The Atlantic is big, very big. Our journey from Las
Palmas to Rodney Bay will take us from 30 degrees west of the Greenwich Meridian
to 60 degrees west. For those who need more explanation, the meridian is the
invisible line running through London’s maritime observatory at Greenwich, which
marks the measuring point for degrees of longitude around the earth to the west
and to the east. We measure our distances at sea in nautical miles, each exactly
one minute of latitude, therefore different to the statue miles we use on land
in the UK and elsewhere. Our passage to the Caribbean on the great circle route,
the shortest distance between two points on the globe, is just under 2,800
nautical miles. We are now right in the middle of our passage, equidistant
between start and finish ports. In layman’s terms, slap bang in the middle of
nowhere!
So how can we get a scale to this big ocean we are
slowly crossing? Well, in conversation at sea, we’ve come up with the Fastnet
Scale – to quote Will “the Atlantic is like doing five Fastnets back to back,
without all the drinking in Plymouth of course!”. The “fastnet” is not a
recognised ISO measure of distance, well not yet at least, but a useful guide
especially for those who have sailed to the famous rock and back, like our
crewman Will Yonge. Will is a very experienced sailor, former offshore racer and
three-time Fastnet veteran, but also an Atlantic virgin; whilst he has many sea
miles under this nautical belt, his longest passage to date has been the famous
Fastnet Race from Cowes to the southwest corner of Ireland and on to Plymouth; a
distance of 605 nautical miles. So, now, having just passed the midpoint of our
journey, we have just over two and a half “fastnets” remaining.
Helen cooked up a very special dinner to mark the
midpoint of our passage; duck breast (sorry Lu!!) in orange sauce, with a fresh
boat-made cheesecake to follow. We toasted our success to date with “Canarian
Champagne” – sparking water from the volcanic source at Firgas on Gran Canaria.
We doubt any crew in the ARC ate better last night.
The wind Gods have been kinder to us overnight; more
pressure has allowed us to improve our VMG – our speed in the direction towards
Saint Lucia. Plus with our big blue spinnaker, we are now romping along at a
respectable 7 to 8 knots down course.
Breakfast on deck this morning included a celebration of
the new month with the first window of our Muppets advent calendar to open –
thanks to the ARC Yellowshirts of our bon voyage gift. The 0800 watch change was
set to include a spinnaker drop to check for chafe; instead we had a squall
bearing down on us, so it was up and into foulies in preparation. Luckily, the
squall passed us by, leading to the quote of the day from Will – “I am all
togged up with no squall to go!”.
Then as life returned to a less hectic pace, there was a
cry of “fish!!!” from Helen. Skipper Chris has put out our lures at first light,
and now we had a result; not one but two fabulous dorado. They were easy to land
and were swiftly dispatched with a liberal application of gin to their gills –
what a way to go! However, the wind Gods once again got in on our moment of
excitement and hit us with a rain squall. Needless to say we had a few frantic
minutes with a fully powered up boat, two slippery fish in the cockpit and
pouring rain!
Now, calm has returned to Tashy and we are sailing along
in tropical sunshine. In the galley Chris and Helen did a marvellous job between
them of first gutting, then filleting the fish. We now have fresh fish for our
supper, ceviche for lunch and a couple more dinners in the freezer. Fishing
lines now put away. On Tashy we hunt for food, not for sport.
This is the crew of Taistealai signing off for another
day.
Chris, Helen, Will and Jem (and the penguin)
01/12/2015 at 19 11N 040 10W with 1230nm to
run.