DAY 19 “All I want to do is watch Prometheus”…the God of fire offered us all a tool to aid the advances of humanity… an extent of one of these advancements allows us to utilise such a gift and switch our brains off within the comfort of a cinema – I used this vision of […]
"All I want to do is watch Prometheus"...the God of fire offered us all a tool to aid the advances of humanity... an extent of one of these advancements allows us to utilise such a gift and switch our brains off within the comfort of a cinema - I used this vision of myself as a numbing agent, wedged into the corner of my bed with a foot firmly placed against the slanted roof to secure myself against another night of torrid Indian Ocean treatment...It worked, I managed to snatch a few hours sleep, Peter had been fixing the boat in these mad conditions through the night, he managed an hour of kip as he called out for assistance. The conditions were superb,"fishing conditions" was the cry... no sooner had Peter let out the 'Silver Spoon Spinnner'...allowing the line to taught out to its 50m length then..."BANG" he shouts, I was pulling whatever it was in as Peter got the net, a Spanish mackerel the length of my arm was going to be dinner tonight, we had it up against the boat but the net was too small, the sight of this beautiful silver fish was just the burst of optimism the crew of Shadow needed...until of coarse the kerfuffle ended with our dinner wriggling free. Ah well...'Shadow' had been cutting through the waves like a knife through butter for a few hours, we were sailing north around 60 miles east off the Ozzy coast to maximise on the 'North Easterlies' (favourable winds for our coarse). Moral had returned again, Shadow was steady enough for Peter to knock up some lovely kangaroo steaks with creamy potatoes. The Thumb was beginning to adjust to life on the high seas, the 'wind vein' (self steering mechanism) was still capoot which weighed heavy on the skippers mind as weather to get it fixed before we continue on, meaning we would have to dock into Geraldton, our last opportunity of land given our position. What happened next made the skippers decision for him. The engine decided to pitch in on the ongoing saga by allowing the essential exhaust pipe within the engine room to blow, Geraldton bound we were. The Thumb was not sure what all this entailed...but as my brief sailing education had received a 'baptism of fire' the lessons the Seas were giving me were loud and clear- 'shes' the boss, and us mere mortals are allowed only to respond to what 'she' decides to throw your way. Geraldton was 50 miles east...the wind and tides decided they would make this difficult for us.