Not much to report on the sailing front; the sea has been
glassy calm all day with no wind. We trundle on at 8 knots towards
our decision point off the Cape Verde Islands, no one else in sight. A pic of
the captain at work taking the noon sight has been posted. Please
note the highly technical instrument in his assistant David’s left hand. So on
to domestic matters.
Every five days one of us is not on sailing watch - instead we are on
‘Mother’ watch and standby. This does not mean a day of rest.
Preparing breakfast, lunch, and tea; tidying and cleaning the boat; and doing
any other chores means that mother is usually run off her feet – although
with the water rationing, there is no clothes washing and washing up is a
communal effort in sea water. Beards are beginning to establish
themselves.
The culinary standards are being maintained: Christopher cooked a
deliciously-spiced Moroccan lamb with cous-cous on Tuesday; and Iain served up a
recherche beetroot and celeriac gratin with sausages last night – eaten to the
strains of Brahms’ German Requiem, which seemed strangely appropriate to the
moonlit windless ocean. .
Our first flying fish has invited himself on board. He was turned into
bait, but from the imprecations on the stern just now I gather that yet another
“fish at least as big as this” has just broken off yet more line. Sashimi
and ceviche still seem a distant dream.
Despite the frustrations morale remains high!
Jonathan