Tropic of Cancer

Without celebration we passed 23 deg 26.14 min this morning. It is sunny but wet on deck as we lope south under Yankee alone. The wind is cool, fresh and a remarkably constant 30 knots – I cannot imagine trying to go the other way. In the days of sail I expect they went west across the Atlantic then north around the Azores high before turning easy again.

 Western Sahara is 150 miles away on our left but you wouldn’t know it – the sea here is deepest azure and the air is clean.


We haven’t even trimmed a sail for 2 days. Mr Aries is performing flawlessly and the ocean is empty. 2 terns, a pod of dolphins and nothing else.

Having dealt with an exploded tin of peaches, Ian has been looking for distraction so I sent him down into the huge bin of tinned foods under a settee seat. While Maxine lectured us on the benefits of tarragon lemonade Ian handed up tins for assessment – if they were more than 5 years time expired, out they went. Even Dave’s beloved spam. I hope he forgives us.

I just hate throwing things away. As the Brazilian fruit cocktail (ca 2011) went over the side I imagined the delight with which we might have tucked into that, after a dismal month at sea. We’ll never know. Then to books – Joseph Heller and Gore Vidal met the angry seas. Out they went! Chris would be proud of me.

As Ian said, no wonder sailors took up scrimshaw and knitting. There’s not much else to do.



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