Alexandra Bevis

Charles has lit the braai! It’s giving first night of the Caribbean 600 vibes, braaiing downwind. We should be on the spinnaker, but we haven’t finished rigging it and quite frankly we’re still too tired to sort it out if something goes wrong. So for now, we’re rigging a stabiliser for the main and poling out the jib, running goose winged. We are still trying to hug the coast to keep out of the Gulf Stream, which is running against us, but the wind is not working in our favour. So we are currently a bit further offshore and in more adverse current. It feels slow. As the sun sets, we do a rig check. A few bolts on the main sheet had become loose, so we tightened those. Then we turn to dinner. Sadly, Ben didn’t catch any fish today, so our evening menu consists of sausages with a side of sweet potatoes. Our fridge is filled to the brim with meat and cheese, with only limited space for fresh vegetables. We will no doubt need to crack open the tins at some point, but for now we are running with “boy dinner” (meat, potatoes). Tonight is much darker, no longer having the light pollution from the skyscrapers of Miami. With no clouds, the stars shine bright. And in the distance, hundreds of miles away, a lightning storm is putting on quite the show. But don’t go thinking it’s all sunshine and roses. We are rolling a lot. And it is near impossible to sleep in the hotbox that is our cabin. I had to splash myself with water and lie in the cockpit for a while to cool down in the sea breeze. That half an hour snooze was the best sleep I’ve had so far this passage. Come 03.00 I’m back on watch. There is now bioluminescence in our wake, as if we are trailing glitter. But we can’t relax entirely. We need to keep our speed up. There is an area of low pressure in the Gulf of Mexico developing into a storm, which is forecast to roll our way. So we have set ourselves a speed cutoff: anything less than 3.5 knots of boat speed, and we will turn the engine on. None of us are particularly keen to do that, but we need to ensure we get South and out of its path as quickly as possible. When it’s time to get my head down, I don’t repeat my mistake of sleeping in our cabin. I build myself a pillow fortress in the saloon, and there I sleep soundly for two hours. I awake to the sound of fishing lures being assembled. As I stretch myself awake, there’s a cry on deck: dolphins! Still half asleep, I clamber up and to the bow. What a way to start the day! We are reaching. Ben had been asking to hoist the new Code Zero for the best part of 36 hours non-stop. But now we start talking about hoisting, it appears that our bowman has adjusted a little more quickly to Caribbean time than any of us could have hoped for. Ben: Ugh, I’m going to have to go forward now, aren’t I? Life is so tough. After a rather strong coffee, we hoist and unfurl the new Code Zero without a hitch. She’s a monster. A beautiful, beautiful, monster. Immediate speed. We turn South, heading for Cuba. The new Code Zero has been named. “Passage Making”. I like it. It’s true in both senses: it’s made our passage, and we are moving! SOG 8.1 knots COG 205 TWS 12.8 knots TWD 134 TWA 70 Sails: Main, NEW Code Zero (maiden sail) 4 Oct 1700 - 5 Oct 1200 Key Largo, Florida - Key West, Florida