Sailing in the trade winds is a dream come true for sailors. These are the steady winds that blow from east to west near the equator, creating ideal sailing conditions for trade ships for centuries. But for a sailor who promised to write daily updates for this blog, trade winds are not a subject matter that has much variation. The days are mostly the same, with nothing but blue sky and water in sight. It's probably a better experience for Rhona as she's lucky enough to have me all to herself. The only excitement we had yesterday was when the wind shifted twice, forcing us to gybe and change course. And last night, we had to turn on the engine for a few hours as the wind died down completely. I hope you don't mind these reports, but that's the reality of sailing in the trade winds. Maybe tomorrow will bring something more adventurous. Or maybe not. I actually prefer it when it's not exciting, because excitement usually means something is going wrong or about to go wrong. And when things go wrong, they tend to snowball into bigger problems. Like that time we hit a whale and had to patch up a hole in the hull. Or that time we were attacked by pirates and had to fight them off with our bare hands. Or that time we ran out of water and had to drink our own - OK, I made those up, but you get the idea. Sailing in the trade winds is not an entertaining blog subject unless you're naturally gifted at writing. You do get a lot of time to think about things you wouldn't normally consider. A recurring concern I have when we are sailing miles from land is yawning and my mouth getting stuck open. Passage making is more like a long road trip, except you can't stop for gas or snacks. So a perfect trip won't result in any thrilling stories from me and I'll try to do 2 small yawns instead of one big one. And I've expanded slightly on my theme of pictures titled 'sailing in the dark'. This one is called 'sailing in the trade winds at night'.
This is our last full day and night at sea. Tomorrow, we'll be tied up in the marina in Tahiti , and I'll be turning off the engines for the last time. The main and headsail will be dropped and stowed away, and I won't be touching the sheets or halyards again. It feels peculiar to think that Namarie and I have kept each other safe throughout this incredible journey, and in a few days, I'll be on a plane heading home. On this yacht delivery Namarie and I started in the Bay of Biscay and headed south into the Atlantic, getting to know each other along the way. We made a brief stop in the Canary Islands, our last contact with Europe before heading further south and leaving footprints in the red dust of Cape Verde. We left West Africa behind and headed further west across the Atlantic, dodging hurricanes and grabbing fuel and provisions in the southern end of the Caribbean. From there, we pushed onwards through the Caribbean Sea to Panama and the canal. Pretty soon after, ...
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