It is a sunny morning. The netting over the saloon table (and over Dave’s comatose body) is pregnant with papayas, mangos, pineapples, melons, apples and limes. Food groups are getting much attention. Do hops and malt count as vegetables?
An old Flagstad/Svanholm Act 2 of Walkure has found its way into our little nutshell here. Siegmund is asking what Valhalla is like, and whether he will see Sieglinde there. Brunhilde says no, and he says well you can stuff Valhalla up your arse because I’m not going there. It is making me a bit weepy, I have to say. I wouldn’t mind a calm anchorage and some gorgeous company to listen with.
This is really the first good sail we have had since the Southern Ocean. I had forgotten the pleasure of working 18 tons of boat into speed and keeping her there. Tainui is really dancing across the seas and I feel very affectionate towards her. We are 22 miles from the equator, off the mouth of the Amazon. For 4 days we have been basking in the pleasure of a joyous reach in cool, dry conditions. In this breeze it is another 4 days to French Guyana, and 800 miles from there to Trinidad. I allow 120 miles per day in calculations.