Day 32 36:32N 7:05W Winds F4-5 160nm

Tomorrow afternoon we will reach our ultimate destination - Gibraltar where we will part company, journey over and hopefuly mission accomplished. I decided that todays blog would be owned by my valued crew members and this is their account of their own journey's:

Louise

"Louise, ten minute warning". Uggh, eyes fly open and then I groan, heave myself out of bed, crawl unsteadily into my foulies and my way up to the cockpit where Jim will fill me in on the latest sail tactics for the 24, 3 or 6 hour watch. Sometimes a bugle call like they did in camp would be nice to wake you up 100% but espresso or our dream-inducing tea work well too - although I haven't been able to sleep properly at all since taking the tea last - had to start counting fish.

The days all seem to merge in together - Chris missed a log entry one day and no one could remember anything about that day except that something funny happened. So I'm just going to give a big old ramble about what's made an impression on me during this Transat trip.

For a prairie girl from Canada just used to sailing lasers on a lake, I'm beginning to love La Mer in all its attitudes: calm as milling glass, rippling with anger as a "storm's a brewin'" and monstrous with heaving
aqua-topped waves during higher winds. I also love how the sea's so
pregnant with tonnes of life: shy (with us) but magnificent whales covering their vast territories, dolphins, the cheerful and fun loving dogs of the sea, seabirds moguling over the waves in search of "hopping" flying fish, floating turtles on solo epic journeys, small but mighty man-o-war jellyfish, their sails bobbing willy-nilly across the huge ocean and schools of teeming fish, one of which has escorted us (and fed us) for days. This huge indomitable school has stayed with us through thick and thin, turning into the wind with us when changing sails, reversing with us as we practiced our man-over-board manoeuvre to save suicidal petrol can and even speeding up with us during higher winds.

Then at night you can see the fish streaming through the water in a luminous wake among the sparkly plankton which get agitated by our wave. You really get to know the night sky well after doing a whole month of night watches, whether or not you're going to have the comforting moon glow or at least Mars' smaller beam on the water and trying to pick out "city" constellations from a deep myriad of smaller or more distant stars.

Other memories I'll have will be of trying to make sense of celestial navigation, repeating French phrases after Michelle Thomas, reading Master and Commander and being glad flogging is on the way out, seeing Spanish Galleon wrecks on Azores charts, appreciating meals as major daily events, watching resourceful boat repair (a soldering operation, Chris completely buried in the engine a few times, reattaching mast cars during huge heaving waves, emptying a sulky head with an improvised pump), seeing surprising culinary creations come out of the galley (pot bread, apple pie and flan), and being amazed that two trolley-fulls of groceries can get ferreted away so well. I'll remember that Jim likes to be very thorough in what he does, have everything really well done, even pancakes and toast.... J And Justin likes to educate everyone with surprise man-overboard manoeuvres late at night. Chris talks like characters in my old Enid Blyton books, "I'm looking for the grottiest rag to change the filter..." or "We can't get any more wind worth a sausage out of that sail...."

I haven't told Chris yet, especially as he was recently congratulating himself on not losing a single crew member at port, that in the dry heaves of seasickness during the first leg to Bermuda I was entertaining thoughts of bailing out on the small island. These thoughts were very brief though and now I'm sad that the trip is almost over as we're sailing past the south of Spain towards Gibraltar. Time to get back to real life as a landlubber yet again.

Jim

Chris wants to get this out ASAP, which is good, because then I don't have to write so much.

This trip was different for me than my two crewmates, as I had already done passages , but just not for so long at a time. For me it was fulfilling part of my "bucket list" something that I have wanted to do for a long while now, and it is done.

There were wonders of the sea to see along the way. Dolphins at least every other day. I even saw some at night, their wake disturbing the phytoplankton, and creating a green luminescence in the water. There were also sea turtles Portugese Man O'War as well as trash seen on a daily basis. We even spotted a couple of bottles with messages in them.

What I will miss most however ,will be sitting in the "chair" during my watches. I was amazed at how thoughts were lucid and freeflowing. There I had the chance to think how my golden years might play out (I have my work cut out) as well as to think about my family and friends that I missed very much along with the most wonderful wife in the world, whom I love dearly.



Justin

The first thing that comes to my mind with the thought of returning to the real world is, 'Will my feet be able to accept going back to hiding in shoes?'. This is the longest my feet have ever gone without being in shoes
and they were happy to have the freedom. They are calloused, dry, and
peeling skin, but they are happy. This trip has also given my mind and soul a similar sense of freedom and contentment. What I had hoped to gain from this trip was a chance to take a break from the real world by going on a short adventure. I have achieved that goal and more. This trip gave me a chance to look at my life backwards and forwards. I looked at where I have been, what I have done, and who I was as well as where I want to go, what I want to do, and who I want to be. I feel a sense of renewed energy to finally embark on job searching to replace the job I lost in April and going back to school for my masters degree.

What I have learned and seen on this trip have been vast and exciting. I
have seen two 'moonbows', leaping squid, dozens of dolphins, fish, and jellyfish, and a number of satellites pass through the night sky. This was the first time I have seen the phosphorescence of plankton in the wake of a boat and it is mesmerizing. We could also see it off of the fish that had
followed us for two days as we approached Spain. The contrails off of the
fish looked like a dim version of the fireworks that stream gold light and whistle as they descend. It was very beautiful. These 'fire-fly' like plankton would change in density from night to night and, because the boat's toilets use sea water, on night's of high density if one turned out the bathroom lights while flushing the head one would see sparkles of light swirling around the bowl.

In the end, my feet are happy, I am happy, and my memories are happy.
_________________________________
Tomorrow the big finish?
Penultimately yours Chris.