I haven’t felt so un-sealegged for a very long time. The forestay incident and a recurring problem with the Aries vane have shaken my faith in all notions of permanence. They, like other recent events, are salutary reminders of the rashness of the assumptions we make. Mal de mer doesn’t help, of course. Everything seems so fucking fragile – here today gone tomorrow. I am weary of decision-making. I’d like to sit quietly and read a book, safe in the knowledge that there will be no unexpected wind shifts, no sudden drops in oil pressure, no loud bangs in the night. This has been an arduous trip. We’ve been at it a week now, and there’s another to go.
Ian has been a tower of strength – cooking, fussing, cleaning, making cups of tea. I don’t trust him on the foredeck, at the helm or in the engine room, but what a gem of a crewman. What a sensitive, splendid, tireless fellow.