Hummingbird - Sea Fever

You can be forgiven for thinking that things have descended into a mild state of mayhem on board Hummingbird because in lots of ways they have. Recent reports of underwear (worn overwear) parties, mid Atlantic pub quizes and a bizarre enactment of the board game Cluedo are in fact well founded. As the person responsible for this, I can only protest that we have been chasing the giant silken globe of our spinnaker across the Atlantic in the midday heat, trying to keep it inflated in the unseasonably light airs. Our world has shrunk to a mere sixty feet and a troublesome orb has become our god as we all take it in turns to do its bidding on the helm. A little craziness is a hazard of the job I’m afraid.

So it is in this context that Chris ‘killed’ Michelle with a fender on the foredeck today in Ship’s Cluedo. Subtlety was not his strong point in this endeavour and she was onto him from the start. After he commented to her that he needed to “fend her off” we were all convinced that he was never going to succeed. But perseverance paid off and he caught her unawares with Big Bertha on the foredeck at 5pm yesterday afternoon, emitting a slightly too triumphant shout. There are five of us now out of the game, me included. Tony found the whole prospect of having to be on guard until St Lucia far too stressful, and pleaded “Somebody kill me now”. His wish was granted late last night when Fraser dispatched him with a sextant in the galley.

In other news, we've almost finished our fresh food supplies. We have about 6 days left before we reach St Lucia, and plenty of stores of cans and frozen food to choose from. We're hoping that John will supplement this with a tuna or two from his many hours of diligent fishing. They’re definitely around as they have rather cheekily been jumping right next to the boat. Alas so far all we’ve managed is the sound of a bite and a glimpse of tail flick before something from the deep made off with a hook whilst we scrambled to bring in an empty line.

We had a shake up of the watch system, categorising people by talents. So we have the celestial navigators on one watch (Nicky, Jen, Gina and Chris), the chefs on another watch (Erika, Michelle and Cui) and the, er, not-so-chefs on the other (who shall remain nameless but they know who they are). The not-so-chefs surprised us with a tasty tuna pasta meal last night, and after threatening to produce tuna-mayonnaise cous cous for lunch they came up trumps and confirmed my suspicion that they had merely been hiding a light under a bushel.

Meanwhile the squall lines have been building slowly day by day, or rather night by night as they only seem to turn up in the dark. Some of them have had spectacular lightening displays. Hummingbird being one of the tallest things for miles around makes us keen to avoid them at all costs. We’ve been using the radar for collision avoidance, and so far missed them, but no doubt our time will come when we need to reef down and drop the kite in a hurry.

Chris and Nicky have been getting been getting good sun sights for the past few days. Jennifer and Gina have been studying the night sky, learning to identify the constellations and confirming the suspicion that celestial navigation was something made up to keep rowdy sailors busy on long ocean passages so that they don’t get up to silly antics like Ships Cluedo.

So although our world has shrunk, in lots of ways we are much more connected to it. All of the crew have developed into skilled down wind sailors, eeking out the best from the boat in challenging conditions. They can tell you the true wind speed for the duration of their stint on the helm, notice every change in swell height and wind direction and have spent hours analysing the psyche of a tuna in an attempt to catch one. Many of the crew can plot our position from sun sights to within a few miles, and even tell you where to find the Cygnus constellation, home of the star Deneb. And as for the twin poled gybe (which is a manouevre we make to change the spinnaker from one side to the other, and not a species of migratory bird), it now takes five people to carry out when originally it took ten.

It’s not all underwear/overwear parties, pub quizzes and death by butternut squash on the good ship Hummingbird. In lots of ways that is the 'normal' part of our day: the ocean holds far more surprises and magic than anything we can dream up. The half way party saw a distinct turn in mood on board, as we began to contemplate the end of this affair. A mixture of excitement about completing the journey and looking forward to seeing loved ones, (and perhaps being reunited with a cold beer) is tinged with the realisation that this magic is almost over. You can’t run away to sea forever of course, but maybe a little dose of its madness now and then is what ultimately keeps us sane.

Rachael