Day 10
The forecast was for more wind again last night and so at dusk we snugged down to a trysail and No 3. Even though it never really got more than 25 knots we pottered along happily under this tiny rig and still managed 145 miles over the last 24 hours. I guess that if you are ever going to be conservative – 900 miles from civilisation is a good place to start – more haste less speed etc etc . We are now sporting the strange rig of two boomed out headsails and a trysail , and if the grib files confirm our suspicions , will soon exchange the No 3 for the No 1.
Bryonys obsession with figures has rubbed off, and we eagerly await the next significant number in miles to go . Thus 999 888 and 777 are now past , 750 is just around the corner (5/8ths of the way!), but we wont celebrate 747 however symetrical it may be as it just reminds us how slowly we are creeping across the globe compared with most of our fellow men. Sitting in the cockpit in the warm starlight , and watching the wake bubble astern there is a feeling of effortless perpetual motion – gently moving on and on and on – it is somehow very pleasing .
We cant help thinking of the poor rowers . How are they doing? They cannot just sit in the cockpit sipping a cold drink or ( at night ) a hot chocolate. They have to provide their own momentum and in the middle of the day it must be grim indeed.
So , all well from Festina , making haste slowly at 14 22 N , 46 39 W.