Our progress across the charts, both paper and electronic, continues.
It really is the only evidence that we've moved at all. Some years ago
there was a film called The Truman Show, in which a rather dumb Jim
Carrey character comes to realise that his whole life is a reality-TV
show produced in a vast set and all the people in his life were
actually actors. He tries to escape by sailing away, only to
bump into the wall of the set. Since then they've obviously improved
the set for us by making the water move past the boat so we don't get to
the edge, but apart from that we could be in the same movie. We get
so-amazing-it-has-to-be-fake sunsets and moonrises. We get strange
creatures, squids & flying fish, landing on the deck. We're cut off
from the 'real world' almost completely - the only news we've had for
16 days has been that there was an exciting, tied, rugby match. Is
Brexit going to happen? Is May still PM? Who does the radio 2
breakfast show? No idea to all these; we're just in our bubble, about
5 miles to the horizon, not seen another boat for a week.
However, if we are in 'The Truman Show', the plot is a bit thin. To say
we've got into a routine doesn't really do justice to the word. One
day is almost indistinguishable from the next. The wind is the same,
the sails are in the same place. The sea is ever-changing - but only to
those who claim, like us, that a passage like this is never boring.
Happily for us, there has been no drama to raise the ratings. We're
all getting on well, no raised voice and no sulks (unless, of course,
I'm too obtuse to notice!). Our sailing set-up is pretty settled - for
the last 4 days a complete list of sail actions is:
19/3 am Put up Stingray (still with main)
19/3 pm Took down main
20/3 pm tightened starboard sheet by 2 turns
21/3 pm tightened pole up-haul by 6"
22/3 now midday - no action so far.
335miles to the Marquesas - where we find out if the islands exist or
it's all a big con!