Wednesday 17th May
Yesterday on day 4 the remaining perishables perished and our demi-God of cooking, Mick, lost count. So Francis and Ian took on the galley duties, commencing with the jettisoning of the content of the last punnet of mushrooms, a vari-coloured (hah, the US spell-checker allowed that) selection of peppers, and most of two heads of iceberg lettuce. The remnants plus the so-familiar-to-all steak and spuds were then applied to providing another fine repas. No pulling or anything else “like a dog” ensued.
We are well out of the Tropics now on 25o 25.8, -55o 25.3, and so, down below, at night and indeed during the day, we can once again sleep without copious loss through our pores of bodily fluids. This is a very excellent thing.
The weather is behaving to grib, as it should, forecast as it is by NOAA, the God of Synoptics. However, at the micro-level, NOAA is not able to control the gust cells, and during the night one snook up slowly behind us, killed the wind, doused the watch, and then piped up to 30 knots. An astute move by Captain Drewry onto 310 CC took us out if its path and after an hour or so we were back in NOAA’s ESE 12kn airflow, heading straight for Horta on the ortho.
This morning, NOAA has turned down his wind-engine, again as promised, and we have switched the donk-engine on. Let us see will the wind return for perhaps another day’s sailing before we hit the blue ridge mountains separating the Trades from the North Atlantic depressions procession, which we hope to be able to cross engine-assisted in a time of about 3 days.