Today was significant for two reasons.

First; it’s the last day of work for my old boss. This is such a big deal that news of the event made it all the way out here to the mid-Atlantic. Back when I had a job Dale got me on my way and was there for all the key moments. Count me among the many who would say they worked for him as much as they did the company. Congratulations Dale and good luck… dink!

Second; this is officially our longest passage ever. We’ve been at sea for 22 days now. Our latest estimate has us arriving Sunday night or early Monday morning, still 3 days away.

We’ve had some uncomfortable swell but more often than not have been frustrated only by the impotent wind. There’s been little traffic, more stars than night most nights, and even the squalls we’ve encountered have provided a nice boost and fresh water rinse.

It was cold for the first week as we dropped in latitude, but that quickly changed. Now a t-shirt keeps us warm enough on night watch. Based on all previous experience we expected to be out here between 18 and 20 days, but we’re going to be 25% longer than the outside estimate. The Galapagos to Marquesas passage was longer (in mileage) and we completed that in 20 days, but a quick glance at the log book shows plenty of 160 mile days a few 170 mile days and even a 180 mile day (double reefed!).
That’s a far cry from this Trans-Atlantic at 110 to 120 miles a days and our best a lousy 133!

The passage has been an overwhelming cakewalk, laughable in simplicity with only a few logistical challenges brought on by its longevity (water, LPG, expired passport). Should we care? Apart from being confined to our cell for an additional 5 days does it really matter? We reluctantly say no, it does not. In fact ‘low mileage high comfort’ is easier on the boat and crew, arguments in its favour are easy to come by.

We give this slow but steady passage a begrudging two thumbs up and only wonder why our thumbs aren’t more enthusiastic.

Have you ever had the opportunity to watch a complete transition of night to day? I don’t mean just watching a sunrise either I’m talking from the weigh in, live footage of fanatics outside the stadium, anthems, main event, speeches, trophies and post –game show; the whole package. If you haven’t then it’s something to try. Stare up at the shimmering white stars, all the way through a cold pre-dawn grey until the sun redefines everything; the view, the temperature, the weather, your thoughts and mood.

We know when it’s time to set the clocks back based on the sunrise, but before we do it’s still the dead of night at 6AM. When Jaime gets me up on one of these days it’s the perfect opportunity to sit through the whole transition. It’s not life changing or anything like that (‘cold and boring’ could fairly describe the experience as well) but there is some magic in it. If you decide to try it here are some considerations.

Pack a thermos containing your favourite hot caffeinated boozy beverage, and plenty of layers and a blanket. You will be surprised at how cold you get just sitting there.
I prefer no music so that your mind and mood can drift around uninfluenced by a playlist, but we have a built in nautical soundtrack and no distractions for a couple thousand miles. If you are dealing with traffic or barking dogs then an iPod might be the perfect accessory.

Most importantly you need a comfortable place to sit with an unobstructed view of the horizon. Get as far away from ambient light pollution as you can. I hate to say it but probably should; make sure you’re facing east. If I need to tell you why then you are probably an ARC participant and need to be concentrating on chewing your food slowly and not reading this.

We’ve been going through these clumps and fields of sea grass for the past week. It’s a bit weird really. I would pull the line in, clear the weeds off the lures, throw it back out and watch it catch another clump 30 seconds later. I weighted the lures and still caught grass. For 4 or 5 days straight every single time I checked the line we would be doing nothing but towing some bloody clump of sea salad back to Barbados. It got to the point that I started to wonder if this could have something to do with our lousy mileage. I finally got fed up, pulled in our lines and conceded defeat. Chalk one up for the predator fish.

Flying fish are another story though. We continue to kill them in prodigious volume every night.

With a following wind it’s best to pee off the bow.

Every morning on my way up there I gather up the dead and fling them back into the sea. I scan the horizon while peeing off the bow then complete a little inventory of sails, lines and rigging while I’m up there. I take the leeward side on the way back and clear the dead off that side of the deck. It’s not always flying fish either; we had our first squid the other day. These are even worse than the fish which leave only scales and the occasional wing. Squid on the other hand leave a nice big blotch of dried ink on the deck.

You have to wonder how incredibly surprised these guys must be. I mean, what are the odds? It would be like you or me diving off a boat in the middle of the ocean only to land on a submarine. It’s probably one of those surprising facts; right now I bet there’s a squid at a party trying to impress its friends by telling them that more of them die each year by randomly jumping onto a boat than are eaten by sharks.

So that line in the last post in front of the sunrise was of the mainsheet. You can tell because there were several lines in the shot indicating multiple purchases and the mainsheet is the only multi-purchase line on our boat. If you were especially clever you may have deduced that since we are heading west, and that it was a sunrise shot then the picture must have been taken facing aft and in all likelihood from the cockpit, and if you were in our cockpit facing aft you would be looking straight at the mainsheet.

Congratulations to someone! Only a couple hundred miles to go now, it won’t be long before we can see your comments and tally up all the beers we owe.

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