12 36.506n 49 47.278w
Day 9, or is it 10?
Tue Nov 28 2023
The long awaited Trades are now with us. The Trades, and in this part of the world are (normally) 15 - 20 knots from the NE, day in, day out. I would say, and have it known that I’m clearly no expert, but this crossing of the Atlantic has been on the light side of normal. Furthermore, we are currently, and have mostly been, enjoying a relatively flat sea. That doesn’t mean that the boat sits bolt upright as it might were we shuffling across to St Mawes from Falmouth, but we are not seeing what I thought might be mid ocean waves. I imagined a mid ocean wave to be about the size of a decent sand dune, but spaced a long way apart. Yet so far the waves have been fairly, well, normal.
The current sail configuration is the twins. One poled out to windward, the other poled out by the boom. The wind angle is 160 - 170, and we sit very comfortably in 20 knots with the sails set this way. It’s not the fastest, but it does make life slightly easier. The boat that is leading this whole fleet, and that includes the ultra fast Utramar 55 cats, is a 46 foot Italian cruiser/racer. He’s where he is (about 80 miles ahead of his nearest rival - a pack of Utramar Cats) for a number of reasons. First and foremost, he’s clearly an excellent sailor, secondly the combination of wind and sea state has allowed him to fly an enormous A sail so that he can reach down the course at great speed. Had we still had our sadly missed spinnaker it’s quite possible it would still be up now as we haven’t experienced wind strengths that would over power us. However, I must remind myself that is not only our first sizeable Ocean crossing, but the first of many we plan to do over the coming months. This crossing is, in fact, less than 10% of all the miles we plan to do. So we shouldn’t over stress the boat, should we? Be fun though wouldn’t it? There is no doubt there is a strong competitive element on this boat and since the kite was laid to rest a few days ago the crew now have to amuse themselves in other ways.
Emm has somehow got hold of Vic’s Kindle and is devouring book after book. This suits her well as there is little she likes doing more than a) lying down, and b) reading. So she’s totally in her element. Furthermore, in order to manage any hint of sea sickness, which so far has been absolutely zero, she’s stood down from booze when we have a sundowner each night and has appeared quite content with Coke. But we all know that Emm is a pocket rocket and there is considerable energy being stored up inside that will need to escape at some point. In our weather routing we have been taught to keep a watchful eye on CAPE levels. I’m not entirely sure what it stands for but it measures potential energy in the atmosphere, high levels of CAPE, would indicate, amongst other things, presence of lightning and thunderstorms for example. In number terms below 1,000 is not too serious, 1,000 to 2,000 you’d be likely to see some activity. And above 2,000 then you need to exercise caution and could consider avoiding those areas. We are all trying to read Emm’s CAPE score for we are certain it is building and by the time we reach Grenada and Emm is handed her first Rum punch by the lovely ARC crew waiting at the dockside, it will be at dangerous levels. 7 day forecasts suggest it may well peak at around 3,000 J/kg and all hell will be let loose in the first 24 hours of our arrival. Warnings have been sent ahead.
Vic, now Kindle-less, has been a rising star in the galley. Ever mindful of our insatiable appetite for food, our need for tea, coffee and the like, she has been one step ahead of us all in pre thinking our next galley raid as the days roll by. In fact thinking, or indeed analysing, is something Vic likes to do a lot. I’ve found events that have occurred have passed me by as if nothing ever happened yet Vic has considerable insight, or so it appears, to the why’s and wherefore’s of such events and is able to draw the most remarkable conclusion to what first appeared to me as, seemingly, very little. This has kept us all amused and allowed us to peer inside Vic’s sleuth like brain as she goes about her day uncovering hidden truths and facts about all manner of things. Furthermore, having spent a very large part of her life almost in the shade of the Hollywood hills she has developed an extremely fertile and colourful memory. Without warning she might launch into the conversation a memory she has, very possibly about me, that unfolds into the most incredible series of events worthy of a true Hollywood blockbuster. It’s quite possible that my own memory fails me and that the years of booze have saturated a part of the brain that would otherwise catalogue and recall such events. But the stories are so fanciful that it seems Impossible they could ever be forgotten. Nonetheless in Vic’s world they are true and it feels kind to agree with her before she once again buries her head in her knitting what appears to be a waste paper bin liner.
The Admiral, Neil, has brought with him a collection of relics from a bygone era that has given him simply hours and hours of entertainment on this trip. He has undertaken to determine our precise whereabouts using nothing more than some form of telescope on a tripod, several large tomes full of mathematical tables and a pencil. At precise times throughout the day he comes hurtling up through the companionway and with timepiece in one hand and telescope in the other he searches across the sky until he is able to locate a particular celestial body. Moments later he’s gone muttering a series of numbers as he passes by before spreading all manner of paperwork across the galley table and beyond. Dutifully he sits, making crosses, drawing lines, assuming his position until finally he is, after several hours, able to confirm it. Joy of joys. He rocks back in his seat having cracked the enigma of the celestial code. But within moments he’s back at it. Hurtling through the cockpit with his equipment in hand the process starts again. A cycle that continues without interruption, the Admiral barely finding time to return to his bunk to recharge his own systems before our solar system lures him back on deck. And it is a proud moment when the Admiral announces the accuracy of the ship’s GPS compared to his own pencil calculations. At times not one nautical mile apart. The great cruising celestial navigator, born in an era before the advent of GPS, Eric Hiscock would no doubt shake him firmly by the hand in light of such an achievement.
Frank, meanwhile, has been laid low with a wretched bronchial infection. Having taken himself to the hospital in Mindelo to undertake a number of tests, X - rays, and examinations the learned doctors have diagnosed some form of bronchitis and sent him on his way with a satchel full to the brim of medicinal remedies. This was a walk in service and completed within one morning. This whole process is in stark contrast to that found in his native homeland California, where the diagnosis of medical ailments is considered a sport. With each test, examination, or mechanical investigation carrying eye wateringly high ticket prices the doctors appear to ensure as many are undertaken as possible, and often without any obvious connection to the original ailment. So, for example, attending a hospital in the US with a chest condition could very easily lead to a thorough examination of one’s ring piece followed by an MRI, and laser treatment to the eyes. At the end of all this the patient is awarded a statement listing the cost of such tests, often running to several hundreds of thousands of dollars, which is subsequently passed on to an insurance company to settle. The poor people in Cabo Verde are not blessed with such financial enterprise, not half as clever or cunning as those smart Californians yet somehow they are able to draw the same conclusions and in Frank’s case send him on his way for an all-in cost of less than 100 euro. Extraordinary. Furthermore, without the extensive testing undertaken by our US friends one might expect to find the streets of Mindelo littered with dead bodies arising from inadequate medical procedures. Yet that is not the case and one might argue that, by and large, the country boasts a fit, healthy and happy population.
Full moon tonight, average speed 7 knots aiming directly at the target, yet the weather models are suggesting we alter course to the south or the north. It seems nuts as we are going very nicely thank you . Let’s see what the updated GRIB’s tell us in the morning. Night night.