Yinne-koek

Day 23 of the Return trip

 

There is only one word needed to describe last night: Bedlam.

 

I have to bust this entry out pretty quickly, as things have not yet entirely calmed down.

 

Start off with this image in your mind: Picture a little fat kid, on a tricycle, going down a steep hill, with no brakes and his feet off the pedals. That was us last night.

 

Basically, when the wind finally swung around to the North-West, it cam through with a vengeance. We were getting gusts of over 30 knots before the sunset, which increased to very frequent gusts in the 40s as the night went on. What made the conditions so crazy was not the wind. It was the waves.

We weren't getting the nice long South Atlantic gentle-giants. These waves were short, steep and aggressive, with many anomalous waves hitting the quarter.

 

Before the sun set we tucked it in for the night, putting the second reef in the main, putting the gybe-preventer on and poling out the jib. In order to try manage the worsening sea-state, I slung two spinnaker sheets and the old main halyard from the stern of the boat. I had never done this before, but heard it recommended numerous times before. The ropes serve to help with directional stability downwind, take the sting off the the crests of the impending waves (thanks, Kelvin Thomas), and slow the boat down somewhat.

 

I'm not sure how much they helped with the third one, because we still maxed out at 18.1 knots, and got well over a 200 mile day.

 

Steering the boat was difficult for a number of reasons. Firstly, it was pitch-black. We're around the time of new-moon, and the clouds destroyed any hope of light from the stars. Most of the waves you didn't have to see, tough. You would hear the growling of the white water behind you as the stern of the boat got picked up. So take the picture of the little fat kid and add a blind-fold.

 

Fatigue made it a bit more taxing as well. Dave and I did tag-team driving through the evening and the night. 3 hours on and 3 hours off. We were poked by the end of it.

 

 

 

As I write this, the breeze has settled down to mid-twenty knots. But above that, the sea has calmed down into those nice long swells that we like so much. We could delegate a good couple of hours of the morning's driving to Ric which helped a lot.

 

Now it would seem that the fat kid is nearing the bottom of the hill, and may need to start climbing again soon...

 

BR

Eastbound and not Down

Day 22 of the return trip

 

Please excuse the fact that Day 21's blog entry hasn't been posted. It is waiting in the drafts folder until everyone has had a chance to contribute to it. This may take a while given our current circumstances. Read on...

 

We left the idyllic weather behind us just as fast as we did the island. We got the first rain as we were beating into a light SE breeze. As per our incredibly apt shore-crew's forecast, the breeze started to back around to the NE, as a small low pressure system moved in behind us. The wind continued to build very steadily as it backed further to the North. At 1500 we had to change to the storm jib, to accompany our reefed mainsail. Then at 1800, we found ourselves heading due north, which meant that to tack would put us bang on course for the V&A Waterfront. So we did.

 

The rain persisted on and off through all of this, but mostly on. The 25 knots of wind on the beam, and frequent spray from waves had us all drenched. But it's okay. At least we had a constant fresh-water shower.

 

Our cuisine on board has been nothing short of outstanding lately. Our previous night's kreef dinner set the benchmark, which Ricardo surpassed with a mouth-watering pasta bolognese using mince we bought on the island.

Then to cap it all off, half an hour before dinner time, Chancho and I reeled in another meal-for-four tuna. So we put the rice-cakes back in the cupboard and chowed that guy instead.

 

Back to the sailing side of things, we are riding the wind off this low, and heading as true East as is humanly possible. Maybe after a few 200 milers we'll have a chance to dry everything out again. Our longitude is in the single digits, and will be changing from degrees West to degrees East any day now.

 

Once again we'd like to thank everyone for their glorious emails of good tidings, well wishes and love letters. You all keep us moving!

 

BR

A Day on the Volcano

Day 21 of the return trip

 

When the ferry boat arrived at the dock, it was clear why they weren't able to collect us on the previous days. The surge in the 'harbour' was bad, even in the favourable conditions that the new day had brought. The original harbour had offered much better protection, but was entirely filled up when the (still currently active) volcano erupted in 1961. The new harbour consists of 2 straight breakwaters constructed of locally made dollices (sp?), which offer minimal protection from any kind of northerly swell.

 

We were led up to the administration building where we presented our ship's papers and received that coveted Tristan da Cunha passport stamp. Each one perfectly in the middle of a fresh page of passport. After receiving the hugs and best wishes that our families had managed to send to the island via one of the Admin office ladies, we were lead to the supermarket by Dawn - the island's tourism officer.

 

The supermarket on the island is just a bit bigger than your average corner shop. But it had everything we needed - MATCHES, Clean Green, Sunlight soap, etc. Due to Cape Town being the closest port, most of the shop's shelves were filled with some good homely South African things. No Chakalaka or Zoo Biscuits though. At the back of the shop was a little store selling curios and a lot of really nice handmade woollen items.

 

From the supermarket, Dawn took us to the Tourist Centre/Post Office, where we could put our bags down, have a little bite to eat, and put our frozen goods from the shop in the freezer.

 

From there we split up. And this is where things get interesting. We went off as three groups: Myself and Gina; Ric and Dave; and Raf on his unit.

Here's what each person has to say:

 

Raf: (who decided to narrate in third-person) After a brief stop at Tristan da Cunha's very own internet cafe (a concrete block attached to the towns police station) for some admin, Raf made his way through the town to find Ric and Dave making their way up the 1960's volcanic eruption site on the island. Following that, he went on his own mission to explore the west side of the island and to summit a hill that he had previously singled out from the anchorage. Hopping over a few streams, climbing several fences and pushing his way through many a cow, brave young Chancho made his way to the top, breathing out of his ass, yet took the time to appreciate the view and snap a couple shots. With only a few minutes to spare until rendezvous with the group he raced back to town to meet the others, stopping only at a conveniently unlocked bathroom with a tiny basin to which he took full advantage of.

 

Ric: (now in first-person)

Stepping onto land after a long ocean voyage is a magical experience, add to it the magic of the land being a fabled volcano, all of my being was tingling with excitement. In those first few minutes everything was happening at warp speed, there was so much to take in that it all had to be so quick, all the mannerisms and behaviours of these mysterious people on this overwhelming back drop. On the walk up the steep road from the harbour time finally settled down a little and the reality of Tristan da Cunha started to take over.

The volcano is ridiculous, it is so massive and ruggered that every-time you look up you are surprised at just how tall the cliffs are and how black the tristanite is. After clearing customs and getting a very rare stamp in the passport we quickly headed to the shop before spending a few hours exploring. I had no money and there is no way of getting money, so I spent the time at the shop speaking to a few of the locals and finding out a little about life on the Island and the 7 surnames. Once we were done at the shop it was time to really explore, we looked to the volcano and headed straight for the sight of the eruption. On the way there the town's doctor stopped to chat a little and gave us directions and a bit of advice. Heading to the volcano we passed around the top of the village and then round the green pastures to the east, the greeness of the grass only out done by the drama of the landscape massive gullies and striations criss-crossing the land (hopefully the photos will do it some justice). Hiking up the volcano was a really cool experience the primal untouched land and the awesomeness of the geothermal vents - then you looked up and saw the beauty of the town and the green hills just yonder. After the volcano I made my way west towards the green hills, to see if I could get to the potato patches, but due to a classic time mix-up, I didnt quite get to the potato patches before having to return to town. When I realised I still had an hour I wondered around town for a bit , visiting a few of the historical sites and then heading back towards the potato patches but I realised I wouldn't make it there so I enjoyed the journey.

I meandered along the edge of the cliff which must be at least 200m tall looking down at the rocks below and admiring just how far from the rest of the world these people live. After a little while enjoying the green hills and the mooing cows Gina and Bren appeared in a white Jeep with Iain the town's doctor, it was time to reunite with the rest of the team for our last hour on the island before our adventure home continued.

 

Dave:

Secretly, this island stopover was a glaring incentive when Bren invited me on this trip. Not only did we get to visit the island, but we did so on the most glorious of days. Once our immigration formalities had been completed, I made a B-line straight for the site of the most recent volcanic eruption on the island, that of 1961.

As a geology student, it was the most fascinating morning of exploration and discovery. Walking through the lava flows Ric D and I both commented how the scenery resembled that of Mordor - rich, black jagged, unforgiving pinnacles of volcanic glass. I'm sure the 200 odd pictures on my camera will do that justice. As we started climbing the mound I started noticing all those volcanic rocks and features I had only learnt about. The most interesting was pumice - a volcanic rock perforated with gas bubbles allowing it to float - literally.  We also stumbled across some geothermal vents - holes in the ground leaking out hot (50 degree) air. It was only towards to summit that I actually took the time to look up from the ground and admire the view, and what an impressive site. Afterwards, I continued my unabated rock collecting mission alone, venturing through the town and along the coast. Looking down from the steep cliffs I could see shoals of fish cruising through the kelp beds. once I had rendezvoused with the others, we were hosted by the islands docter for a Castle beer and locally baked bread. I returned to the boat with my pockets bulging with rocks, a handful in my hand and a few stashed in other peoples bags - souvenirs for the NMMU geology department ouens. All in all, it was a fascinating visit, and well worth the 2 nights spent bobbing about at anchorage waiting in anticipation.

 

Gina:

There's much to be said about a volcanic island. So lush and beautiful. A wide awakening to the fact that the only thing little about this island is the population.

Everything else is quite expansive with space and size as the mountain looms over you. When walking around it honestly felt like I'd stepped out of reality and into a dreamy meadow. It was such a treat too having a supermarket loaded with treats from home as the closest port is Cape Town! Liquorice and Top Deck!!! Having a personal tour by the Doctor of the Island with Bren was something else as we were invited into the history of the Island by someone who knew more of what we were wanting to know as he too had the outside perspective once. A friendly man, not that hospitality is anything to come by on Tristan. The smiles, waves and friendly good mornings were not hard to come by when running into a local and it made life just too enjoyable to see other people around. They must have thought we were another bunch of crazy though, travelling around on such a small boat at this time of year.

Having the grass between our toes again was something quite fantastic as Bren and I took our shoes off to walk along the path to the potato patches. I think it's about then that a local drove past and thought we might be out of our minds. So much is taken for grated with the simplicities of life - walking, grass under your feet, a friendly smile, hospitality of a kind stranger.

 

 

Bren:

The settlement of Edinburgh is very quaint to say the least. A handful of hovels in a group, cows and sheep wandering all around, chicken coups and potato patches. Then there's the colossal volcano on whose doorstep they perch. It looks a bit like Middle Earth, but with the Shire and Mordor right next to one another. It would have suited Frodo well, he could just simply have walked into Mordor.

It's all very green and pretty. I'm sure they pay for it in kak weather like the brits do. But not on our visit. They say that we saw the best weather the island has ever had.

Gina and I split from the others and set off towards the potato patches to the west of the town. We kicked our shoes off and left them next to a rock so we could enjoy the soft green grass under our feet. It was like walking through a post-card - green landscape with volcanic rocks scattered everywhere, sheep getting lost on the volcano.

They boast the World's Most Remote Everything here. The world's most remote population, bus-stop, hospital, golf course, post-office, potato patch, you name it.

Walking was like a new experience. We stumbled into doors, tripped on our own feet, and had to fight the urge to hold on to something while we re-learned walking on solid ground.

We had walked for about an hour when Iain (one of the resident doctors on a 6 month stint from the other Edinburgh) stopped in a Land Rover, and offered us a quick guided tour of the West side of the island. It was great. Though he was also an outsider of sorts he was able to answer a lot of our questions, and even invited us to his house for drinks and some fresh bread afterwards.

That's where we met up with Ric and Dave

 

And the story continues...

 

After Iain's, we rushed to the Supermarket and Tourist Centre for some last- minute purchases. Just before we hopped onto the rubber-duck to get carted back to Ciao Bella, Iain brought us a box of Kreef (crayfish) - the island's speciality, fresh from the factory - for us to enjoy on the boat. What a true gent.

 

Back on the boat, we had a bit of tidying to do before we could leave. The anchor line had put itself around the back of the keel, so out came the wetsuit (not the speedo this time) and Capitao got in the water to make right.

 

Just in case you thought it couldn't get any better, the kreef that we got from Iain went STRAIGHT into the pressure cooker, and was served hot with black pepper and fresh squeezed lemon juice. Ric jokes that we polished off the crayfish while we were still close enough to hear voices from the island.

 

As we motored away, the sun said cheers, and  the lights of the little town lit up under the shadow of the volcano before becoming a fading loom on the horizon.

The Waiting Game

Day 20 of the Return trip

 

Based on the weather forecasts, Dad's recommendation and the suggestion of Tristan Radio, we opted to wait out the rough seas at anchor. This was going to be a torturous wait, but we held onto the hopes that our visit to the island would be worth it.

 

After the Day 19 blog, the bad news is that the conditions didn't improve that afternoon. On such an afternoon, I could easily understand why the Brits would have wanted to settle here. It's cold, rainy and remarkably green. Until this point our spirits had been as up and down as the boat. We had to raise the anchor, cut the kelp off, and reposition the boat THREE times because our anchor had been dragging in the rough seas. Then as soon as we had committed to waiting another night, the westerly wind came through at about 25 knots. This made things harder to bear. We were in the face of the perfect conditions to continue our journey home. The frustration of the bobbing was nothing by compared to the zephyr that had mockingly arrived.

 

Now I feel that I have to follow up the last paragraph with some good news. The good news turns out to be very good - we paid our price of another night of bobbing and rolling at anchor; but on the morning that followed...

 

At 0800 UTC a call came in from Tristan Radio asking if we still wanted to come ashore. Was that a rhetorical question? The breeze had died of in the wee hours of the morning, and so had the sea state. The sun had risen on a perfect day in the South Atlantic. We radioed in to the affirmative, and requested that they send out the ferry-boat post-haste.

Pit-stop Arrival

Day 19 of the Return trip.

I've had my Day numbers mixed up on the blog titles. I wonder if anyone noticed. They should be correct now.

 

Flight SA 1398 landed at Tristan da Cunha at around 16:30 yesterday afternoon. We had a glorious sail in.

 

After yesterday's update, we had to drop the Norwegian Blue and go the rest of the way under the #1. The sky stayed blue, and although there was still a chill on the breeze, at least the sun was out. It was exciting to watch the volcanic behemoth grow in size and detail as we got closer. The sheer cliffs and rugged rock-faces make for a beautiful back-drop to the quaint and very much isolated little town. The town is situated on the north-east corner of the island, which holds just about the only patch of inhabitable land. It's big enough to fit the town, and leaves some space for the cows to roam.

 

On the same corner is the only bit of submarine-ground which is suitable for anchoring, which is where we are now. On the downside, it gets deep very rapidly, and also happens to have a kelp JUNGLE on the sea-bed.

Weighing anchor was difficult enough when we had to move this morning, but all of the kelp that we got off the anchor line ended up on our propeller.

So Lula got the goggles and went in the p1ss to cut it all off. Let it be noted that this morning is drizzly, overcast, and cold.

 

In other (slightly more pertinent) news this morning, we have not been able to get onto the island yet. When we arrived yesterday, the ferry-boat crew had all knocked off, and we were told to wait until morning. A movie and an uncomfortable night of anchor-watches later, we radioed in again to find out if we could come ashore.

 

We got our permission, but the hold-up once again was the boat crew.

Because of the large swell and choppy sea, they weren't going to be able to get out of their little harbour, and the transfer of people to boat was going to be sketchy at best.

 

So now we are playing the waiting game. We are patiently biding our time and hoping that the sea-state calms down enough to get onto the island this afternoon. If the wind comes up and the conditions get worse, we will have no choice but to be happy with what we've seen and get on our way again.

There is also the more remote possibility of spending another night at anchor on the off-chance that tomorrow holds better conditions for us.

 

Keep your fingers crossed!

Tristan in the Midst/Mist

Day 18 of the Return Trip

The breeze freed up from a beat to a slightly broader fetch by backing to the North. It didn't increase much, but has held at a steady 10-15 knots.

We have been pushing desperately to get to the island before the end of today. At 4AM the breeze had backed enough for us to put our Code 0 spinnaker up - the Norwegian Blue. We were happy with the added knot to our boat-speed and a slight change of scenery in the sail department.

We can see it now. At about 9AM, the monstrous volcanic island peeked out from behind its shroud of clouds to reveal itself to us. It looks tiny on a chart, but when you're looking up at the 2km high peak from 30 miles away, it's a lot more spectacular.

People are bouncing off the walls in this boat. The excitement is overwhelming - not just to hop onto dry land for a bit, but to visit a real hidden treasure of the world. We have a shopping list for the island which so far consists of: matches, lighters and eggs. I think our needs have become fairly simple.

With the wind coming from the North, it is significantly warmer than the last week has been. Though we will still not call this warm. Speedo days are now definitely a thing of the past. Regardless, the crew have been taking to the sugar-scoop one at a time to wash hair and freshen-up so that we are (mostly) looking sharp for our arrival.

We heard that there was some good fishing to be done around here, but our first catch with our newly untangled lines was a black sea-bird. Raf and Dave reeled it in and Gina baked it into a delicious pie. I'm kidding. Raf and Dave got it in hand, removed the hook and set the guy free.

Our next update may well be from Tristan itself!

Ciao for now

Stairway to Tristan

Day 17 of the Return Trip

The first thing that I need to do is acknowledge Ryan for the title of this one (or I will never hear the end of it).

We are about 180NM from the mystical isle of TdC, and thanks to a fortuitous change in the wind, are looking likely to make it without tacking again.

The moon came out for part of the night watches last night, and for the rest we had to endure a light drizzle of rain. The clouds made a little gap for the sun this morning, which has opened up to reveal some of that evasive blue sky. It's still cold, but it makes you feel a bit better to have the sun shining on you.

Night watches are cause for some great entertainment - particularly when it comes to waking the next candidate up for their watch. There is something about the  motion of the boat, or maybe it's just this boat, that produces the craziest of dreams. The responses of waking people from these dreams are priceless. Some choice ones have been from Dave: "Okay, just hold on, let me get my cricket bag", and "sure thing, where's my towel?".

Brennan: "Just wait, I'm busy explaining something to coach" and "What the hell did you give me a card for??". Ric doesn't say a word for about 20 minutes after he is woken up, but he does take a period of exactly 5 minutes to sit on the engine box and stare at his boots before putting them on (every time). Raf will pipe up with funny comments, but not when he's been woken up - right in the middle of his watch.

We had the mother of all fishing line tangles. It was a macrame of note. It looked like a pile of nylon 2 minute noodles. In fact, it looked a bit like Ric's home-made dream catcher. The two lines that we had out had just made a mess of one another. We stood more chance of catching something if we used them as a net. But we don't have much line to spare, so we took it in turns, and after about 5 hours of relay-untangling we got them undone. It has been decided only to have one hand-line out now.

Love your Monday, and enjoy the last of the long weekend!

The Team

Easter Weekend!

Day 16 of the Return Trip

Shoh, it has been cold of late! Day and night. It seems that the sun has grown bored of us or something, because we haven't seen it in a while. The days are bearable but the nights are proper chilly. We've had to dig out all of the beanies, thermals, woollen socks and gloves from the bottom of our bags. Our saving grace is that it has not been excessively windy, and the sea has been quite calm.

The downside to that, of course, is that it has been pretty slow-going in the Eastbound-traverse. Last night we motor-sailed through the whole night, periodically hoisting the genoa when the Easterly breeze had decided to settle in - which was never for more than an hour at a time. At 5 AM our diesel tank ran try, so it was time to plug in the next one (DO NOT WORRY - we have four tanks!). The next tank in line to be used had its connector nozzle damaged in the rough early part of the trip, so Capitaõ Lula had to descend into the laserette once again to syphon the diesel from the full- but-unoperational tank to the operational-but-empty tank. Despite it being

5 AM, the timing couldn't have been better, with the wind blowing a whopping one knot at the time.

We're not sure if it's continuations of the half-way milestone or Easter weekend celebrations, but we've been spoiling ourselves a little. We busted out some home-style rusks to have with our Five-roses tea, Ric treated us to a great meal using our last stock of salami, and we even had pudding of peaches and HOT custard (thanks Kax and Goldy!). I'm telling you, food has never tasted this good.

We continued our lunch time music routine with a play-list put together by Ric. We'd heard that he had some good Fleetwood Mac on his phone, but it turned out just to be Rumours.

It's Easter Sunday today, and Gina surprised us all with smartie- filled-chocolate bunnies all round! Gina for President. Flip. What an angel. It's strange not being able to spend Easter with our families, but there's a bit of a family vibe going on here. Some good laughs, the odd niggles, the occasional bit of friction, but ultimately, lots of patience, understanding and everyone looking our for one another.

Anyways, that being said, we all miss our respective everybodies over there on terra-firma. And we wish you all a  happy and blessed Easter!

Capitaõ Lula/Brennan

Silver Linings

Day 15 of the Return Trip

Brennan has found his sense of humour again. It may have been under the floor-boards in the newly cleaned and dried bilges, or (most likely) in the packet of Zoo Biscuits that we opened up yesterday.

Now, we wouldn't bust open a rare treat like Zoo Biscuits without proper occasion. So what could the occasion possibly have been? I'll tell you:

Yesterday we crossed the line of 20W, which is our official half-way to Cape Town mark. As such, we celebrated with a cup of 5 Roses and Zoo Biscuits, accompanied by some good music.

We've noticed that all of the good edible fish that we've caught have been in twos - 2 queen mackerel in Paranagua, 2 dorado the other day, and 2 tuna just recently. It's almost as if the fish think that Ciao Bella is Noah's Ark, and are trying their best to board two-by-two.

Tristan by Easter is looking less likely. At best we'll make it there in time for Monday morning tea. But that's not a problem - we have Gina on the boat, and Gina has foresight. Before the crossing, the clever girl stocked up on Easter eggs, so tomorrow we will be able to have our own Easter egg hunt.

And once Easter is over, we'll be hoping for a bit of South-Wester on which to ride home.

When we talk about life at 35 degrees, we don't mean latitude, but the perpetual angle of heel (tilt) of the boat. I think we're all starting to get used to it, which may be a problem when we step off the boat and are stumbling around on dry land.

Lastly, Uncle Ric's nephew has been named. "Ataru Ray Menino de Carvalho"

to be precise. To Brenda: We are stoked that your boy has a name, and a potentially cool stage name at that, but we are slightly upset that not one of our twelve suggested names featured (our name suggestion was: Higor Vitor José Maia Junior Ernesto Lauro Juan Babysheep Babylamb Obi-Wan Kenobi de Carvalho).

Tomorrow's Easter! Nobody is unstoked about that!

Bren

Part 2

Day 14 of the Return trip

The wind is still on the nose. The cheer of the days past is fading in the face of exhaustion and the prospect of MORE beating. The road to Tristan from here is looking like it will be upwind, if there is any wind.

A sneaky low pressure system developed above us out of nowhere, while the high behind us slipped to the south. Each of these is too big to get around, so we have no choice but to push on through.

Let's hope that tomorrow holds some better news.

Bren

On the Nose Again

Day 13 of the Return Trip

Our pleasure cruise could only last for so long. We had to wake up from that dream yesterday, when the wind swung around and put us on a beat with

25-30 knots from the South-East. It's bumpy, cold, wet and uncomfortable...

HOWEVER,

Being the unflappable optimists that we are, we are not going to discuss this. There have been far more positively memorable happenings in the last little while. So in stead, today, the readers of this blog are going to be treated to Ricardo's recount of the brighter side of Day 13:

"

A wake up to remember

Day 13 mostly just ambled by, slowly the perfect wind of the previous few days swung around and as evening approached we were on a gentle beat.

As with most nights I was taking a pre-night watch nap, resting up to recharge for the evening ahead. Suddenly a very stern shout came from Dave, "Ric!"

This time I was in trouble, I jumped out of bed as quick as possible and my mind raced through the endless possibilities of what was wrong...

I popped my head out the companionway and my eyes immediately fell upon a white-gold tower shooting high into the night sky, as it arced round to the north the immense white glow bloomed into all the colours of the rainbow!

Whoah man, instant euphoria, we could not believe our eyes mother nature had treated us to one of the most rare occurrences in the natural world, a WHITE

(NIGHT) RAINBOW, the moon was full and perfect in the east, the ice-crystals above us refracting in all their glory and the clouds to the west provided the canvass for this beautiful artwork.

The evening went by and non of us could get over what we had seen, spirits on the boat were high as the wind picked up and the gentle beating turned to bouncing around while we made our way to Tristan.

When waking Dave up for the sunrise watch, we were all quick to remind him and Raf to put out the lures. The ocean was consumed by the warm yellows of sunrise when Raf looked back and saw the small hand line going crazy with a big silver splash at the end, "Oke, there is definitely a fish on the small hand line..." Immediately Dave sprung to action and started reeling in our catch a great little 3-4kg tuna. While letting the line back in the water, boom another bite another tuna, this one got half way to the boat before jumping free, but no worries because just as soon as one let go another went for the bait. The early morning kept Dave busy pulling in tuna after tuna, we kept 2 and released what we weren't going to eat.

For lunch we pulled out the soy sauce and wasabi and called upon Dave's sushi chef skills and dinned on the freshest sashimi you could ever ask for. Later in the evening it was my turn to cook the remaining tuna, to be honest I was at a bit of a loss - I haven't really cooked much fresh fish - so I did what any person with a Portuguese Mom would do. I asked myself "What would Mom do?" A pan, olive oil, freshly chopped garlic, a little bit of this a little bit of that and done - delicious pan fried tuna fillets for dinner. We even got Gina to eat a little.

We are now carrying on towards Tristan and wishing you all a very happy Easter.

Love to all

Ric.

Back Down to Earth

Day 12 of the Return Trip

After a few days of splendour, the euphoria on the boat has calmed down a bit.

The breeze dropped off yesterday afternoon and swung around to a very cold Southerly wind. (read: bitterly cold). Shortly after sunset we had to drop our trusty kite, Florence Kite-in-gale, and put up the big #1 genoa. It's a bit slower, but at least now we won't be outrunning the fish.

The night watches were chilly but fairly uneventful. The moon was with us for the whole night last night, and didn't shy away into a shadow like last night. Turns out, we received a message from Raf's Traveena yesterday saying that she hopes we didn't miss the 'blood moon'of the previous night.

Apparently the best places to have seen it from were either South America or some remote position in the South Atlantic. Who'd have thought?

Day 11 meant that our own fresh-food rations were depleted, and we could start busting out the vacuum-sealed wonder-rations that Kax prepared for us before she left (thanks, Kax!). It meant that we could have pancakes for breakfast this morning. The pannekoeke that were made by Gina and yours truly were gobbled up nearly as fast as Vitoria de Carvalho's biscuits (thanks, Vitoria!).

We lost our fire for a while. Literally. Of the four lighters that we had on board, none of them would work. Not so much as a spark, which is all that is required to light the gas-stove. We found a half-box of matches which we counted out to 30. Which would last us 15 days if we lit the stove twice a day - PROVIDED we got it right each time. This was not ideal, as it would mean no tea in between meals, and if anything happened to even a few of the matches, we'd be resorting to induced electrical short-circiuts to get our spark.

LUCKILY I found something that would save the day. A little red Ferarri lighter belonging to our dear friend Andrew Pavitt (Andyyyyyyy!) that I thought may have been lost. So could someone please tell Andy we all say thanks he is a lifesaver. And tell him if he was looking for his lighter, not to worry. Brennan has it.

Just want to give a last shout out to some peeps - Brad, Harrison Ford, Thoris, Jess Rawly and all the friends and family who have been mailing us.

You are all biscuits of the highest order.

Brennan

Dancing in the moonlight

Day 11 of the Return trip

Anything that happened during the daytime yesterday dulls in comparison with the happenings of the night.

It all started as the sun went down on a rare clear-skied day. On the west it disappeared, and at the same moment the moon rose to greet us in the east - like a scale, with one side going down as the other rose. It wasn't just any moon. It was a full and bright moon, which first peeked through a perfect hole in some distant cumulus coulds, but then rose to dominate the entire sky.

The wind was still behind us at about 15-18 knots, and it was to be the first night through which we would keep the spinnaker up. We were making really good ground, enjoying the panoramic view from the top of the mountainous waves, before surfing down the face of them.

The moon was unbelievably bright, and was only dimmed by the occasional micro-weather system that passed over our heads bringing more wind. We latched onto each of these little squalls and Ciao Bella took off. Our motto for last night was: "Tristan by Easter". Our top speed logged last night was 16.7 knots under Dave and Gina, and we also had a few hours runs of 10+ miles (a good couple of those due to Ric D). We are well on our way to a 200 miler now!

We thought that we were lucky to have the full moon with us for the whole night - but there was more!

On our watch at 04:00 (our time), Raf pointed out to me that the moon was no longer full. A big chunk of the thing was missing! We watched over the next few hours as the light of the moon was gradually stolen away by the earth. Who would have guessed that on the clearest night, we would be treated to a FULL LUNAR ECLIPSE!? It was mind-blowing. We got the whole crew up to see it. I even stayed up an hour after my watch ended to see it through.

The best part about it was that, as the moon faded to that soft reddish colour, all the stars came out and took over the sky.

So how was YOUR night last night?

Brennan

Stumbling over mountains

Day 10 of the Return Trip

We are on our tenth day of conquering this mighty ocean, and surmounting all of the challenges that such a passage presents. We are currently: over

1000 nautical miles from Montevideo, where we departed; about 1000 miles from Tristan da Cunha, which is our hopeful stopover; and 2500 miles from Cape Town.

We have made some really good time in the last few days. We are chasing for a 200 miler (200 nautical miles in 24 hours). We are pretty sure that we've hit it at least once, but our chart plotter has bombed out, and our log trip keeps resetting. so we are not 100% sure. One thing that IS for sure though, is that this boat has been rocketing. "full moon, clear skies, surfing the massive waves, Ricardo's epic lunch... hmmm..." reflects Raf.

We have had a taste of some serious South Atlantic rollers. Looking backwards here is equivalent to looking down when climbing a cliff. You just don't. Gina did once while she was driving, and couldn't suppress a little yelp. The waves are big, but also mostly gentle.

We have dealt with a lot of rain in the past few days, but yesterday afternoon, Ric and I saw some strange blue stuff appearing behind the sky.

Today, the sun is out in full force, but it's still a bit windy and rough to hang clothes and mattresses out to dry.

Yesterday was another eventful one. Immediately after sending yesterday's position report and blog post, the *jargon alert* Jib which was poled-out pulled out of the tuff-luff, and while Ric and I were dropping it, the sail split at the foot and ripped the whole tack off the sail. So basically, we wrote off one of our sails.

We replaced it with the storm jib, poled-out with the full main. The breeze had died down to about 25 knots, so it was decided to hoist the small spinnaker and make the most of the down-wind conditions. We put a reef in the main before this, just to be safe.

When the kite was up, we were hit by an unexpected squall with wind in the high 30s. We rode it out for a little while at light-speed, but couldn't prevent *jargon alert* a broach when the pole-downhaul strop snapped. So with the boat on her ear, we scrambled to get this kite doused and packed away. In the flurry of activity, Dave cut open the top of his foot. So with our first broach, we had our first casualty. Casually, Dave cleaned it and patched it up with super-glue and a bandage. All was fine, and we were back to square one, but with an added reef in the main.

The second casualty of the day was the loss of our lucky Golden Rapala fishing lure. The one that has bagged us most of our edible fish. We don't know what happened to it, but reckon it may have been a hungry Wahoo. Pure speculation.

Ja, nee. Aside from that, everyone has had a turn to do some driving and some surfing - with Gina and Raf especially showing some great prowess and composure in the big breeze and big sea.

In the Deep end

Day 9 of the Return Trip

Day 8 was our lightest wind day yet. We managed to get plenty far enough north to escape the brunt of the coming low-pressure system. Around lunch time the breeze died off almost completely, so we took a few minutes to have a swim in the seemingly infinite and impossibly blue water.

Just after Raf, Ric and Dave were taking 'selfies' with Dave's GoPro about 20m from the boat, Dave took a dive under with the goggles to get an underwater pic of Raf. The next thing we all hear is Dave shouting: "Shark!

Shark! Get back to the boat!"

I tried to turn the bobbing boat back in their direction, while the three of them scrambled the short distance which must have seemed like a mile. We were all skeptical of Dave claims to have seen a shark in the middle of the ocean, but it just so happens that in the background of one of Dave's underwater pics of Raf, there it is - a flipping Jonny. Right there.

A few minutes of motoring later, we spotted a turtle, so Dave and I hopped in and swam with it for a bit.

For the rest of the day we motored along at a leisurely pace, with an albatross swooping around us curiously.

On an early morning night watch, Raf noticed some black icky stuff in the bottom of the boat. It was oil which had leaked from the dipstick that I hadn't put back into place correctly. We saw the reult of it when we lifted the floorboards and it was just a mess of black slime. So I spent the better part of the morning (actually the whole morning) on my hands and knees cleaning. The fact that the wind and waves were up, and the Ciao Bella rodeo show was on again didn't help much. But now it is clean.

We have caught 2 Dorado this morning and we intend on having one for lunch and one for dinner. You can't believe what catching a fish does for everyone's spirits. Especially Navidave/Davidaloca/Guardavida/Dave

Moorcroft.

The breeze is cranking up. We have 2 reefs and the #3 jib up, wind on the beam, and it's my turn to drive.

Hope you're all having a cracking weekend back home!

Bren

Soaked!

Day 8 of the Return Trip

Greetings from an entirely wet Ciao Bella!

The past 24 hours have been filled with some very successful sailing, most importantly, in a homeward bound direction. Our day started with a modest 12 knot breeze coming out of the north east, but as the day wore on, the wind built substantially, reaching a rough 25 knots by nightfall. Although good gains were made, it was during the night that things really took off.

As of 10 AM UCT time this morning, our 24 hour run stood at 170 odd nautical miles. Most of this was accomplished a few hours either side of mid night in some solid breeze averaging 25-30 knots. A sizable 3m swell over our starboard quarter allowed for some fun surfing with speeds regularly exceeding 10 knots. Personally I attribute this impressive performance to our lunch and supper intake yesterday - deliciously fresh dorado!

As you would expect, we woke to a rather wet boat and this gloomy overcast day does little to enlighten the prospects of drying anything out. Never the less, the mood is good onboard and we are all chuffed to finally be making some solid ground in a homeward bound direction, even if it means another night of wet clothes.

Thanks to everyone for the messages so far!

Dave

What we signed up for.

Day 7 of the Return trip.

So we have now had 2 days of recuperation. It's been downwind in comfortable wind-speeds and conditions. We have had EVERYTHING out to dry.

From clothes, to matresses, to food-packs, to books. But before we could get complacent, our jacked-up shore crew pointed out that there was another low pressure system headed our way and that we'd do well to avoid it - lest we desired more uphill sailing. So we put in a gybe, working around all the bags and clothes strewn around the deck, and started tracking North-East.

We got back up to 34 degrees South a lot faster than we had anticipated. we are now heading due-east under motor and sail, waiting for some wind to fill in from our port beam.

We have taken off our bear-suits and foulies (a bear suit is like a onesie, but for men), and got the shorts and vests out.

With the possibility of some kak weather coming, this may be the last jovial blog entry for a few days. So we hope you enjoy it.

We had a catch yesterday! Shortly after the gybe, Dave/Navidave/Davidaloca noticed a tug on the  line. When we hauled it in, it turned out that it was Raf's SA Rugby shirt which must have fallen off during the gybe! Our catch-of-the-day of Springbok was disappointing to everyone except Raf.

On the topic of Raf, his levels of honesty are through the roof. He was on his own, dividing biscuits for the night watches, when he found that there was one extra cookie. Raf piped up that he had a problem, where any one of the rest of us would have guzzled that thing quietly and not said a word!

We had a blockage of the heads (lavatory). This was a big problem, but after a lot of toil it was resolved (see what I did there?). There will be no discussion of how the problem was fixed, just be happy that it was. As a result of this scene, all male-type humanoids are sentenced to sole use of the sugarscoop cubicle AKA the men's room henceforth. We couldn't apply this ruling to Gina - we are gentlemen, of course.

We finally had a decent breakfast that wasn't leftover broth from days passd. The calmer conditions facilitated Gina making some delicious french toast with an exciting array of condiments - cinnamon sugar, honey, fresh lime, Black Cat peanut butter (thanks Goldy!), and a HUGE tub of Dulce de Leche from our lovely friend Florencia (gracias Florencia!).

That tub of dulce de leche is probably going to vanish faster than Mrs de Carvalho's biscuits (thanks Vitoria!).

The last thing that everyone should know about, is that last night, Ric got a PK from a flying-fish. His exact words: "Ah! Flying fish to the back!"

Thanks for reading!

Ciao