The final departure scene
The causes of frenetic excitment build up before a big event are always wonderous and so in the case of a 'rally' of this magnitude. Vast numbers of boaties all doing their stuff to produce their best, from the ill prepared vessel to the best prepared boat that needs constantly checking so that no glaring error is missed. During this we have seen examples of every phase - guys dashing about clattering their way down their pontoons with armfuls of the lastest gear from Raymarine , who, I guess spent hours trying out how the 'boody thing' works! Then when time is up and all the boats around us are cleaned down, clothes still drying 'your man' next door climbs the mast to clean the upper most parts and in so doing covers the surrounding fraternity with his filth, thats when camaraderie counts and was vaguely tested.
The World Cruising Organisation is really good at getting these dos together. They field specialists to tell us about every aspect of our impending adventure - diet, first aide, radio, (how I wish I had paid more attention) navigation, safety at sea, helicopter rescue - you name it they did it. The venue couldn't be better positioned geographically, to start a jolly over some of the most consistent weather at this time of year with just the odd surprise thrown in. A real confidence builder for who intend to go on around the world, some for five or six years.
The final days' razzamatazz was something to behold, oompa bands strutting about playing different tunes while marching past each other! The entrance to the marina, now a farewell stand blasted out tunes of every nationalistic origin imaginable while a 'voice over' dignitary did his bit 'goood bi our german friends, come to Canarias again. Goood bi our english friends, come quickly back, and now our scandinavian friends goood bi to you happy journey etc etc'. Outside the marina Gav takes over:
The night before, Bob had briefed us on our planned start to the rally. We would head out to sea, well clear of everyone else, and return aiming to cross the line 5 minutes after the start gun once the likely chaos at the front had subsided. The first sign that there may be a change to this plan was as we sailed along the start line to determine the favoured end. Not a vital manoeuvre if you are planning a leisurely start! Clearly our competitive instincts were not going to be curbed just by the use of the word "Rally"! We picked our way through the other competitors, sorry, participants, past the windward end of the line, which was marked by a Spanish naval vessel, and unrolled the genoa. 8 minutes to go.
Our turn back towards the line was well timed and left us next to two large yachts with all three of us bearing down on the line. It would be close but was looking good with under a minute to go when an aluminium sloop decided to tack (or rather stop) in front of our two neighbours forcing the one nearest us to squeeze up on us. There was still room until a trimaran which was not even competing in the ARC decided to park on the line! Somehow though we managed to squeeze past it without any damage to either of us or any of us. Even then we still had to pick past a flotilla of local boats out to watch the spectacle and who were remarkably reluctant to move out of the way as we all beared down on them. Our wild gesticulations and polite requests for them to move back seemed to be interpreted as friendly waves!
A couple of minutes later and all the chaos seemed a distant memory to all except Nick who was still grinning despite being a little shocked by his first racing start. While the excitement of being the windward boat wore off gently subsided, its effects could still be felt into the evening when choosing where to tack onto the lay line and whether to hoist the spinnaker on the following day. In the end the cruising mentality bore through and a healthy error margin was decided upon for the tack and snooze time opposed to all on deck flying of the spinnaker. Even so, fair winds and clear skies resulted in one of the most special nights sailing I have done. In shorts and t-shirt at 2 in the morning surrounded by mast lights on all the other boats out here, phosphorescent off our bow wave, perfect.
The 24th and the 25th have started to settle us into sea routine, the wind died on us over night and we motored for a few hours. In the ocean going mode we need to accept not every day will be a record breaker. The morning sun was perfect for tanning but Gavin and I are a bit annoyed with the skipper?s decision to change tack and thus the sails cover our far from bronzed bodies. Still I can?t complain too much to the skipper as I am in his bad books. Last nights veg supper water, half salt water half clear, was boiled in the kettle. Apparently when Bob went to make a cup of lemon and ginger tea at 4 in the morning some of the gentle armours were tempered by the water used.
As for now, Nick has the fishing line out, Gavin?s taken the wheel and I will read a little before making the Gin and Tonic, life must go on. With another great supper of Pennies defrosting and Bob selecting the wine, these slow miles south should not trouble moral too much. We hope to continue dropping south onto about 20 degrees North, 24 West from which the trade winds will carry us across the Atlantic. That?s the plan, we will keep all informed.