Author: maddieisoutoftheoffice

I recently made a short visit back to the UK, purportedly to see friends, but largely because I didn’t want to miss out on all the Christmassy fun which goes on at this time of the year – or earlier and earlier in the year if you listen to the bah humbugs.  Fun fact: There was a Bar Humbug in Bristol the entire time I was at university, which we frequented for cocktails, and I always thought it was named after the sweetie….. blame the cocktails.

They are trying here, since November the shops have been full of faux Christmas trees and many, many decorations; it seems that you’re expected to set up an entire Snow Pole scene in your home, perhaps to offset the pools and palm trees outside.  And the longer they are in the stores the more I find myself wondering why I haven’t ever wanted a life size illuminated reindeer for the bargainous price of €179.  They have also decorated the complex in which I live, a set of flashing Christmas trees appeared outside my apartment late November, slightly incongruous with the sea view seen through said trees.  Christmas tunes as background music when sunbathing is also a particularly strange experience.

Christmas cards don’t seem to be a done thing, so I had to buy mine in Waitrose (yes, we have a Waitrose, it resides within Iceland…. agreed, unexpected), nor do they seem to relish in the childish joy of Christmas fayres – fairground rides, cheesy Christmas tunes, woolly accessories – with added adult fun of mead and steins!  I hope you have all been many, many times in my absence; can’t let those fabulous Christmas jumpers go to mothballs.

Having located the fancy dress area of China Town I’m keeping my eyes peeled for kitten sized fancy dress, how better to welcome my new little one into the world of Maddie than a festive photograph?  Perhaps I’ll just sit her in a box of baubles.

In the meantime whilst it’s been fantastic to experience the build up to Christmas without sleet, sludge, delayed trains and that wet jumper smell, I very much enjoyed popping back briefly to frolick dressed as an elf weilding mead, it was pretty nippy though!  And though I’m missing out on the Christmas parties – albeit universally acknowledged that the City parties have passed through great and good – I have fabulous memories of Christmases past to muse whilst I sip cava on my terrace, with festive tunes from the expats all around me.

And I have bought an illuminated reindeer.

How to make tuna tartare at sea.  If you aren’t at sea please go to your local fish counter and then skip to step 5…..

Step 1
– Ensure you are sufficiently far from land or fishing boats and put out approximately three boat lengths of line, utilising preferred tuna lure if it hasn’t been stolen, and worry not if you only have a small rod and broken net, determination is key here.  Keep watch whilst other crew are asleep, especially for auto helm dropping and boat pirouetting which could get the line caught around your keel or in the engine propellor.  The latter is Very Bad and can’t be fixed with a simple reverse pirouette.

Step 2
– When reel clicks repeatedly, stop the boat, and shout “Fish! Fish!” down the companionway.  Fellow crew should appear shortly with large plastic bucket, oven dish, kitchen knife and life jacket – should the need arise for hanging off back of yacht.  At this time someone may also put boat dog in the forepeak shower; boat dog knows the reel clicking means TUNA, and he is not helpful.

Step 3
– Catch fish!  This step may take some time if the fish puts up a fight.  If not already done, move fenders to allow access to pushpit.  Once fish is near the surface climb down to water level with large plastic bucket, if fish is very large kitchen knife can be strapped to boat hook with duct tape to use as spear.  Fish can then be manouvered by hand into laundry bucket.  Determine whether of sufficient size and form for capture or release, and if keeping behead asap.  Beware: Fish may flap around a bit for the next ten minutes or so.  Ghastly.

Step 4
– Gut fish.  Ask someone who has done this before.

Step 5
– Take sufficient raw tuna (on the boat this was half a small tuna per person), remove skin and bone, then chop very, very finely.  As finely as you can chop an onion.  This will take a long time.  Add half a red onion finely chopped, and the equivalent to a quarter of a red onion pile of capers finely chopped.  Beware: Capers are likely to make a break for it as the boat lurches.  Fold together with a lashing of good olive oil, and chop some more.  Think you’re done?  Chop more.

Step 6
– Add pinch of salt, pepper and juice of a lemon, and pack tightly into a flat dish.  Clingfilm over the top and refrigerate for ten to fifteen minutes.  If preparing early add lemon juice just before serving, then pop back in the fridge for ten to fifteen minutes.

Step 7
– Serve with wasabi paste or dijon mustard, as preferred. Fresh bread optional and dependent on distance from land.  Be prepared to share with passing finches.

As I rounded a corner on my run this morning I caught a glimpse of the marina I now call home, and thought how close it was; a moment later I mused that in fact it was still three kilometres away.  Which actually isn’t all that close.  I then raised my eyes across the sea beyond the marina to the horizon, five miles away.  It’s a quite spectacular thing to be able to see so far, and something I haven’t yet started to take for granted.  In the City your horizon is the end of the street, or indeed the building opposite, or if you’re really lucky the other side of a park.  Those who know me will appreciate how I used to gravitate towards open spaces on my days off, but I’ve never felt quite as happy as when I can see the water.

Something which continues to surprise me is the fluidity of the view from my apartment.  Not something I’d realised before, but I almost regarded looking out a window as an introspective experience.  You know what you’re going to see and it focuses the concentration for a moment before you turn back to your computer, your document, or whatever you have been grappling with.  Here I live in an ever changing environment – I swear they even moved the marina entrance lights whilst I was away – not only does my view change, it moves; I’ve lost count of the number of nights I’ve regained a full state of awake whilst darting through my study, convinced my yacht has dropped its lines…..

Distances – as I have touched on before – have reduced for me.  I used to think little of running six, eight or ten kilometres from the office to meet friends in the pub of an evening: now I walk eight kilometres to the supermarket, and popping sixty miles to see friends is nothing.  I never considered my world small, and it’s bizarre to think that whilst my world out here is more petite than the one I left behind, the world itself has become smaller to me.  I miss friends, but no-one seems that far away; if we can traverse 2,000 miles in a 46 foot yacht, it’s easy to cross continents with planes at your disposal.

I guess what I am trying to say is that however far apart we are geographically I feel close to you all, and I am able to see further than ever before.

Firstly, That I Could: Live with strangers or quasi strangers; live without showers, wine and wifi; use boat facilities; get passed my fear of cooking with gas, and in a metaphorical washing machine on spin cycle; accept that the dog probably peed on my foot more often than I realised, and that plans at sea are doomed to change.

This was actually the hardest thing for me; I find security in plans and definites, and whilst we knew certain things were true (our course to steer would get us to our destination, eventually) there was zero guarantee whether it would be this afternoon, this evening, tomorrow or even – in some instances – four days from now.  I think this is why I started working in terms of watches, indeed I became a bit of a watch master (mistress?).

The wind and weather are not on your side, nor is time, but time is a constant; if you’re on the 8-10pm then you’re on the 2-4am and even if you’re moving at minimal boat speed or have diverted to refuge you’re going to be nearer to your destination at the beginning of the subsequent watch.  Every ships log is a step closer.

Next, Night Watches Are Amazing: I was naive on my first night watch, “I am so excited, I’ll stay awake, no problem!”  Until about thirty minutes beforehand when I realised that all the pros had their audio media (books are forbidden on watch), I had no audio media (I don’t even have music on my phone, except my ringtone, and I’m sure it’s proven fact that any tune once it has been your ringtone for six months induces fear rather than calm).  I felt vastly unprepared.

I did stay awake, and it was great, but I downloaded audio media asap (I’m now fully addicted to and caught up on The Archers) and from there I confidently embraced my watches.  The stars amid a truly black sky – moon rose about 5am – lights of other yachts, sometimes comforting and others alerting when unpredicted, dolphins surrounding the boat like phantoms in the sea, and just the time to sit and think in solitude.

It’s interesting how rare that is; we are often alone but our phone or social media are within grasp, not so sixty miles from land.  There’s the reassurance of a yacht a mile to one side or the other, or passing bizarrely across the bow (depending who was on watch), so a desperate call on ship to ship would get an answer, but that’s a lot more of an historic approach than the immediacy we have grown used to.

Sleeping At Sea: It’s an experience, and you don’t always emerge unbruised, however, as everyone discovered within 48hrs of coming on board, you very quickly learn to sleep when you can.  With an ear open, in case of auto helm fail or, more frequently, the engine being put into neutral and a call of “Fish, fish!” down the companionway…..  and neatly to Fishing: I think fishing kept us sane, it certainly kept us very well fed, I’ve learned how to work a reel, prepare tartare, and that the knot I’ve tied in my hair for years is apparently a fishing knot.

Salopettes Rock: Within the first four days at sea it was evident that something needed to change; watch system with a constant ear and door open means that yesterday’s clothes are today’s clothes and also your pyjamas, ergo – if you favour an underwired bra – chafing.  Then I realised salopettes offer the opportunity for braless sailing!  Hurrah!

And the final thing?  Well, it was never verified, but it was the only time I heard true fear in the voice of our skipper.  Never turn off the bilge pump; we’ll sink!

To Tenerife

Wednesday
And just like that we’re on the last leg; it is less than 180 NM from Lanzarote to Tenerife, after all the miles we’ve covered so far that feels like no distance at all. It is less than one would consider driving in a day for instance, yet before this experience it would have felt like an intimidating amount of time at sea; I guess that is exactly why mileage is an important part of achieving the Yachtmaster, something as simple as being out at sea longer than intended shouldn’t be enough to phase you.

It has been quite an experience, and in a weird way it’s going to be a bit of an adjustment to get back to real life again, I’ve come to terms with sharing a small amount of space with other people, existing to a timetable 24 hours a day, and the anticipation of always being nearer to a goal than you were even ten minutes before (at this point I am already blocking out the days we spent doing nothing at all, waiting for weather to pass, those were certainly the low points).

Earlier today I was asked what I miss about London, and I really had to try to remember; I’ve spent the last 34 days missing my new life, my London life feels literally a lifetime ago. I said I miss friends and the ability to make impromptu plans, but I couldn’t remember what else – I guess I have to read back through my blogs as I’m sure I covered that previously! Being in Gibraltar was a cathartic experience from that perspective, as it had all the familiar shops and a wide selection of English pubs, in fact it could easily have been the Bristol waterfront, a place a lot of my friends call home.

Perhaps Bristol or London will be the place I hang my hat again one day, perhaps it will be sooner than I think, but tomorrow morning, just after first light, when we step off this boat I will definitely be home.

Total: 2,159 NM

To Essaouira

Tuesday
We navigated the Strait of Gibraltar this morning and this evening’s early night watch brought my first military submarine encounter which was pretty awesome.  Passage wise we realised that we and our companion yacht were flying different courtesy flags; remedied asap, apparently the Moroccans take things like that rather seriously, detainment due to flag error would be rather embarrassing.

Wednesday
Boats at sea are very noisy places to try and sleep.  When you’re on two hours on / four off you’re already conscious that it’s now or never if you’re going to get an efficient block of sleep.  There’s the engine and/or sails, Securitie announcements and general white noise on the radio, then the unidentifiable random clinks and clunks.  These cannot be ignored; the source must be sought and silenced, by use as wedges such items as towel, water bottle, tupperware, bits of card, paperback novel…. no item is sacred.

Thursday
Today I have mostly been singing a little ditty to myself: “We’re off, we’re off, we’re off in a motor yacht; come on Bavaria 39, let’s see what you’ve got!”  Given that the wind is negligible – therefore we’re on engine – we spend a significant amount of time discussing whether that’s really as fast as our companion yacht can go, and checking with their helm that they have the revs up.  An evening in Rabat last night; the marina was safely Westernised and we took up occupation in the one venue which sold wine.  A couple of us are starting to wonder if we’ve triggered tracking by our bank’s fraud team.

Friday
We’ve had continued success with our fishing rod and lures, today we even caught (and released) a seagull.  Otherwise the main entertainment has been listening to boats chatting away on our preferred VHF ship to ship channel; it’s a bizarre radio soap opera, leaving us guessing who and where they are, whether their weather information affects us, and whether it would be uncouth to join in the chat.

Saturday
We celebrated reaching Essaouira with a 4am wine and cheese party…. and awoke to discover we’d been rafted against, six deep, and no-one but us had tied shore lines.  I offered to put some on, our skipper merely said he’ll just cut them all loose if the wind picks up; for future reference, shore lines!  We’ve also had all sorts of trouble with timezones; when boat time is 1hr ahead of land time and the clocks go back, when is high water?

To Lanzarote

Sunday
I wasn’t sure what to expect with Morocco, and was tempted to stay on the boat, but I did venture out into Essaouira; the people in the fishing port were certainly very friendly.  I did not, however, partake of the food – I had a margarita on a roof terrace and that felt adventurous enough – and wise with hindsight; two of six who did eat have been struck with food poisoning.  All we can do is let them sleep, whilst taking on additional watches and endeavouring to trim off every ten minutes to dry land.

Monday
Motor sailing in 15 knots of wind, too far out for fishing boats – the only passerby is a cargo ship (and you’d be hard pressed to hit one of them) – the primary topic of conversation is shower facilities in Lanzarote.  Since we weren’t sure we could pick up fresh water on the Moroccan coast we’ve employed a shower embargo; washing up, clean hands and teeth are essentials we cannot afford to risk.  And we adopted a pet, a tame little finch joined us at lunch for tuna tartare and decided to stay until sundown, it was like something out of Disney; flying in and out of the galley, eating tuna off my fork, sitting on our shoulders; boat dog was not impressed.

Tuesday
We made it – a slightly more treacherous night entry than expected as they’ve built a new (and unlit!) marina wall since our skipper was here last – all showered and I have Vina Sol!  And it is time for a few more byes; it’s fair to say this trip has taken longer than expected, we’re down to a final five of twelve, and so far only one tipsy marina topple off a pontoon…. (and it wasn’t me!)

To be continued……

Total: 1,983 NM

To Cartagena

Monday
We have commenced our longest passage to date; approx 280 NM, at between 5 and 6.5 knots this is going to take at least two days.  A later than planned foray into Barcelona last night – the boat show meant it took two hours to negotiate somewhere to park – led to a slow start this morning.  But we’re off in a fashion, and we hope to be in Gibraltar at the weekend.  It’s grey and gloomy, not much tanning going on here, tis still the season for sallopettes!

Tuesday
Watch pattern has changed so my night watch is now the midnight to 2am, the occasional cargo ship on the AIS and an astute look out for solo sail yachts, those little guys seem to like to point at us while their skipper is sleeping – and we only see their nav lights when they’re about ten mins off our bow.  Cue a hasty call on VHF CH 16…..  Daylight hours colregs are fun too, today we had a sequence of collision course situations with cargo vessels ten times our size; and just as we decided to “stand on” with one we caught a tuna, whilst being informed by the AIS that our closest point of approach with said cargo ship was 200 ft…. that’s not very far.

Wednesday
We have crossed the East / West meridian, and made it to Cartagena!  Add these together and we’re over halfway to Tenerife; you’ll notice that it looks like we’re going to do more than 1,600 miles on this trip, I needed 1,400 on top of what I had already and I knew I’d get a bit more than that.  Looks like I’ll get a lot more!

To Gibraltar

Thursday
Our stay in sleepy Cartagena was unexpectedly evenful; our fellow yacht experienced engine failure upon entering the marina and had to drift to a point at which she could be dragged into a berth.  And you recall that white flag from Sardinia?  It returned.  We have lost someone from our boat, so we’re also a man down and a watch each up for the next leg and potentially the rest of the passage.  Once the situation was confirmed – white flag was waved secretly, via a stealth encampment in a hotel, whilst the rest of us were having dinner – we approached it as sensible adults with a 40 hour sail ahead; we drank all the wine.

Friday
A slow day at sea.  We have five hours to waste to ensure we arrive in Gib when the port is open – cue discussion as to whether to detour via the Costa Del Sol for lunch – but good news: the sun has come out to play!  We also have migrating birds stopping on the boat for a rest, the fishing line out the back (although a tuna stole our winning lure), dolphins coming to say hello (spooky at night!), snoozing pilot whales, and boats operating in stealth mode to keep things interesting.

Saturday
Whether you do Comp Crew, Day Skipper, Coastal or Yachtmaster you do many, many manoverboard practices, and you hope that you’ll never, ever need to put them into play.   What they don’t tell you is that in real life it’s probably not going to be due to the boom clonking you on the head during an uncontrolled jibe, or topling over whilst flaking the main at the mast in hectic weather; it’s far more likely to be when you’re hanging off the pushpit pulling in a tuna, or leaning over to get the hosepipe on solo watch because the dog has peed in the cockpit….  On that note, we’re safely in Gibraltar, no MOB procedures required.

To be continued……

Total sailed: 1,366 NM

To Toulon

Monday
It looks like we’ll make it to mainland France in the next 24hrs, whether Toulon or other remains to be seen, as always weather dependent.  As it gets even colder and wetter this is getting just a little less fun; crew and boats are going to require a bit of TLC on the other side.  I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve bumped myself on a door frame, the underneath of a shelf, or missed a step in the companionway.  On the boat side of things the main sheet winch slips (inconvenient), and this morning a lazy jack snapped; not too much of an issue, until we took down the main sail and had to construct a new lazy jack from a haliard, and lash the sail on, whilst heeled over, in the dark.  Our fellow yacht, however, hasn’t got an auto helm at present, on top of being a crew member down, so are manual helming throughout the night, necessitating double watches; I don’t presume morale is rocketing aboard.

Tuesday
We instituted the same watch system as before for this passage (~130 NM), and it’s amusing how whilst at sea those natural English niceties which we drop in conversation without really considering their meaning, actually make no sense.  For instance I was going to bed at 10pm last night just when someone who had been asleep since 5pm was coming on watch – and he wished me a cheery “Good morning!”.  And when I came off watch at 4am I said to my replacement “Enjoy your watch!”, “Thank you!” he replied delightfully: belying the two dark, cold, wet hours ahead.  I’ve started wearing other people’s clothes as well as my own, really looking forward to going South, I think we can confidently say I won’t be sailing in the Solent any time soon.

Wednesday
Hiding from the mistral, so I have disembarked, purchased jeans and a scarf, and set off on a mini adventure to visit friends in Nice!  Prosecco and pecorino galore.  Side note: back on board I am almost out of Hellmann’s, this could be breaking point.

Thursday
Additional purchase: umbrella.  Life span of umbrella: 42 minutes.  The wind and rain are pretty incorrigible, correlated with the fact we’re not out at sea.  I also have some well travelled truffle pecorino in my handbag from adventuring overnight; the return ferries were a bit French ie closed, so I befriended the staff in a restaurant and they negotiated local rates at a hotel.  And I’m proud to say I didn’t spend the difference on margaritas.

Friday
Rumour has it that for every 60 NM we travel South the temperature should increase by a degree; time to put that to the test!  We set off tomorrow, I have done my passage plan (there is a yachtmaster to achieve at the end of this!): course to steer 235 degrees compass, it’s only vaguely Southerly but it’s a start.  Disappointed by the lack of Hellmann’s in Toulon supermarkets, but we located a squeezy bottle in a cubby under a bench in the saloon; that should last me to Gibraltar.

To Barcelona

Saturday
An early start, an extra skipper and a functioning auto helm on our companion yacht, and we’ve left France.  One thing I’ve found bizarre has been sleeping with a French woman shouting Securitie announcements on the radio through the night, mostly VHF channels and coordinates: weird Lost dreams abound.  We caught a 25kg yellowfin tuna which took three of us and a kitchen knife strapped to a boathook 65mins to get on board.  We then chased down our friends and via some rather risky logistics – when there’s this much ocean, why not try and sail five metres apart?! – passed them steaks and tartare fillets for dinner.  What I said about morale earlier in the week; considerably up on both sides.

Sunday
Hola!  The Spanish courtesy flag has replaced the French, and we hope to be in Barcelona by 1800.  I already have my mind set on the margarita bar I located on my outbound trip.  It is hard being a creature of habit when everything around you is alien, taking small comfort in familiarities along the way is certainly a stepping stone to staying sane until we are safely home again.

To be continued……

Total sailed: 855 NM

To Sardinia

Monday
Wow, it’s just beautiful out here.  There’s no wind and no land as far as the eye can see, the water looks like someone has loosely rippled a sheet of silk, and boy is it hot!  It’s 200 NM from Trapani to our next intended port, so we should arrive there at midnight tomorrow if the wind doesn’t pick up, in which case we’ll either strive on or effect a different plan – approaching a new marina in the middle of the night is no-one’s preference.  We’ve seen so many turtles today, fabulous to find somewhere they’re clearly thriving; possibly because of the lack of human interference, it’s easy to imagine that we’re somewhere entirely untraversed.

Tuesday
This morning I found a cable tie in my hair, I have no idea when or how that got there.  We made it to Sardinia just after sunset; wind was up today, so I got to experience sleeping in the forepeak whilst beating into the wind – banana rides on the beachfront in Marbella have nothing on this.

To Corsica

Wednesday
We’ve lost a participant on the passage, and not overboard.  Coincidentally he also left his office job in June with the hope of becoming a cruising instructor.  It appears that the way we sail in the non competitive world (ie no wind = chuck the engine on and get to where we want to be!) just wasn’t for him.  Realising you need to go back isn’t a weakness, I’ve certainly never said I’ll never go back, and I can’t pretend this has been easy, but I’m not ready to concede just yet.  There’s still over 1,000 miles to go – perhaps we’ll meet my breaking point, and if we do perhaps I’ll be grateful that I’m not the first to raise the white flag.

Thursday
We left Sardinia with the intention of Corsica, and made it, just, before the thunder and lightning hit.  We didn’t make it any distance up the coast, we quite literally crossed between the islands and dove into the first port, parked up beside the big orange rescue boat (the lady in the marina office told me we could park “anywhere [we] like” which translated to “no-one is coming out to tell you where to park in THIS”) and then we spent the next couple of hours hiding from the storm in a bar.  To quantify the level of weather: the bar had brooms on chairs holding up the roof due to the weight of the rain coming down!

Friday
Bonjour from Bonifacio!  What a lovely place to hide from the mistral, it’s the calm after the storm – and how surprisingly comforting to be in French territory.  Communication over the last few days has been a bit complicated; my default now is limited Spanish, so whereas the Sardinians understand English perfectly, I’ve just ended up confusing everyone, then resorted to pointing and apologetic English anyway.  Plus Italian food has been a little limited in terms of Maddie friendly… even the rest of the crew are tired of pizza.  But today it’s all French language, food, wine and sunshine; quite content.

Saturday
Up the coast of Corsica, we’d hoped to make it across to mainland France – but the weather said no – it looks like we’ll be stuck in Corsica for another 24hrs yet, and then it’s 100 NM to the other side….  In terms of victualing, I have introduced my crew mates to three types of sheep’s cheese so far, a revelation, apparently!  A very good way to be remembered.  It’s getting colder now, thank goodness for salopettes; I dream of footless tights and kneehigh socks.

To be continued……

Total sailed: 531 NM