18.01.09 – pampero

A pampero came in at midnight. 25-35 squally knots with heavy rain, like a southerly buster. The first race boats arrived at 9am, sodden but generally intact. Much chaos as they attempt to pick up the moorings and back into the jetty, with strong beam winds. Shouting, pheromones and good cheer all round. Keels snagged on neighbours’ stern lines, bows blowing off in all directions, much hauling and straining on lines.

We had been told to anchor out to make room for the fleet but we are sitting tight, trying to look insignificant. Getting out and anchoring out are not exciting prospects today. It is very frustrating not to be rushing north in this wind. By time of salida the headwinds will be back.

We’ve just been told that the only yacht to retire from the fleet is the one which was bringing our precious part. We’ve already wasted a week waiting and I am getting a bit fed up. Dave has the patience of Job, bless him. If we can’t get it flown down in the next day or two we will have to go without it. We certainly will not be getting as far north as I had hoped, before you arrive.

 It is twilight and the wind is whistling in the rigging. Martin Simpson and a rum and tang garnish Dave’s spaghetti bol in our cheery cabin. I am missing Chris a bit.

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