Same as it ever was, Same as it ever was…

Same as it ever was, Same as it ever was…

Looks pretty much like yesterday except that we are almost dead downwind and, unbelievably, miraculously, incredibly on the final run to the ‘Big Turn’.

Along with my irrational fear of running out of things (The latest is .05mm HB pencil lead.), I’ve become superstitious about uttering out loud the name of the Cape of Capes, le fin du monde, the Big Turn, Old Capey.

It looks like I’ll have to earn it after all. There’s a final test of patience as the wind dies just west of the Cape that shall not be named and a vigorous low that looks to be developing at McMighty Cape just as I will be arriving. The problem is that this low blocks the exit to the Atlantic and effectively shuts down any reasonable plan to the south. Forecasts change so we’ll see.

Two days ago we were flying through the night time rain on 36 knot gusts. By comparison, last night and today are holidays even though the winds are pretty much like yesterday except that we are almost dead downwind and, unbelievably, miraculously, incredibly on the final run to the ‘Big Turn’.

Along with my irrational fear of running out of things (The latest is.05mm HB pencil lead.), of become superstitious about uttering out loud the name of the Cape of Capes, le fin du monde, the Big Turn, Old Capey.

It looks like the I’ll have to earn it after all. There’s a vigorous low forecast to develop just as I arrive at McMighty Cape. It effectively shuts down the exit to the Atlantic and any reasonable plan to the south. Forecasts change so the exit plan is not yet cast in stone. Fingers crossed…

For now, it’s a comparative holiday as the Solent is doing all the work while I laze about and exchange sideways glances with Sir Salty and Port and Starboard.

The Cape of Capes. Passed by all the great navigators and touchstone of sailors the world over. Who would have thought!

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