Drifting south

Yesterday started with a quick trip to the foredeck in the pitch black to re-tether the infamous Blue Water Runner. The ropes that hold the bottom of the sail to the furling chord had worn through and so it was impossible to furl the sail away. The sail was also working its way gradually up the furling chord, which was surprising given the sails affinity with the sea. Thankfully the wind was light enough that I could run some new lines to re-tether the sail.

I went back to sleep and woke to the sound of rain beating down on the hatches. For those of you in the grips of a UK winter that may not sound that surprising, but here in the land of endless blue skies and stifling heat it is a little unusual. We had been caught by a squall and when we turned on the radar you could see a long line of them stretched out across the screen, each one showing up as an ominous red blob. As dawn broke you could see that a slate grey, flat-bottomed cloud matched each red blob on the screen - the wonders of technology. Normally you would avoid squalls because they are associated with strong winds, but its all relative. The 10 knot increase in windspeed is a welcome boon when the background breeze is just 5 to 6 knots. The downside is that once the squall has passed the wind drops away altogether. By mid-morning we found ourselves encircled by squalls, with the wind switching to the west rather than the east. We were heading back to Cape Verde! Albeit slowly.

The rest of the fleet seemed to be finding better wind to the south and with no annoying squalls and so we decided to abandon the rhumb line (the line of shortest distance between Cape Verde and St. Lucia) and follow suit. With no wind we had to resort to the engine and so motored for an hour until the wind picked up. That set the pattern for the day. Twice more we had to resort to short periods of motoring to find the wind, but once the wind picked up to around 6 knots we could start sailing again. With the Blue Water Runner safely stowed down below, we enjoyed an uneventful day of sailing under gennaker, with a passing butterfly proving the most excitement. The peace was briefly broken by the sound of a spray can down below. My first thought was that Maverick was back and that Vanessa had resorted to chemical warfare, but thankfully it was just the sound of the polish can. The lack of drama outside the boat had driven Vanessa to buff up the mahogany inside. Her enthusiasm for spring-cleaning has continued into this morning and I fear Jacob and I are next in line to be polished.