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Merlyn III - Day 9 - Thesaurus crisis and other domestic matters



We are running out of ways to say “No Wind, Flat Sea” in the ship’s log. ‘Dead calm’, ‘barely a breath’, ‘hardly rippled’, ‘oily swell’,' ‘painted ship’ etc etc ... all have been used ad nauseam and suggestions would be gratefully received.
 
In all other respects the supplies are holding up well. Some bananas are waiting to become banana cake and avocados to transform into guacamole; the lettuces are on their last legs and the beans and tangerines are finished. But most other fruit and veg – in particular potatoes, cabbages, peppers, fennel, aubergine, oranges, apples, and even some still-green bananas are soldiering on. Our breakfast fruit salad and lunchtime salads are now decided by what has reached what stage, but they continue to be delicious, and we are all becoming experts at bread making.
 
Unfortunately, the water we took on in the Cape Verdes is a distinctly dodgy colour. It is fine for cooking, tea, coffee, and washing (only half a basin each per day, and a shower every fifth), but we are washing up in  salt water and drinking bottled.
 
Don’t know if it is anything to do with the care we took to wash and dry all the fruit and veg, but we have not had occasion yet to find out whether the Canaries cockroaches are friendly (with acknowledgments to Dangermouse – or rather Penfold!)
 
Having headed south  and west in the hope that this is where the trades will settle first, we are now having to consider how much more motor sailing we can afford. Not just because we will need to conserve fuel, but because we want to avoid the ignominy of being relegated to the Motor Sailing division. No danger of that yet, and we console ourselves with the thought that the people who decided to hole up on the Cape Verdes are having a long wait.
 
Iain has found a cunning way of transferring the daily position reports onto a plot. This shows that we are not the furthest south of the fleet, but in the minority. Who knows who will turn out to be right.
 
As I write this, the  wind has risen to all of 10 knots, the genoa is coming out, the engine is off, and we are speeding along at all of 5 knots. The silence is wonderful, long may it last!
 
Jonathan


Dawn at 15 degrees north

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