Trucial Coast, Day 8 – nothing to report! Brilliant!

Good morning boat fans! I have some really exciting news today: there are NO INCIDENTS TO REPORT from last night!For only the second time since leaving Las Palmas we got through the night without drama, squall, sail change (or loss!) or anything that necessitated anything other than the normal watch pattern. So not very interesting for you lot but fantastic for us.

Normal service has been resumed now however and we’re in a Force 6 coming from the south east: no-one told us to expect that! Seas are large and confused as well, so it’s all fun and games. I think it’s because I suggested yesterday that we were in the Trades – clearly this put the mockers on the whole operation, so I shall never refer to those winds (that we are clearly not experiencing today) by that name again. But if I refer in glowing terms to a wonderful easterly breeze, then we’ll all know what I’m talking about!

It was a good day yesterday – the boat clearly likes the goosewinged twin headsail set-up and we made loads of ground – it was our best 24 hours to date, covering 163 nautical miles at an average speed of 6.8 knots. Happily this means that we have now travelled over 1000 nautical miles (as of 5.30 a.m. today) and our DTF is 1772 nautical miles as of now.

As promised, here’s an insight into the boat routine – seen purely through my eyes. The opinions here are of the author only and in no way reflect those of the boat owners. Although I’m sure they’ll let you know if they think I’m too off the mark…

3 a.m. My day begins – Rob wakes me for my night watch. I struggle, gummy eyed into my life jacket and get up on deck. We wear life jackets at all times when on deck. The jackets come with a life strap that has to be clipped on to lines running the length of the deck – we always clip on at night, in rough weather, if we’re the only ones on deck, and whenever we head out of the cockpit up to the foredeck. I struggle a bit with the night watch – four hours on your own in the dark can be taxing, especially if the moon is behind clouds most of the time! Much of this log is mentally composed on that night watch, which probably helps explain things….

7 a.m. I come off watch, replaced by Ann, and head back to bed for a couple of hours. 10 a.m. I’m back on watch – Ann and I spilt the day between us watch-wise as Rob is busy for a good 4 hours of the day with “office work” – getting weather forecasts, position reporting, participating in the radio net roll call etc. We normally do sail amendments at about this time of the day, which often means I’m stood on the foredeck hauling things up, down, and round the bend (it’s mainly the skipper I haul round the bend I think – if the parasailor wasn’t actually being stowed in its bag up on the foredeck I’m sure he’d like it to be my cabin…). I’m on watch until Ann has had time to prepare lunch and wash up afterwards – about 1.30 p.m. typically. At some point during this watch Rob takes over for 10-15 mins while I write this log.

1.30 p.m. Off watch and a couple of hours to myself – if it’s a red letter day I may take a shower (we have to make our own fresh water from sea water but we’re still being cautious with water usage in case the water maker goes on the blink, so we probably shower every 2nd or 3rd day. Nice!). I’ll also read for a bit. We get the DTF information for all of our class in the rally and Rob and I sit and go through this to see how we’re doing. Once you apply TCF (time correction factor – handicap basically) we reckon we’re about 11 out of 20 currently, although the DTFs come in 24hrs after the event so our good run yesterday might have shifted us up the rankings.

4 p.m. Back on watch. Normally my favourite time of the day. Sails are set and trimmed for the conditions, the worst of the heat is out of the sun and we can potter, working on the “critical non-essentials”. Yesterday that meant rooting around the boat to find a shackle to replace the one that we lost when the parasailor guy chafed through. Ann makes supper for about 6 p.m. and special note must be made of her efforts here. She prepares a decent hot meal every evening, and below decks is never stable at the best of times. How she produces a decent meal when her oven alternates between being wall-mounted and floor-mounted from one wave to the next, I don’t know, but it’s impressive stuff!

7 p.m. I come off watch and hit the sack.

So that’s my typical day. I’ll sign off now, I can’t think of a teaser for tomorrow’s log right now, but I know that this winning combination of nautical gibberish and rubbish jokes will keep you coming back…