18 Dec Golden
We went from the asymmetrical to a reefed main and the Solent in less than 45 minutes. From lazing downhill to close-hauled.
I was about to pre-compute the evening star shots when we were overtaken by this bank of cumulus at the end of their life. So much for figuring out where exactly we were.
It has become a race to 32 South or so between us and a large low pressure system sweeping up from the southern ocean. To the victor goes sunshine and downwind courses. The loser gets headwinds and thick cloud.
It dawned on me that we were here. Here being knocking on the door of the Roaring Forties. Sunshine and heat and light winds would soon give way to layered fleece and merino wool and foul weather gear. Seaburban at that moment felt small and frail.
Cape Horn lies days away now. Not weeks but days. Somewhere nearby I am sure there is a billboard that reads “Only 21 more shopping days ’till Cape Horn!”
Follow my tracks in real-time: