SERENITY NOW

Woke to: “I might need a hand, there’s squalls around” ..and although there were, we reefed and managed to avoid the worst of them. This did give us enough ‘correct’ wind to spend some of the morning sailing, before our signature tune ‘Flappety flap flap flap’ started playing in the rigging. Once we plucked up courage to try flying the spinnaker again, the wind turned gusty and rain came down - it did not go well. Sushi for lunch (for me at least) Then as Martin caught up on some sleep in the front cabin, we were visited by a pod of around 25 playful dolphins who spent some time messing around at our bow - always a good mood lifter. Dinner was a close to the bottom of the provisioning barrel concoction of noodles and the last of the ‘fresh’ veggies. “SHIP!!” Cries the skipper after dinner as the galley slaves are washing up below. Sure enough, the first vessel for over a week is spotted on the horizon. It’s a massive I don’t know what - possibly military as no sign of it on the AIS. La

Woken by Chez having some issues with keeping the Hydrovane on course, and to the news that Martin quite possibly has Covid. He’s still not feeling too good - headache and nausea. Thankfully after taking one of the self tests, he came back with a negative, so it’s not Covid. For now, we’re putting it down to him adjusting to the lack of sleep, the constant uncomfortable rolling and the bracing sea air. ...or possibly the company! I made sushi for brunch with the last of the mahi-mahi (got to thinking; is that the same fish they call dorado?). Cooked rice, rolled it up with strips of fish and cucumber in nori (seaweed sheets), then chilled. Ate with soy sauce, fresh ginger and wasabi - absolutely delicious! Reminded me of days at the sushi train restaurant back in Sydney with Charlie stacking empty plates up like they’re going out of fashion. The wind has finally started doing what it’s supposed to be doing - whizzing us West at somewhere between 6 and 7 knots - hoping that the days (an

  Well, despite the skipper having Covid - we’re off! Day 1: Wednesday 12 Jan 2022 All glad to be heading away from Mindelo. Not the worst place in the world by a long shot, but still glad to be saying goodbye. We leave in very hazy conditions - apparently a wind known as the ‘Hammatan’ (not to be confused with MC Hammer’s 80s hit ‘Hammertime’) blows dust over from the Sahara and creates a false fog which reduces visibility considerably. As I write this we’re passing another of the Verde islands just 3 miles to our North and there is no sign of it whatsoever. 10 minutes into the journey, and Martin has successfully begun our fish tally for this leg with a handsome Almaco Amberjack (AKA Longfin Yellowtail). A good sized fish with two forks in the guide book meaning excellent eating. That’s now filleted and marinating for dinner tonight in a mixture of soy, honey, ginger, garlic and chilli... yum. For now at least, a depleted Chez has retired to her cabin - we think resting is the best t

  Mindelo is a bit of a tired rundown town, dusty streets lined with crumbling pastel coloured former Portuguese Colonial architecture. Stray dingo-like dogs curl in the sun at every corner - and whilst possibly rabid, they all appear quite tail waggingly friendly and surprisingly well fed. The coffee skinned locals have a lot of hanging around time on their hands too, mainly decked out in unknown football teams strips they group around in palm tree shaded spots here and there. The whole place very reminiscent of Port Morseby in Papua New Guinea from my perspective. Despite the obvious poverty - there’s no begging, and a tolerable, but only mildly annoying number of people trying to hustle and hassle you in one way or another. The open fish market was worth a look for the shear size of the fish within: it made our mahi mahi efforts look pretty insignificant. There’s a wide array of exotic fish on display, outnumbered by flies 10:1 which the stall holders gently waft away with straw fan

  It’s day one of our BIG voyage today, and also day one of a brand new year. We wake early in the Marina at Las Palmas after a sober(ish) New Year’s Eve the night before. Breakfasting as the sun starts to warm the edge of the horizon. We pull in our lines from the jetty, the morning sky lightens, and just like that, with little ceremony, we’re away. We head out into glass clear water showing barely a ripple as we weave our way through waiting tankers. Sprawling Las Palmas gradually fades in the hazy morning glow behind us. As I write this - some hours later - we are still just off the coast of Gran Canaria, the land about to drop off in the next few hours. Our required course.. for the next week or so... is 220 degrees - which Chez, at the helm, advises we’ve just turned to. Wildlife spotted today (so far) 2 seagulls, and 2 flying fish. Now it’s sunset day 1, the sky is clear blue, and we’re gliding along under sail alone and feeling the ‘Serenity Now’. Later in the evening the wind d