Halfway there!

Followed by big seas

The magic carpet was finally sent to the cleaners by a fierce and shouty wind. This was accompanied by heavy rain - so much as to flatten the chaotic sea. Trying to put a third reef in, with the wind at our backs pushing the dials well over 30, was laboured. One of the top battens whipped past the shroud and wedged itself there. We had to drop the reluctant sail further to fix up a fourth reef, using this then to pull the end of the batten clear of the shroud. By the time we'd finished, the squall had just about blown itself out. Typical.

This afternoon the sun made a dazzling appearance and the wind reduced considerably. So much so that we hauled up the Screecher. A perfect half winder. It was not to be however as the pin on the end of the Screecher's furling block unthreaded itself (thankfully it did not break but it is a mystery sometimes how these things can happen at all). The sail made a bid for freedom, secured at only two of the usual three points, and had to be wrestled down to the trampoline. Now we're under main and genoa and its a bit slow.

We are fast approaching the halfway point of the passage, having covered 628 miles with another 640 odd remaining. This morning we traded the comfortable goosewing with waves from astern for a bumpy broad reach with water more abeam. We are adopting the classic Azores-Northern Europe tactic which is to sail NE until level with the top of Biscay then steer a direct course to destination(wind and water permitting). A classic passage rides on the famous Azores high and sailors steer up like this to avoid being blown into the inhospitable bay by an associated Westerly wind. This however is a strange year, marked in these latitudes by a distinct absence of the usual Azores high. So we are riding a low pressure sytem on winds from the Southern quadrant. We don't therefore run the risk of being forced into the delectable Bilescay but are still adopting the traditional tactic because a high pressure system lies in the bay and we don't want to end up in it (especially given our recently discovered talent for becoming becalmed).

Day five and lots of wind. We are down to four reefs in the main and a mere smidgen of headsail. The waves are not so big but they are running fast, putting the boot in our stern every few seconds. We are the boat that rocks but not in the 1970's groovy sense (I have dug out the Stugeron as a matter of precaution). The ocean is an ugly grey, scored and marked by the clawing wind. The sky is grey, dull and oppressive. We are both tired, damp, cold, dirty and we smell. Miraculously we are still being nice to eachother (all credit to the four-on-four-off watch system). On the bright side: we are on course for the Isles of Scilly, we have at long last found the charts for them and it is not raining.