Asante - The end of the never ending poem
Well that’s it done, the line is crossed.Asante has us home.It’s the second time we‘ve joined the ARC.How boring had we flown. We’ll say farewell to our crew of four.To James and Tom and Nick.And to Kirsten with her balls of wool, and her needles going click. But Ian and I are not finished yet. Our adventure has just begun.For January takes us round the world.For lots more endless fun.Almost two more years of yellow shirts, to help us on our way.The organisers of World ARC at hand both night and day.. read more...
Asante - Day 18 of the never ending poem
Tom and I did a watch last night.The weather was so horrendous.The radar screen was not good news, cos the squalls they were tremendous.The ARC foretold of these massive devils, that make our life not good.Of seas that pick a boat up.Just like a piece of wood.The roar was loud, we held on tight. But Asante held her course.The rain lashed into the cockpit, with an almighty force. We had to shout to hear each other. Ian came up to see. Not happy that his sleep was cut, by this calamity.The others too they did appear.To hear what the weather had.But by morning time the squalls had gone.Life was once again not bad.Food is low but that’s all fine.One more day to last.And with these winds still strong and sure, we’ll definitely get there fast.. read more...
Asante - Day 16 of the never ending poem
Exhaustion is taking over.Sleep is had by few.Some have been feeling nauseous so their watches they cannot do.The swell is getting greater.Strong winds are on the way.Hopefully only two more nights.Then I’ll sleep both night and day.I’ve had to play the medic, and not just for one time.As people tire they trip and fall.The result they don’t look fine.One person has a black eye, another cut his leg.Everyone’s got bruises.We just want in they beg. December is now with us.So we have on board today.A little advent calendar.And with it a game we play.Each night the crew is questioned, about one part of the boat.The first to get the answer, gets the chocolate down his throat.Last nights question which I gave, was how many winches / that’s a feat.Not one person got it right.So the skipper had. read more...
Asante - Day 15 of the never ending poem
Day 15 sees us all recover, from the longest night so far.The weather that had protected us, had given us all a shower.For through the night, the squalls had come.And lightening with them too.The wind howled through the rigging.And the skies had flashed bright blue. Now when I say a shower.I don’t mean a drop or two of rain.But a bucket load of water, thrown time and time again.Last time we did the crossing, back in 2021, the squalls they were relentless.So I knew they were no fun.Our guests had only heard of squalls.Never felt them out in force.And pretty soon the novelty had run and run its course.700 miles is all that’s left.We continue counting down.I’m dreaming of rum cocktails, at my favourite bar in town.. read more...
Asante - Day 14 of the never ending poem
Day 14, and we’re close, to a Carribean Isle.Though a distance of 800, can take us quite a while.But we have the wind, the sails are full.The fishing lines are out.When down below while baking, I heard the ‘fish on’ shout.It was a whopper, no small thing.Two of the lines were tangled.And as the boys reeled in the catch, with a marlin they now wrangled.Now many boats would take on board, this marvel of the sea.But we all think, what is the point, in slaughtering such beauty.We don’t need the meat to eat.Our cameras tell the story.No need to hold it way up high, just for a moments glory.So as we reel the big fish in, we say a fond farewell.We cut the line and off she goes, with a splash of her big tail.So look below and you will see, the one we let away.We’ll all sleep well and feel. read more...