Saturday 22 Feb – noon to noon 160 nm

Our third weekend since leaving the Canaries at the start of the month. Life
now has a completely relaxing rhythm to it; the pace set by mealtimes during
the day and two hour watches over night. Can now completely understand
Bernard Montissier’s decision in the first round the world yacht race to
keep on going rather than turn north up the Atlantic to the finish and a
return to the world he had left behind many months previous. There is a bit
in each of us which would be happy to continue sailing but all voyages must
come to an end and this one of Temptress’ is rapidly approaching that point
where we are in the end bit rather than the middle bit. Yesterday’s reading
material picked up at intervals by all the crew was the section on Grenada
in Chris Doyles Windward Isles Pilot – anchorages, new fruit and veg, rum
distilleries and organic chocolate factories, waterfalls and Henry’s Safaris
who seem to do everything from taxi services to laundry, not to mention
nutmegs and other exotic spices that give the island its other name “The
Spice Island”. We are eager to be there, to see lush greenery and tree’s,
more wildlife than simply the occasional Tropic Bird.

How do four people get on in such a small space for so long? Well it helps
that we’ve sailed together for many years in closer confines that Temptress’
14m. The four of us are fairly easy going and the single handed watches
provide some “me” time when we can mull over our own thoughts, scribble our
journals etc. And during the day we are entirely flexible allowing each
other to retire to a bunk, snooze in the cockpit, read or boil the kettle
again. There is a lot to that binds us together sailing stories from our
joint past of the do you remember when type and events such as yesterday
evening’s porpoise visit – more than we could count crowded around the boat
leaping and playing in Temptress’ bow wave plus making plans for our
destination.

One subject that comes up regularly with much hilarity is that though Kevin
and I are at home, technically both our crew are homeless; Paul because he
and Kate have just sold their house in Sussex and Joe because he should be
flat hunting but he is sailing with us. Hence this is a ship of vagrants
wandering the ocean. Happy and though isolated from the world not lonely.
We’ve heard nothing on the VHF or seen any ships since last Saturday only
whales, birds, flying fish and porpoises for company but we have had a few
garbled US Coastguard messages on the navtex so not completely cut off.

Supplies of Tropical are running low so this evenings sundowner’s consisted
of a G&T for the naviguesser and rum for the boys. Onions and apples are
holding out well and there are still three butternut squashes and loads of
cabbage under the saloon table. The last portions of chicken are
defrosting – three giant chicken breasts that will make two suppers for
Sunday and Monday. Sausages for breakfast tomorrow – Paul has promised us a
fry up. Just one pack of sausages is keeping the ice cubes company in the
ice box now but we’ve a lifetimes supply of chorizo squirreled away in the
bottom of the fridge by the skipper before we left the Canaries so our last
supper promises to be his chorizo risotto. The crew are happy and well fed!