Boat Plans Skiff | Barbados 21st December 30th December 2008

Boat Plans Skiff

We were incredibly excited to be in Barbados and as is often the case after a long passage you just don’t know what to do first and so do very little. Ella and Jack thought the colour of the water was everything they’d dreamed of and were quick to jump over the side of the boat into the warm water. They were soon enjoying snorkelling in the clear seas especially as they could even see the anchor and chain 5m below. Swimming has rapidly become our daily exercise and we are usually able to swim ashore from the good ship.

The satellite phone meant that whilst crossing the Atlantic we were able to stay in touch with home both on the phone and email. Because of this we were able to agree a rendezvous with Colm and Rosie albeit the commitment was a bit one-sided because we couldn’t really guarantee we would be there! Nonetheless, they booked up and the news that Gummy and Rosie would be in Barbados on the 22nd December and for Christmas further increased the excitement of landfall.

We arrived in Barbados on the 21st December, so it was after only one night in harbour that we found ourselves on a local Bajan bus on the way to the airport. The bus journey was exhilarating not least because we hadn’t been faster than 7 mph for the previous month. The random way that the door opened as we reached maximum speed and the regular mounting of the curb also added further, unneeded, excitement. The bus fare was the cheapest thing we ever found on the island, no matter how far you travel the price would always be $1.50 Barbados, about 30p. The drivers seem to be in a race to get everywhere and had a healthy disregard for traffic lights or indeed other vehicles. It was our first and last bus journey, not least because Colm and Rosie were staying in the 5 star Hilton and only use public transport in the event of a national emergency.

We latched onto Colm and Rosie in their luxury hotel and were immediately welcomed by the most beautiful reception area with a Victorian decorated Christmas tree, This was the first time any of us realised how close it was to Christmas, having missed out on Christmas shopping and the hustle and bustle this was a welcome reminder (Selma’s words) and made us feel good. The children were delighted by the swimming pools and could not wait to use them, they managed to swim there a few times whilst we were in Barbados and even to have a bath in Colm and Rosie’s hotel room. Jack thought it one of the best things about his stay in Barbados!

For the next week we explored Barbados, something which we had spectacularly failed to do last time we were there. We ate too much and tried everything available, probably in an attempt to make up for the fairly limited diet during the crossing. Pickled green bananas, cou cou - a mixture of cornflour and okra, jug jug, a Christmas speciality made up of various minced meats, pepperpot, a Bajan stew which is rather hot, flying fish, both smoked and grilled, bahi bahi fish, fried chicken and chicken roti, plus the ever popular pickled pigs tails!

The children were not sure if Father Christmas would visit us and as they had no stockings they used their pillow cases, just in case he made it to the GSB. Christmas morning dawned and indeed he had been able to find us, Ella later said that she knew deep down in her heart he would not forget us, but that she had been a little worried as this was the first year she had not written to him! We began our day as usual with the children joining us in bed to open their stockings and then we had a good breakfast on deck in the 30 degrees of heat, and opened our presents. Thank you to everyone who either sent out or gave us presents, it was lovely of you all. We also found four bags full of goodies for each of us on deck when we came up for breakfast. The note said from Santa but Derek on Hunros knows better; thanks Derek, much appreciated. Colm and Rosie joined us on board at noon for Brimble snacks, cocktails and further exchanges of gifts including from Colm and Rosie our very own Christmas tree with lights! The children were delighted. John, Colm and the children took the dinghy and snorkelled over a wreck not so far away from where we were anchored. Rosie and Selma carried on drinking. Christmas dinner was a BBQ on the beach, all was excellent until about 5pm when the heavens opened up and we were poured on. The only thing I can say was it was warm rain, but it did bring proceedings to a slightly premature close.

Obviously being at anchor means that the dinghy is in constant use as a car is at home to ferry us all around. Barbados is notorious for a big swell onto the beach and both getting onto the beach and away from it can be interesting. Colm and Rosie managed with much style and did not even get wet, the same cannot be said for the Halsall’s. Late on Boxing Day after we had spent a fantastic day at the horse races, a Baja

n tradition, we ended up at the Hilton for a dinner extravaganza, accompanied by piano player and singer. Then, somewhat worse for wear, (well Selma was), we had a direct hit and were entirely wiped out. With two adults it would have been pretty funny but watching the kids fly into the air, out of the dinghy and into the surf was less fun and the children were a tad nervous for a few days after.

Colm and Rosie left us after our last sight seeing tour which had to be the Mount Gay Rum Factory and we cleared out of Barbados and were now bound for Bequia, one of our favourite stops last time in the Caribbean. We left on 30th December for the ninety mile over night sail with the aim of spending New Year’s Eve with the crew from Starblazer.

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Boat Plans And Patterns | The Grenadines 31st December 28th January 2009

Boat Plans And Patterns

We left Barbados at noon on the 30th December, the intention being to spend New Year in Bequia in the Grenadines. After 10 days in one place and after so much moving in the previous month we were all ready for the little voyage of 100 miles or so. Having just read about 24 days of tradewind sailing we will not bore you with another 24 hour account. Suffice it to say that the weather was largely fine, the stars absolutely magnificent and the paassage fairly fast despite a strangely adverse current for the early part of the trip. As intended we arrived in sight of the north coast of Bequia at dawn and sailed up to the island through the morning. An otherwise peaceful trip was spiced up, for Selma at least, by a real cracker of a wind and rain squall which sneaked up and whacked us as we sailed between the islands of St Vincent and Bequia. No harm done but a bit of excitement and some fresh water.

We anchored off the capital Port Elizabeth in Admiralty Bay at 1100 in about 4.6 metres. Admiralty Bay is a massive natural harbour that runs east-west becoming narrower as you reach the eastern end. This means that as you sail further into the bay you become increasingly sheltered from both the predominant ENE trades as well as the significant swell that they inevitably create. Not only does the bay provide great shelter but it’s also a really quite beautiful natural harbour. A sort of Caribbean version of Newton Ferrers. Hills look down on the bay which are covered with thick woods running down to the sandy beach that lines the majority of the sea shore; the shallow water of under 10 metres ensures the presence of the turquoise sea which nicely finishes the picture off . Snugged up right at the end of the bay is Port Elizabeth, a large town by Grenadines standards, made up of a handful of bars, supermarkets and restaurants with even a chandlery.

We dropped anchor, dug in, tidied up and Jack and I went ashore to clear Customs and Immigration which is a real magical Caribbean experience. The people in the West Indies are on the whole incredibly friendly. The only time we have dealt with an angry local was in Bridgetown; we were rushing to buy some food for Christmas Day and a local man shouted at the top of his voice ‘hey mon, slow down, you makin’ de locals nervous’. Other than this everyone has been incredibly friendly. The possible exception are the Customs and Immigration officials. This special race of West Indians (Barbados excluded) are not exactly unfriendly just incredibly officious and this coupled with a paperwork process which would have Holger in tears creates a memorable experience. Carbon paper flies around like no tomorrow, passports and forms are enthusiastically and apparently randomly stamped, initialled and then stamped again and to complete the excitement the clearance forms include a series of trick questions. When we hand ours over I await the disdainful look as the official rings, crosses and underlines the mistakes that I inevitably make; what you mustn‘t do at this stage is argue, frown, challenge or in anyway question the usefulness or clarity of the form but look pained and concerned at your own stupidity - I do this well and Jack is now able to look at me as if amazed that he has been spawned by a man of such limited intelligence. One thing that does make me feel marginally better is that you invariably see numerous forms in the ‘processed’ pile which have exactly the same mistakes! All data provided in triplicate is subsequently recorded in magnificent ‘Dickensian’ leather bound ledgers, this ensures that no information will ever be lost but equally that it will never be found! Once the rules are understood the process is relatively straightforward and usually lightly entertaining such that when time is not against you the whole experience is just that, an experience. This is not the case when youre on holiday and time matters, when this is the case tempers can fray providing even more entertainment for those lucky ones amongst us who are not against the clock. The American who shouted ’I know it’s your lunch break but just give me the god dam forms’ is probably still waiting.

New Years Eve was great fun for all bar Jack who had a bit of a cold and a temperature of 104. He made it to the beach but laid off the rum punch because it wouldn’t have mixed well with the Calpol. Despite Jack being poorly, we had a great barbecue with some now good friends, Jim, Jo, Josie and Clemmie (The Blazers) who we met first in Porto Santo. Jack and Selma went back to the GSB at about 8 00pm whilst Ella and I stayed on the beach for just a little longer with Jim, Jo and family … this was a mistake. The intervening hours were spent drinking rum punch and playing a variety of violent contact sports including British Bulldog, Sharky Sharky and a violent form of Stuck in the Mud. My recollection of most of the evening beyond this point is somewhat blurred; Ella said we spent a long time going round in circles on our way back to the boat and was apparently worried as to whether we would ever get there; this statement has not been corroborated, but Selma did say I kept falling over as I walked along the deck just before midnight. I also, sadly missed the fireworks display which Selma and the kids enjoyed looking out of the forepeak hatch, whilst standing on top of me asleep on the bunk below.

We stayed in Bequia for 6 days in truth not doing too much other than swimming and a bit of exploring ashore and generally enjoying ourselves. On the 6th of January we sailed 16 miles down to Canouan. En route we caught our first Barracuda - these are the hunters of the Caribbean and have the teeth to prove it. They sometimes attack swimmers when seriously annoyed and this one definitely looked upset. Selma and I discussed how we could humanely kill it without losing a finger and decided that this was almost impossible so we did the inhumane thing and towed it behind the boat until it was really quiet and then chopped it‘s head off. The lucky chap was BBQd that night. The anchorage at Canouan is largely taken up by mooring bouys which are available at a price and generate their own business by limiting safe places to anchor. This said we managed to find a spot to anchor but were warned by the local Boat Boy that we would need to move if he filled the moorings up - we were fairly relaxed about this as there were tens of moorings and virtually no boats! Apart from the routine but still delicious process of diving down to check the anchor is well set, the inevitable chicken/fish BBQ on the beach and plenty of swimming, our stay in Canouan was very typical of stops in most of the islands. Ashore, Canouan is much more like the Caribbean was when we were here last. Goats, dogs and the odd pig roaming around the place, most people in bare feet, loads of rubbish scattered everywhere and really friendly people. Canouan will be particularly remembered by Selma and I as the place we encountered the masturbating man. As we walked up the main (only) road, Selma said ‘I think that mans having a ****. I looked across and whilst I cannot absolutely confirm or deny the physiological process, if he wasn’t actually doing it he was giving a bloody good impersonation. Either way we beat a hasty retreat just in case he made eye contact and wanted to shake hands with us. At Canouan Jack and I continued our quest to get our hair cut. This had started in Barbados where it became apparent that Barbers, even more so than in the UK, are the social centre of the community. This means that the average queue for a quick trim is a couple of hours which is not surprising because a quick trim takes about the same time. In Canouan we did find a barbershop that was empty but the reason was that the music being played was so loud that it would have made your ears bleed if you had gone into the shop. We never found out whether the barber was stone deaf or just really cool (but shortly to become stone deaf) because the safety zone was several hundred meters from the front of the shop.

A day or so later we were ready to move again and made another short hop to Salt Whistle bay in Mayreau, an anchorage which is the archetypal Caribbean. Pinky white beach, crystal clear sea, and the odd palm tree … look at the photo below which does not do it justice! As it happened the anchorage which although quite spectacular is not well protected was quite rolly and busy so we moved onto another classic Grenadines spot, the Tobago Cays.

Tobago Cays are a National Park comprising of five tiny islands and an immense horseshoe reef. As you lie at anchor you face straight out into the Atlantic. With no land between you and Africa massive waves breaks just a few metres away on the reef producing a constant din as monster waves are reduced to no more than you would find on a calm day in the Solent. The snorkelling was quite spectacular and we had the delightful experience of swimming for half an hour or so with 3 or 4 Hawksbill turtles, an endangered species; adults and children were suitably spell bound. Later on the same day Ella and I were swimming round the boat and came across a large Eagle Ray (type of stingray) with perhaps a 2 m wing span snuffling away just below us looking for shell fish on the sea bed … quite amazing. After a memorable day in the Cays we moved further south to Union Island where we anchored in the capital Clifton.

As with most of the southern Caribbean as you approach any harbour you are greeted by any number of Boat Boys selling moorings, diesel, water, bread, advice on how to anchor, a taxi service, trash disposal, fish, lobster, barbecues … in fact anything you want. The boats they speed round in are home built, have substantial outboard motors and invariably flamboyant names: De Black Knight, De Fresh Prince, Knight Rider, Bay Watch, Destiny, No Problemo, Desperado, Kamakaze and Jacks favourite … the somewhat mundane Caribbean Diesel.

My personal favourite is undoubtedly ‘Phat Shag’ from Bequia; whether this boat is named in tribute to the owners wife or girlfriend or is a somewhat confusing colloquialism remains so far a mystery to us because the boat has always been anchored in the bay and haven‘t been able to ask, but we are ever watchful. We will update you should an explanation be forthcoming …

After we victualled in Clifton we rendezvoused with The Blazers and agreed to move round the island to Frigate Bay. We knew we would split up shortly as they headed south and we north so agreed to sail together for a week or two, so the kids would have company; it was not so hard for the adults either.

The weather over this period although lovely and warm had been very windy and squally with winds typically between 20 and 30 knots and up to 40 knots in the squalls. This meant that even the best protected anchorages were rolly and when we went ashore you invariably arrived soaked to the skin - not a big deal when it’s so hot but a bit frustrating if you’ve used valuable fresh water on a shower or on the way back to the boat in the evening. We hoped that Frigate Bay would provide slightly more shelter and would also be a little quieter than the busy anchorages we had visited so far in the Caribbean - this proved to be true on both counts. There were only 4 of us in the anchorage which was well sheltered by the remains of a sea wall that had been built when a marina was planned in the bay but which had then been abandoned when the Company went bankrupt. The wall, coupled with a natural reef upwind acted as a natural trap for all sorts of interesting debris with vast numbers of conch shells and a variety of natural and man made debris. Our usual beachside BBQ was finished with a great fire as we worked our way through the many piles of driftwood and rubbish. Ashore from Frigate Bay was a lovely village called Ashton which being off the beaten path was inhabited with just the local people who had no great interest in tourism or removing money from yachties.

Frigate Bay was a lovely spot and thought unbeatable until we sailed a mile or so round the coast to another bay called Chatham. As we entered Chatham Bay (only very loosely connected with Chatham, England, Alison) we were greeted by Sekie and Vanessa inviting us to a BBQ at their place, then Shark Attack invited us to a barbeque at his ‘shack’ and so it went on. The great thing with these guys is they tell you what the deal is and then go; there’s no pushiness or hard sell probably because this is the Caribbean and anything resembling hard work is avoided at all cost even if required for business survival.

In Chatham we anchored next to Tyche, a lovely steel sloop, owned by Robin and Sita with their two children. For a moment we thought our record for the smallest boat was broken but subtle enquiries revealed that Tyche was a grand 31 ft. Our small boat status has proved useful in many ways so far - lobster prices are reduced, water has been given free and other yachties seem to know us even when we don’t know them presumably because they have discussed the mad family on the tiny boat. This can be very confusing for me as I desperately try and remember people who come up to talk to us that I have never met!

The Brimblettes, Blazers and Tyches BBQ’d on the beach and then Jim and I went to test out the local bars. Sekie’s was the only one open, primarily, because Sekie and his partner sleep on the beach so as they put it ’as they’re there they may as well be open‘. Both Sekie and Vanessa were sober but were seriously relaxed from chain smoking the local grass; further investigation revealed that they like to light up at breakfast and then chain smoke through the day until bedtime; this seemed to be the Chatham way of living and perhaps explains in part why ‘hard sell’ is not part of their vocabulary … ‘what’s de point mon’. Jim and I had a pleasant evening drinking beer and rum and inhaling the residue of Sekie and Vanessa’s smoke and generally putting the world to right which we did or would have done if we had the faintest idea what was going on in the world outside Chatham Bay. Notwithstanding their apparent calm I did hear two fisherman having a brief argument about where they could land their catch which culminated in the classic retort by one of them ’get your own f***ing island mon’; what a great line. Chatham Bay can also claim to be the place where I nearly lost Selma and the family. Hanging out on the beach was Alvin of no fixed abode; Alvin was a muscular and fairly hairy 6ft 3”and was the Chatham Bay gigolo. As luck would have it he took a bit of a shine to Selma and after a brief courtship proposed to Selma by saying ‘don’t take dis de wrong way, but I want to throw me cards your way’. Selma, beat a hasty retreat but Alvin was not easily deterred and decided to try to befriend the children in the hope presumably that the mother would follow; it was only at this stage that I discovered the truth and having carefully considered the risk to myself of defending the family honour told Selma and the kids to go off with their new dad; they unfortunately refused but by this point Alvin had gone off for a quick nap. I therefore allowed the family back to the GSB. It transpired that Alvin’s attention had not been entirely genuine because in the gaps between chatting Selma up he had been making a move on a number of other female yachties.

We enjoyed Chatham Bay enormously and so far it is our favourite spot but even so we moved on after a couple of days to two tiny islands called Petit St Vincent and Petit Martinique. These were memorable from our lat trip because it was here we rendezvoused with Chris and Viv on Gypsy Madonna. The islands were reputed to have the cheapest fuel, water and beer around but it transpired that this was a myth and so after a quick night stop we moved on to a new country in the shape of Carriacou.

We anchored in Hillsborough, the capital town and because Carriacou is part of Grenada we had to clear customs and immigration. During this process I made the mistake of honesty having said we stopped at Petit Martinique (also part of Grenada but not a port of clearance) something the pilot says is acceptable to do. The enthusiastic Immigration Officer then advised us that we had entered the country illegally and showed us the law book that proves it - for a second I thought we were going to be deported again but after a while he lost interest, wished us a good day and off we went.

At Hillsborough we enjoyed our last few days with The Blazers as well as meeting up with Derek and Sue on Hunros who we had last seen in Barbados.

On the 24th January we turned northwards for the first time since leaving the UK and in some ways started the journey home. We briefly stopped in Union Island and Mayreau before returning to Bequia where we are currently writing this update. Next stop St Vincent, the capital of the Grenadines and then Northwards.

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Boden Boat Plans Australia | Winter work and refurbishment December 2012 May 2013

Boden Boat Plans Australia

Winter work and refurbishment (December 2012  May 2013)

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Boat Plans Wood | Transatlantic 26th November 21st December 2008

Boat Plans Wood

On Wednesday 26th November the time had come to leave Tenerife. All possible excuses for delays had been used up, the weather forecast was acceptable and if we didn‘t crack on then we would struggle to make Barbados for Christmas. Departure (D) day had arrived. The GSB was pretty much sorted and ready to go but provisioning was still to be completed. This meant working out every meal we would eat while we were at sea and even more critically the amount of water we would drink and use for cooking during the passage . No mistakes could be made on either count. Obviously our estimated passage time was a critical part of the sum; we had initially provisioned for 25 days but were struggling to come up with an estimate we had confidence in. With the exception of a very pleasant, but clearly mad, Swedish student we hadn’t come across a smaller boat than us (you were right Charlotte) and so as ’D’ Day loomed we ended up increasing our passage planning time to 29 days.

The extra few days may not seem significant but we were so tight for space and weight that every day we planned to be at sea made a massive difference to provisioning. To paint a bit of a picture; our total ships water storage is 80 litres. If just Selma and I had a cup of tea every change of watch for 25 days we would use over half of the ships total storage. If you then added 1.5 litres for cooking each day we would run out of tanked water before 25 days was up, let alone 29 days and all we would have drunk is tea and done the cooking.

In the end we allowed and stowed 1.5 litres per adult per day (1 litre per child) of drinking water, 1.5 litres total per day for cooking, 1 glass of juice per person per day and no allowance for washing us or anything else. Buying fresh fruit and vegetables is another balancing act as you make your best guess on how much you need as well as which vegetables will last longest. The market holder in Santa Cruz was incredibly helpful, using many years of expertise to advise us on which fruit and vegetables would last longest and how they could be stopped from prematurely ripening. Of course he was pretty much wrong about everything but at the time it gave us a nice warm feeling that we would have lots of fresh food for a good part of the crossing. This said I can strongly recommend his onions which have lasted forever and rather luckily so, because I misheard Selma’s instructions and bought four times as many as we needed!

The whole provisioning process was a challenge not so much because of the sums but because of the consequences of getting it wrong which at best would be very embarrassing and at worst was best not thinking about. Our next door neighbour in Santa Cruz had run out of water on a trip some years ago and had nearly died … this helped focus our already very focused minds. On our arrival in Barbados we heard of two yachts so far this year who ran out of food and water and had to issue Maydays! Anyway we worked our way through the process and stuffed Brimble with food, water and other essentials such that by departure time the Top Water Line was well under water. In fact we were so low in the water that for the first 2 weeks of the trip the cockpit was so close to the water level that every time the boat healed the cockpit filled up with water - still, kept our feet cool.

The passage to the Caribbean is a little strange in as much as you don’t sail straight to Barbados but head south until you pick up the easterly Tradewinds and then sail east or to put it another way, you sail south until the butter melts and hang a right! Estimated distance, taking the recognised roundabout route, is c. 2800 miles.

So, finally at 1230hrs GMT on Wednesday 26th November, the GSB departed Santa Cruz. As we left the marina we motored past some Northern Irish friends on their boat, Wendreda, a 38ft Nicholson. Jim, Sharon and their 4 children; Michelle, James, Peter and Martin had been the only serious challenge on the trip so far to Brimble’s unbeaten record for the lowest surface area per person. Jack was on the foredeck shouting to his mates at the top of his voice … see you in Barbados in a month, see you soon, see you in the Caribbean. Have a good trip, see you soon, see you there they all cried back. The fact that they weren’t leaving for another 2 months and it was improbable that we would see each other again didn’t seem to matter, we all clapped and cheered as we headed off on our own to cross the Atlantic.

The 60 miles or so along the east coast of Tenerife was a bit miserable. My recollection of last time we did the trip was the same. The combination of strong winds, the notorious acceleration zones, the grey feeling you get initially from leaving friends and land and security behind for a long time, the fact that you’re risking your children’s life on a bit of a whim (or so you think for a short while) all coupled with a spot of sea sickness and a touch of self pity all make the first 24 hours a little bit bleak. This said and not far beneath the surface is the relief that finally after days of contemplation and consideration we were finally off: anything forgotten now would have to be done without. No more working out the number of water bottles or cans of beans or the various illnesses that could strike us down and associated remedies, no more weather predictions or engine servicing, rigging checks and navigational sums …. just a straightforward task to do; sail safely 2800 miles across the Atlantic to a beach in Barbados.

We left the marina and a few minutes later unfurled the headsail in a freshening north easterly wind. As the large genoa unfurled with a healthy smack it also fell down … sadly the genoa halyard had been undone whilst in port so that a washing line could be tied off to the cleat and had failed to be made fast again - good start, well, not bad, I blame the skipper… so much for all the checking … but we were still off!

It would be tiresome to relate the nitty gritty details of the whole passage; it is simply a long way and takes a long time. Some people describe it as 95% boredom and 5% blind terror which I think is not far from the truth. For the first week you try and blank your mind to the magnitude of the task ahead, it’s just too difficult to imagine being in a twenty eight foot boat , with two children, in the middle of nowhere for 4 weeks, so you embrace the routine and close your mind to the number of days that must pass before you tread on dry land. We had a few challenges over the first couple of days over and above the inevitable bouts of mild seasickness. Ella and I had caught some stomach bug which hit us a couple of days out. At home it would have been no big deal but on board you of course allow your imagination to run wild not least due to the limitations of water for drinking and washing. But, as is usually the case our unmentioned fears came to nothing and after a few days of fasting (good for stores) stomachs settled and we gradually got into the swing of things.

Selma and I continued with our 3 hrs on 3 hrs off watch pattern adopting the now officially recognised ‘Flint’ modification to ensure a full 3 hours sleep each time. We soon found that we were coping pretty well on about 6 hours sleep. After tummies had settled Jack took it upon himself to start eating twice his body weight in food. Up until now Jack has had a very modest appetite, that was of course until the time when food was a premium. We can only assume that he had some sort of ill timed growth spurt but my attempts to dish out the ‘allowed for’ modest child size portions of food to him were met with derision as his new passion for food, any food, kicked into overdrive … bloody good timing I grumbled at every meal time.

During the first week we had pretty good winds hardly using the engine at all. We typically sailed goose winged (one sail out each side) with a poled out genoa and a main and preventer. Speed was modest for the first couple of days and then gradually picked up so we were quite often averaging over 5 knots over the ground.

School started on day 3 despite vigorous protestations from the children. I would teach (well, a form of teaching) from 10 to 12 each morning and then Selma would teach from 1230 to 1500 ish. This routine worked well. I quite enjoyed the children clambering into the cockpit wearing a pair of shorts and a life line, the boat rolling all over the place as they said in unison: ‘Good Morning Mr Halsall’ ; ‘Good Morning children’ I would say, ‘now turn to page 1 of your whiteboards ….’

It’s probably worth a few lines on the motion of the boat at this point. On this passage, the wind is almost always aft of the beam (behind you). This is great for speed and dryness but does create a quite spectacular rolling motion. On GSB it meant that the boat rolled literally from beam to beam. First so that one side of the boat was under water, she then picked up 10 or 20 gallons of water and as she rolled back the other way, transferred them round the outside of the cockpit and fired them over the other side as the boat, now with the other gunwhale underwater, dipped into the sea ready to reload for the next roll. This process repeated itself about every 10 to 15 seconds. Amazingly, most of the water did stay out of the cockpit but occasionally a wave would break and catch Minnie the Monitor (self steering gear) and the GSB out and we would enjoy a refreshing dollop. After a few of these we decided that we must formally name waves and came up with the following:

Snorkellor - a wave that charges at you with the sound of a snorkel being discharged. You think they will soak you but a true Snorkellor will not enter the cockpit - these were very common. A night snorkellor tends to be less pleasant because you can’t see it and therefore can’t predict whether it will be a Snorkellor or a Licker (see next)
Licker - wave that sounds like a Snorkellor but which surprisingly enters the cockpit and ‘licks’ one or more of the crew. These were fairly common particularly when the sea was more on the beam, maybe one or two an hour when the wind was over 20 knots.
Hammerhead - a wave that hit’s the side of the boat like a hammer - again, pretty common
Rainbow - a wave that passes over the top of the cockpit without getting anybody wet - perhaps unsurprisingly we have yet to have one of these.

Jack identified and defined a further twenty or so wave types but they had such complicated characteristics that we were never able to match a name to a wave. I too had a few terms that I used for the odd wave but you can probably work them out for yourself.

The motion of the boat made cooking an entertaining challenge. Selma who made breakfast and lunch occasionally threw cereal across the boat and when the mood took her she would throw herself around as well. On one particular occasion she fell quite badly and was lucky not to break anything but I checked all round the area she had fallen and could find no damage; Selma though was quite badly bruised. Meanwhile, I threw everything everywhere and spent the rest of my free time putting it back. The kids were really good and the sight of Jack staggering to the heads at three in the morning like an old drunk will be one of my clear memories of the passage. We assume the fact that we fell over more than the children is because of their lower centre of gravity - the physics of this remain unproven.

By the second week sickness had returned to the Good Ship with Selma having been hurt by her fall made worse by the return of some historic back trouble and Ella was suffering from lack of sleep and a touch of cystitis. Ella was struggling to get to sleep with the severe rolling of the boat coupled with the hot weather. Jack, not wanting to be out done, lost a tooth and then challenged the tooth fairy to find him and it. The ability of that fairy astounded us all when it exchanged an extravagant 5 Barbados Dollars the next night.

On the 5th December we caught our first Tuna which was thrown back because we’d just had supper but made up for this by catching another the next day. It was eaten within 40 minutes including cooking time having had it’s head chopped off by Jack. Ella was a bit put off by the cleaning process, not helped by Jack making unhelpful observations, such as ‘see that Ella, see that coming out of there, that’s pooh’. A few days later we lost our only lure so fishing came to a premature end, much to Ella’s unconcealed delight.

Flying fish appeared at about this time and we also saw whales and dolphins, not quite in the numbers along the Portuguese coast but nonetheless great company.

Our first milestone, the Halsall Halfway Celebration was achieved on the 11th December. In fact at this stage we were well over halfway but a line was on the chart from the last trip and we stuck with it. Making the halfway point was marked by a Brimble Bank Holiday; school was cancelled, we all had a wash, extra half melted chocolate was dished up and a theatrical show(with popcorn) was put on for the children by the Parents - Flash Gordon and by the children for the adults - called ‘Colours’.

As we sailed eastwards towards the sun, changing the clocks every 5 days or so, the weather grew warmer and warmer such that even I was completing my night watch in shorts and tee shirts. Nightwatches were filled dodging flying fish, star gazing and occasionally madly reefing down in spectacular lightning and thunder storms. The routine of the day was firmly set too; we were not exceeding our water and food allowances, passage time look set for under the 29 days and life became really quite enjoyable. All in all, as the weeks rolled by, the passage became the norm and life ashore the exception - we speculated about our arrival in Barbados but having blanked it for so long it was difficult to bring it to the front of our minds; Ella said she didn’t think ‘we would ever arrive’.

However, she was wrong and at 0730 in the morning on the 21st of December we motored into Bridgetown Harbour to clear Customs. The welcome was delightful with Lawrence the Harbour Master coming out to take our ropes and welcoming us to the Caribbean, but despite his helping hands we were unable to moor up. The combination of a harbour wall designed entirely for cruise ships (we were trying to moor next to a cruise ship called The World) and a significant swell running into the harbour made coming alongside for our somewhat diminutive craft entirely unsafe. At any moment we thought we would take the rigging off and be dismasted or smash the side of the boat against one of the enormous steel piles as we desperately fended off. But help was at hand. Snuggling, quietly in the bottom of the cockpit locker, waiting for our moment of need was … Uber Fender - a giant inflatable fender that as Alasdair (fellow owner of an Uber F) pointed out cost as much as most peoples dinghies. With the exception of Norway, Uber, had not been needed, but now was the time and when inflated and safely wedged between us and the offending wall, saved the day. Selma and Ella left to clear customs and immigration whilst I stayed with Jack to mind the boat.

An hour or so later we were safely anchored in Carlisle bay, 100 metres off a pristine beach of white sand in water so clear that you could clearly see the anchor snugged into the sandy bottom, a turtle popped up and casually nodded at us as we jumped into the tropical, turquoise water.

After 24 days sailing and over 2800 miles at sea in our 28 foot, 37 year old yacht, we had arrived. It felt really, really, good.

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