Crew Blog

To Panama on a hope and a prayer

11 May 2008

Day 18 of Race 9 finds Nova Scotia some 300 nm from the Costa Rican port of Golfito and the Banana Bay Marina where we expect to get some Go Juice for the Cast Iron Spinnaker y cervezas for the crew. Considering that we are now down to our last fuel tank, we may arrive there on fumes and a hope and a prayer. Also Chief Paul continues to apply some TLC to the engine in the hopes of coaxing a few more miles out of it, but he seems to be spending an inordinate amount of time with his backside sticking out of the engine compartment draining water out of the pre-filter.

Another recent and more amusing development onboard has been our moustache (pronounced MOOSE-tash on Nova Scotia) growing competition with Skipper Rob and a select number of participating crew members (including women). To call this a “competition” is a bit of a misnomer because in reality we are doing it to support Nick, who has stated from Liverpool that he wants to grow a moustache but Philippa, his fiancée, won’t let him have one. Our support will probably be to no avail therefore because she will most likely frog-march Nick to the nearest mirror on sight!

But the contest goes on, to be judged by the Panama Canal Authority pilot dependent if the pilot is a Carlos (No!) or a Carla (Si!) It seems some of our crew are harbouring dreams of our pilot being Carla: a stunning 30-something Latin American beauty in a tight white blouse (with 4 buttons undone) and matching mini-skirt, attended by an 18-year old trainee vixen. The more realistic among us realise that the pilot is more likely to be Carlos: a 50-something, moustachioed, chain-smoking grump, in a sweat-stained khaki uniform! Fortunately, Clipper is providing us with “pamper packs” for the pilot, which hopefully will contain whisky and cigarettes, these being the usual currency in the shipping world.

As we continue our journey in an east-south-easterly direction, we have now officially entered the Inter-Tropical Convergence Zone (ITCZ) with the arrival of energy-sapping humidity punctuated by enlivening squalls. We experienced two such “playful moments” yesterday. The first - a minor incident where the wind went from 7 knots to 22 knots (which was too much for the sails we had up at the time) in three minutes flat, lasted for twenty minutes then disappeared again - just required some easing of the main and some bearing away. The second more severe squall led to an all-hands call to drop the yankee 1 and reef the main, accomplished by most crew in shorts and T-shirts despite the lashing (but warm) rain. This was made all the more exciting by a lightning strike to the top of the mast.

Your author, standing by the mast at the time, automatically ducked and let go of everything at the crack and so missed the sight of balls of
electricity rushing down the mast, along the boom and past the ears of
Skipper Rob, who had been hanging off the mainsheet only moments before. He seems to have escaped with some ringing in the ears and a thorough bleaching of his hitherto ginger moustache, which must be a good thing.

Mother Board and the Mother of All Mothers
Chris & Paul