We both sleep well and although Mike’s tonsillitis is not better, it’s better than it was.
It’s a glorious morning. The sea could be a bit calmer but for once we are grateful that the wind is not strong. It’s an amazing sight to see a beautiful sunrise on one side of the boat and the moon still out on the other. I’m always amazed at how quickly the sky lightens once it gets going.
I don’t get to have my morning sleep. I try but it just doesn’t happen and mindful that we have to get the sail fixed one way or another, I get up early.
Mike assembles all his tools, puts on his life jacket and gets to work. I am instructed to sit at the helm, wait for instructions and generally be a gofer. I know my place.
Mike goes to the mast and joins together the two cars (the things that slide the sail up and down in the mast track) which are above and below the split. He then drills a hole through the lower baton holder and ties the two batons together with very thick cable ties.
We roll away the genoa and hoist the main. It flaps around a bit and has a very peculiar shape, but the fix holds … for about 30 seconds before the cable tie joining the cars together breaks. Down with the main, out with the genoa and Mike has another go, this time tying it with a strong cord. In comes the genoa, up goes the main and hey presto … another few seconds and the cable ties come apart from the batons. However, the third go holds, although we get a secondary rip under the lower baton due to over zealous sail hoisting. As I stand and admire Mike’s work, I notice blood over the sail, the result of him knocking off an earlier scab on his arm. At least this is an improvement. Usually he bleeds all over our white bed linen.
We watch that rip all afternoon but it never gets any bigger than about 4 inches across. The ’fix’ is not a brilliant one but it works – for now. We won’t be able to use the main in winds any stronger than 20 knots but it we get that much wind we only need to use the genoa to be able to maintain the speed Basia is doing under motor.
I make a very strange lunch with instant packet noodles, left over bolognaise, a tin of sweetcorn and some spicy sauce. Not one for the recipe books, certainly, nor one that I would foist on anyone else (well except for Victoria) but actually pretty good and ready in minutes.
Mike goes for a well earned rest in the afternoon and I keep a wary eye on the sail. It holds (although it makes a strange, rather pathetic flapping noise and looks very unattractive) and the lower rip doesn’t spread. We’ll fix it with sail tape tomorrow. We catch up with our little convoy and then pass them all during the evening, staying a couple of miles ahead. The only commercial traffic that appears on the radar stays miles away.
Our position is: 07 deg 52 min N, 54 deg 14 min W
Distance so far: 23899 nautical miles
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