“Come here often?” were the first words exchanged with
the crew of the 20 metre NZ yacht ‘Haereroa’ which drew alongside us during our
evening pre-prandial tonight. We had seen them astern for a couple of hours, and
they were doing a good knot and a half better than us (more of which later), so
they closed the gap and hailed us as we sat snacking and imbibing.
They are also ARC participants, and we exchanged
pleasantries (and promises of a beer in Rodney Bay), before they swept past us
and disappeared into the distance. It left us contemplating the bizarre nature
of the passage – hardly anyone within sight for 3 weeks, and then a boat onto
which our pistachio shells landed!
Night Watch Incidents
We had a more complicated and absorbing night watch
than usual, despite the fact we were motoring (more later!). We heard a bit of
VHF chatter around 0300, of which we could only hear one end of the
conversation, including a waypoint to reach. It coincided with Ali spotting a
bright white flash in the distance, and coming on watch, I saw another and then
what appeared to be an orange flash. We thought it could have been distress
flares some distance off, but there had been no distress call on the radio. We
altered course towards the activity, and Martin emerged from his bunk wondering
what was going on.
We put out an All Ships call to see if anyone else had
noticed the lights, but nobody replied (though there were at least 2 other
yachts within 5 miles). Eyes fixed to the horizon in the general direction of
the lights, we motored about 10 miles without seeing anything untoward. There
were some squall clouds around, and it may have been lightning, but we could not
afford to risk the possibility that someone was in trouble….
Someone else was, we found out later, though it was
unconnected with our own alert. The VHF call we had picked up related to a yacht
whose skipper had died of a suspected heart attack earlier in the evening. The
yacht we could hear was arranging to rendezvous with them to transfer diesel for
a quick motor passage to St Lucia. Beyond the trauma and grief that the crew and
the relatives at home would be suffering due to the bereavement, dealing with
another 3 or 4 day passage to get to Rodney Bay does not bear thinking
about.
Picture
Post
I am told that we have failed to get some of our
photos onto the site, as a result of operator error (common enough). We think we
know what went wrong, and will try to do better...
Weather and Progress
Not much is all we can record here! The trough that is
stalking us has stolen our wind. We knew we would have to motor last night, but
the forecast was for a modest improvement today that would allow us to
sail. No such luck, as we have not
seen more than knots of wind from any direction (and we have seen them all!)
since dawn. Worse, the prospects tomorrow are no better, and Sunday is iffy as
well.
Today was therefore a day for desperate diesel
deductions… do we have enough to motor all the way (probably, but do the math
again!). How do we improve our chances? (transfer it all into one tank). Is that
enough? (No, we won’t do any more laundry, or anything else that takes energy
from the battery bank and means charging). Can we conserve fuel? (yes, motor
more slowly – and therefore the NZ yacht passed us at a clip!)…. And then there
is praying (for more wind, sooner and from the right direction).
It is really a pity, since we had managed to sail
almost all the way with the exception of the trawl back to Las Palmas on Day 1,
and then an overnight when we were in the wind shadow of Tenerife. It does make
you feel for the old square riggers, for whom there was no option but to sit and
roll in the heat….
250 miles left to run, but not celebrating yet, just
counting them down….
Watergaw