A squally, squally night

We had thought it odd that we hadn't experienced more wet weather to date. Last night made up for it. The squalls started massing around us in mid-afternoon and continued into the early morning. Follyfin was pleased to have her first proper wash down. Crew members were glad of full wet weather gear. But we came through it OK although our course was somewhat erratic. See, as the squall passes the boat, the wind usually increases and veers (that means changes in a clockwise direction). The watch-keeper has to be very alert to these sudden changes in order to keep the sail set in the correct direction to the wind. At present, and for the last few days, we have been sailing gull-winged with the fore and main sails set on opposite sides of the boat, and the wind coming directly from behind, over the stern. You can see that if the wind direction suddenly changes, that could play havoc with the canvas. Mind you, Jane the Vane (that's what we christened the self-steering gear) seems to handle most changes pretty well.

Early yesterday we encountered another challenge to our progress: the dreaded sargasso weed. A few small pieces were spotted floating past us in recent days. But yesterday morning we passed through a veritable carpet of the stuff. Think global warming is responsible for this development. Anyway, the weed of course bungs up the hydro-generator (essentially a small propeller towed behind the boat and connected to the batteries which are charged in this way). Hence our main source of power became progressively more useless as the day wore on. The solar panel pumps some charge in but the day was overcast … Solution? The Bosun with the help of Second Mate managed to convert the hydro-generator into a wind generator by upending it and attaching the windmill to the top. Sorted!

In other news, there's no news re baby’s arrival. And we are now sub-400 miles to go. Hoping to arrive on Monday … all other things being equal. Three days ago a 948 ft tanker aptly named British Ruby - for this after all is The Ruby Cruise - passed within 4 miles of Follyfin on its way to Egypt. First Mate attempted to engage their watch keeper in conversation over the VHF radio. He was polite but clearly somewhat phased by this random call from strange woman telling him about our Ruby wedding anniversary etc. Well, I hadn't spoken to anyone, Follyfin crew excepted, for two and a half weeks had I?

Last night we also spotted on AIS another sailing boat, named Tamala and not one of our fleet, 3-4 miles off our starboard bow. We were both dodging squalls at the time which may explain why they did not respond at all to my VHF call. Just dying to have a chat with someone aren't I! Have seen their sail this morning as we run abreast. Quite comforting to know other human souls are nearby in this vast ocean, even if they aren't listening to their radio.

Third and final meal of our dorado catch was had last night. So the lines are out again, hoping for a tuna. So far this morning only the dratted sargasso weed has been hooked, but we will keep on trying.

The Catch

Post from guest blogger, Second Mate

'If life gives you lemons, then make lemonade'...one more day without a fish and we probably would have done, we've got so many of the darn things. They were bought with such gay abandon they're now the only fruit left on board. Apples, oranges and bananas were all cast aside. The tsunami of fresh fish, we thought, will need a lot of lemon. Even when we did catch a fish in the first week the lemons were strictly rationed, so concerned was the Quartermaster that we wouldn't have enough for the riches to come. But the only riches that followed came out of a can.

Putting the lines out at 6am had become a depressing routine - a daily reminder of our failures rather than an act of the hopeful. Yet still we persisted, like suckers for punishment and this morning was no different. We'd even stopped the "imagine if we caught..." game such was our resignation. But just as the morning moan had ended, complaining of the lack of edible fruit, I glimpsed a sudden jolt on the line. We've been here before I thought. Was it weed? Or plastic netting? One glance up confirmed it wasn't. A furrow of water was being churned up in our wake. It was definitely a fish. And it was definitely big.

As I reached for the line, I had visions of Hemingway's Old Man and the Sea - a colossal tug-of-war that would end without victor or vanquished. Thankfully the only visions the Cabin Boy had were of lunch, dashing down to grab the fish gaff at a speed I've witnessed only once before. It was at the farewell party on the eve of our departure. Clearly fearing a fortnight of just pasta and pulses, Jim flitted so fast between the tables of tapas the kitchen could barely keep up. Calamari in one hand, croquette in the other, it was a sight to behold.

And so it proved this morning. As I reeled the beast in, and Deckhand whispered his usual barbs of encouragement, Cabin-Boy-turned-hunter-gatherer delivered the killer blow. A dorado, 6-8kg, our beautiful bounty from beneath.

Never one normally to lunch before 3pm, Cabin Boy didn't stop there, serving up a round of pan-seared steaks with galley-baked bread barely 3 hours after bringing it in.

As Napoleon once said, an army marches on its stomach. So it seems with Follyfin, and after the wine we had to celebrate our catch, half the crew is now sleeping on it too.

Rockin’ ‘n Rollin’

At last, the Trades! For the past 48 hours or so, we have had winds of around 20 kn (high force 5), sometimes gusting up to 27/28 kn (force 6/7). So Follyfin has been creaming along at 6/7/8 kn and her average speed has shot up from around 4.5 to 6.5 kn. Brilliant! The flip side to this very positive development is that staying upright whilst moving about the boat is increasingly difficult, to say nothing of sleeping. The ocean swell is coming at us from two directions (NW and SE. Mostly the seas are chasing up behind us, and some are as high as 5 metres. Often it feels and looks like we are surfing down the waves. Though Follyfin is coping admirably with the situation, the crew is not. Well, we are, but the air occasionally turns a delicate shade of blue. No doubt the crew will arrive battered and bruised and sleep deprived but (hopefully) triumphant.

Early this morning, day 16/17, our distance-to-go dipped under 1000 miles, cause for optimism only marred by sleep deprivation. So to keep morale high, chocolate brownies are baking in the oven as I type. If the fish refuse to bite, the least we can do is savour a sweet treat. If you are watching positions of the fleet on the Atlantic Odyssey website, you will see that Follyfin’s position has hardly changed since yesterday. Don't worry! First Mate slightly overslept, or should I say did not emerge from semi-conscious state, until just after the time positions are collected for the day. Tomorrow should update Follyfin to her current position.

It has not escaped the crew that day 17, 25 January, is also Robbie Burns’ birthday. Regret no haggis aboard but that will not prevent the crew toasting the immortal memory with a wee dram (or two?). So a double celebration this evening: Burns’ birthday and fewer than 1000 miles to our destination.

Otherwise all is well on board the good ship Follyfin. At this point, dear reader, you are warned that daughter Laurel (aka Our Girl on the Ground) is now 2 days overdue for the birth of her first baby. When that happens there will be a short intermission on the blog. However, you can keep up to date with developments via Twitter by googling @Follyfin or @Ivorbennett (who incidentally has been doing a tweet of the day for the entire voyage, whereas I have been less conscientious and concentrating on the blog. I will start tweeting once baby appears though). All very exciting!

Dawn on day 14, January 23rd 2016

  

No wind, little sleep, blue ocean in every direction as far as the eye can see, no vessel in sight, no fish caught and fresh produce running out fast - only 3 cabbages, 3 carrots, 2 apples, several potatoes and onions, plenty of garlic and oh yes, 15 lemons in anticipation of all those fish we were/are going to catch. The stuff of blues indeed, with only visits from dolphin pods to lift the spirits. Truth to tell, the mood amongst the crew yesterday was somewhat less than ebullient. After all, by 2 weeks in we had expected to be two-thirds of the way across but instead the trade winds have been fickle and we are still at least a couple of days behind our expected position by this time. 'Blame it on El Ninjo' we cry. Wind and weather not conforming to established predictions seems to have become the norm for our sailing adventures over the past couple of years.

The previous evening (Thursday 21st) however, the mood was lighter as we toasted grandson Noah's second birthday with a glass of fizz brought aboard specially for the occasion. The crew was also salivating at the thought of Cabin Boy's latest creation emerging from the oven just in time to accompany pressure-cooked ratatouille. This was a double loaf, half of which incorporated sun-dried tomatoes and consumed in one sitting. Indeed it was a triumph and the other loaf was still available for lunch the following day. Small pleasures become great in our situation.



But as yesterday wore on, the wind grew lighter and lighter and eventually the engine was switched on in an effort to maintain a 4 knot average speed. So just the time to indulge in some well-honed off-watch activities. These include reading, napping, repair and maintenance (skipper), bread baking (cabin boy), filming (media manager), occasional cooking and cleaning (mainly first mate, but cooking duties also admirably fulfilled by deckhand #1 and second mate), playing chequers, cards, and of course dreaming - mainly of unlimited water supply and steak.

The skipper deemed that a morale booster was required last evening. A bottle of red wine magically appeared to go with our spicy Dahl and rice dinner. It did the trick and conversation flowed once more as we sat on deck under the bright moonlight. We motored for 12 hours overnight but at least we are sailing again this morning. And on the positive side, the swell was much reduced allowing all to have a better quality of sleep even if in short snatches.

As I draw this post to a close, the first sightings have been made of the notorious Sargasso weed floating past. Some caught on both fishing lines so I guess any hope of fresh fish for supper is dashed. Now to think what else to cook for supper this evening - will it be tuna or sardine of the tinned variety? Pasta or rice or potato? Tinned peaches or pineapple? Happy days, a myriad of options. And for lunch….?

View from mid-Atlantic

Days tend to be dominated by what is on the menu and who is chef and sous chef for the occasion. Anticipation is heightened if Cabin Boy has baked one of his excellent loaves of bread the night before. [Think he said he would try focaccia type loaf today baked with sun-dried tomatoes... can't wait.] As dawn comes up the sails are shaken out from their overnight safely reduced size and the course is adjusted as necessary and set. Before sunset, the reverse procedure takes place, the sails being reefed down in case of overnight squalls.

This morning a flying fish was found on deck, and we have seen shoals of them 'flying' past the boat. Quite a sight. The one 'caught' this morning is now bait on the end of the line hoping to attract a tuna or some such. On evening of day 11, just as a meal of pasta and tinned tuna was about to be prepped, a large, approx 4 lb., very thick skinned fish came on the line. So into the oven it went and even white wine was produced to celebrate, so happy were we to have staved off the tinned fish for one more day. Delicious!

 

Now starting day 13 and with only a couple of hundred miles to go until halfway point, I think a few photos of the crew in action might be in order. Everyone is tired (some would say verging on exhaustion) but still relishing the challenge.

Skipper and Cabin Boy enjoying the ride

 

Media Manager at work

 

 

Deckhand #1 winching it up

 

 

Fixing pole to jib at sunset

 

 

 

 

A fish!

Just as the evening meal was being prepped - pressure-cooked ratatouille using up a medley of vegetables before they went off - the cry went up: "a fish, a fish, we caught a fish!" Yes it was true, there was indeed a fish on the hook. Within 15 minutes of being decked, he was in the oven and made a delicious accompaniment to the main dish. So now we know we can catch fish and hope for lots more.

 

Yesterday, day 8, was largely taken up with the skipper, the bosun and the engineer all trying to sort out the mysterious power generation problem. Fortunately, the bosun managed to identify the problem, whilst the skipper relayed updates to the anxious crew and then the engineer solved it. Wonderful to have all this expertise aboard.

Last night Operation Caged Bird (BE) took place. This was an effort to get all those crew members involved in the solution of the power problem (see above) to get some rest as they did not stop all day. Not an unqualified success as they all felt they had to oversee a midnight reefing of sails after a sudden increase in wind strength.

Now into Day 9 and we have just heard that 7 boats in the fleet have gone into Cape Verde for refuelling or repair. Amongst the rest, Follyfin seems to be doing quite well with fewer than 2000 miles to go. But it's not a race!

One week, 800 miles

At last we seem to have caught the Trade Winds. The sun is shining, the sea is blue and we are sailing! Deck hand #1 and Second Mate even managed to have showers yesterday - good thing too some would say... They used the former's ingenuous camping shower, hung through the overhead hatch in the stern heads. Surprising how effective it is with only 1.5 litres of water. That is the daily personal allowance of water per crew member by the way.

Since leaving Tenerife we have motored for a total of 60 hours sometimes with sail helping, sometimes without. But now we have not motored for a full 24 hours so the signs are good. Only slight dark 'cloud' on the horizon is that the hydro generator has ceased to work. So the bosun is on the case. We still have the solar panel which should sustain the batteries during the day. In worst case the engine will have to go on for an hour to charge them up again. Everything we don't actually need has been switched off. Heaven forbid that the fridge has to go too!

Speaking of food, all fresh meat has now been consumed. Still hoping to catch fish but no bites yet.