Mike sets the alarm for 5 am. Although we don’t need to be up that early to get out (the cats will be the last boats to leave the marina because we don’t have to worry about low tide), Mike has bills that he needs to pay on the internet and other stuff to do.
It’s 7.30 am before our lines are slipped and we edge out of the murky brown water that has been home for the last few days. It will be wonderful to be able to pump clean sea water into the toilets for a change instead of the stuff that has been staining the bowls. I can’t believe fish live in here or that people actually fish for them. Ugh. I dread to think of the stomach problems that would create for me.
We head back up the channel, a little line of cats, passing the monohulls in the fleet who have anchored in a part of the channel which is dredged to a deeper depth. Up ahead we watch a French cruise ship, the Bleu de France, being pulled into position by a tug against the main dock. Basia, ahead of us, is asked to wait until the liner is safely tucked into position before passing, and we wait as well until the go-ahead is given.
Photo: Yachts, cruise liners and fishing boats all use the channel
Photos: Strange monuments alongside the channel remind me more of Egypt than Brazil
Photo: Leaving Recife - almost as grey as when we arrived!
Photo: A tug pulls a cruise liner into position
Photo: Almost there
Out in the bay we get the main sail up and start to prepare for crossing the start line. This 20 minutes or so is nerve-wracking to me. All that jiggling and jostling for position seems ridiculous in such a small space and some captains really don’t seem to know the rules of the road, or do but ignore them anyway. Normally Mike hangs back but today he doesn’t and when the final signal sounds, over we go, switching the engines off just before we cross the line. We cross in the middle of the pack – I keep my eyes half closed – I’m a great help!
Photo: Almost over the start line
Photo: Paul goes around taking photographs as we start
Once out we have to go round a marker buoy but as it is dead on the nose for us, and cats don’t tack that well, Mike switches the engine on and puts the genoa away so we can make a straight run for it. We notice most of the other cats doing the same thing.
The wind is relatively light (less than 10 knots) but the seas are choppy with short, uncomfortable waves. It’s not long before I start to feel a little sea sick and head for bed once Mike has got Jeannius on course and the genoa is back out.
I sleep fitfully for a couple of hours and Mike wakes me at noon. It is so hot in the cabin and I get up feeling sticky and gross before being thrown up the stairs to the salon by a rogue wave.
Preparing lunch doesn’t help much and once that is cleared away, I take to the sofa while Mike goes to sleep. There are still boats close all around us and I can count 10 that I can see, some just half a mile away and others as little white specks on the horizon.
During the afternoon the wind continues to pick up and there are frequent squalls although most seem to pass us with a couple of miles to spare.
I’m exhausted from the heat and the constant motion already. Mike cheers me up by saying that if we only do 5 knots an hour it will take 18 days to get to Grenada. Wonderful! However, by the time I go to bed we are doing around 7 knots – I hope this continues! The down side of this of course (why does there always have to be a down side?) is that we are now crashing and pounding our way through the sea. Getting to sleep should be interesting.
Our position is: 06 deg 42 min S, 34 deg 39 min W
Distance so far: 22538 nautical miles
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