Well, it seems the Watermaker membrane is buggered. We ran the unit through the night and in the morning; the quality of the water was just as bad, if not worse. Email exchanges with the ever helpful Jim at Mactra confirmed the diagnosis and so Peter has another piece of equipment to add to his burgeoning luggage when he flies out to join Hejira in the Azores.
We have been broad reaching under jib alone in increasing wind and seas for the last 24 hours and maintained good pace along the rhumb line to Faial. We have done 153 miles through the water but only 140 miles towards our destination because of a half knot adverse current. The wind has been a steady 25 knots with gusts over 30 exactly as forecast. AWOL continues to be stationed off our beam and we exchange the occasional VHF conversation to share our assessments – and because it is good to talk to Cliff. There are only two on board, his crew having replaced his partner Val in Bermuda. He had not met his new crew before he arrived in Bermuda having recruited him over the internet and only ‘Skyped’ to assess his suitability. It must be like internet dating and it is apparent that obtaining crew in this way is commonplace. It seems to have worked out in Cliff’s case but there was a yacht, bound for the USA, left behind in Bermuda because the new (internet) crew refused to leave after seeing the weather forecast. Not a good start to crew bonding.
The radar is once again a mass of purple as we experience yet another downpour.
Yesterday I was writing about how flat and relaxing it’s been so far.
I shouldn’t have jinxed it I suppose, because the sea’s kicked up a bit.
I don’t want to exaggerate, it’s not huge by any means – but it’s bigger.
And that means a little extra difficulty when going about one’s business.
You know, the business of eating, drinking, sleeping and peeing in a straight line.
I once again donned the chef’s hat this afternoon; rustling up a beef and potato concoction that wasn’t altogether unpleasant.
And once again, we washed my cooking down with a glass of that trusty 9% wine.
I think the skipper has worked long and hard enough to finally enjoy some of the finer things in life.
Apparently that includes wine that comes out of a cardboard box.
I’m just grateful there’s room enough for me at his refined table.
I really am. The wine’s quite tasty.
Though the skipper’s and my enthusiasm for the wine isn’t shared by Barry.
He forewent a glass saying, “No thank you. And drink it quick to just get rid of it.”
The skipper replied, “Will do…then we can open the next box.”
After dinner we settled down to watch a film. Magic.
That’s the name of the film. It’s about a ventriloquist, played by Anthony Hopkins, who gets possessed by his dummy.
At the risk of sounding like a wannabe seagoing film-critic; if you like a spooky film – Magic is for you.
I retired to my bunk for some shut-eye before my watch.
However, I was awake for most of the time – trying to resist getting tossed-off.
Really – it’s almost impossible to sleep when the waves threaten to throw you out of bed.
But you knew that’s what I meant.