The Atlantic

The Atlantic crossing went well, with just one “Goldilocks gale”, not too big, not too small, just nice and breezy, and exactly long enough for the excitement to wear off and the flat seas and sunshine to be welcomed by all hands with delight once it had passed. It seems Neptune was quickly appeased, a good omen for the voyage.

Our course has been almost due South, with a few points first to East and then to West to position us on the advantageous side of a couple of low pressure systems. We’ve been able to sail most of the time with a small amount of “iron topsail” to keep up our progress South when the wind wasn’t cooperating. We are a very pretty sight with all square sails set, the t’gallants especially have a lovely full shape when set just right, and the royals seem to be as much a part of the sky as the ship. We’ve had a couple of yachts come closer than strictly recommended by the collision regulations to take a closer look, but who can blame them?

As our latitude has dropped off from 45°N in Canada down through the thirties and twenties, the clothes have been also falling off the crew. The 15 minute layering ceremony of thermal underwear right up to waterproofs and woolly hat has been replaced by a shorts, t-shirt and sun block routine, although foulies still make an appearance in the squally moments especially at night. The water temperature has been building pleasingly from 4°C in Lunenburg to a respectable 16°C or so once we hit the wonderful Gulf Stream and is now a tropical 29°C. This was considered good news until the Cap’n explained that 29 degrees is the magical temperature above which hurricanes can form from a tropical low…I have to admit to watching with slight trepidation for each incoming squall just in case it’s a tiny hurricane that somehow escaped our satellite weather forecasting system and radar.

All hands have now settled into the routine of their watches, it’s an easy 4 hours on, 8 hours off with the different watches having ship’s work to keep them busy as well as sailing the ship. Rust busting, cleaning, helping Donald (our awesome cook), tarring, painting and greasing are all now as much a part of life as steering, keeping look out, running up aloft to furl or loose sails, and handling lines. We are starting to look a little more like sailors and less like dyspraxic geriatrics as we find our sea legs and to stare a little less blankly when the mate of our watch shouts out an order: “hands to the main braces” now only usually has one or two of our watch accidentally running for the fore sheets.

Today was a milestone on the Aloha deck: our first fish! Congratulations to Julie and Dan with Logan’s patented bungee line. It was a respectable size, but the Mate sagely insisted we return it to the Pescatorial Gods to improve the future catch. We also had a suicidal flying fish stun itself on Port side of the scullery, first flying fish goes to the Cap’n and the second to the ship’s cat, or is it the other way around?

So now the thought of rum and ice creams on a Caribbean beach is making for a party atmosphere on board, as people top up their tans to make ready for bikinis and dig out their shore clothes in anticipation of “cultural experiences” ashore.

The next time someone suggests sailing South to find the tropical trade winds I think I already have my answer.

written by  Shellback Fire Coral on June 27, 2010 from George Hill, Anguilla
from the travel blog: Sailing to Rarotonga
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