Things are hotting up aboard Cheyenne. David Scully reports
Making miles toward the Equator while the sun shines. Layers of discarded clothing litter the deck. The hulls are drying out inside. The contents of the drying locker is returning to sea bags, and the air smells of sun tan lotion.
The last 48 hours have seen us take a significant bite out of the miles to the line, reaching up the Brazilian coast at well over 20 kts. We are working our way west around a pocket of low pressure. Tomorrow, speed will drop off as we slide through a trough extending north of the low, and then we hope to pick up the trades for the trip to the Equator.
The Doldrums are between 2 and 4 degrees south of the line at the moment, and where it would be too lucky to get the same, seamless transit we did on the way south, we hope not to tarry on Neptune’s doorstep for too long.
The real problem awaits us in the North Atlantic. At the moment, the Azores High is well established to the north of the Azores, meaning headwinds for us as we work up toward the finish. The situation still has time to evolve, but at the moment we are facing a grueling finish to this 28,000 mile odessey. The good news is that the weather prog cannot get worse, so by the time we get there, a solution may present itself.
In the absence of cooking gas, the cold frappucino has become the refreshment of choice on board, and they are quite tasty, though requiring a deft hand at stirring. The Mars bars have disappointingly disappeared from the daily ration packs, in deference to the increasing heat, and we are starting to look hungrily at the flying fish, though our garlic supply has long since sprouted green shoots. Young mens’ minds are turning to thoughts of washing, and the foredeck is turning into a bucket bath venue. Beards off, shorts on, and may we find a way through the less windy bits for a fast passage home.