We departed from St Lucia on 22nd January 2008.
And naturally we celebrated this auspicious anniversary last night with a
party. Now in case any of you don't know how to organise one when at sea,
it's really very easy. All you do is to tell your friends about it, and
you all celebrate at the same time on your own yachts (separated by up to 800
miles of sea) and tell each other about it on the radio. We could hear the
corks popping and the increasingly raucous singing whilst we lifted our tin
mugs towards each other. For once, the water was merely brackish, and
we passed a stale loaf between us, tearing off chunks in our hunger. The
skipper made sure we did not have more than a half cup each, and then
retired to his cabin and opened a bottle of champagne, which he drank his way
through to his increasing merriment. We pumped the bilges, catching and
killing (for supper) a couple of rats as we did so, and contemplated
how best to cook the next barrel of salted beef, with us since we left England
some eighteen months ago, given that we were going to have to make it last for
the next fortnight. As usual on these nights, the Skipper sent out for a
pizza, which he ate with relish as he quaffed a bottle of decent Riocca that he
had been keeping especially for such an occasion. (Actually, some of this
is unconvincing. Re-draft, please - Ed).
Apart from this, and we really did celebrate the Anniversary over the radio
with our fellow Rallyists. We had some quite drinkable red wine and a
delicious Jenni-cooked meal, the last of the St Helena fresh meat and vegetables,
some traditional sausages and gravy with mashed spuds and
vegetables.
It was one of the most frustrating day's sailing we have had, with variable
and very light winds interspersed by little, dampish squalls. Unlike most
such squalls, these brought very little wind with them, and what there was was
transient. The only consolation was that we would have been very hard
pressed indeed to fly the spinnaker - it would have spent most of the day
slopping around, and no doubt would have wrapped itself around the forestay many
times. And in the early part of the night, just as the Skipper was
dropping off to sleep, there was a loud bang, and the mainsail swung out
uncontrolled to rest against the port shrouds. The Mainsheet shackle had
parted. No doubt this was the result of neglect; the shackle would have
come loose as a result of the continual banging of the mainsail as it slopped
around in the higgledy piggledy seas. Mandy bought Cleone quickly
under control, the half-awake Skipper dropped the mainsail and Graham dug
out a replacement shackle from the box above his bunk. But here's
another bit of luck. If that had happened during a squall, or even normal
sailing, the results could have been very serious, with a broken shroud or an
injury to one of the crew or all sorts of other things not worth even thinking
about. Bruce is promising slightly better sailing conditions for today,
and unusually, more wind for those at the back rather than those at the front of
the fleet. These have yet to materialise fully, but we sit around or sleep
in hope.
Finally, to report that yesterday was, for us, twenty five hours long, and
not the usual twenty four. Most mysterious, but the Skipper claims to
understand the reasons. For the rest of us, it just meant an extra hour's
watch, for Jenni and Shayne, and an extra hour's kip for Mandy and Graham, and,
for the Skipper, an extra hour to wait for supper.
Meanwhile, all is well with us, and very best wishes to you all.
James, Graham, Jenni, Shayne and Mandy
Yacht Cleone
15o26'S 019o11'W