110 bpm: washing up = zone 2 training

Belize to Panama (Day 3) - Offshore Northern Honduras - Heading North-East

It’s midnight. Sam wakes me for my watch.

Despite the hour, it is not pitch black. The water shimmers silver, illuminated by a bright half moon. I take care as I clamber across the cockpit to the helm station. There is still a fair bit of sea state, and we are rolling around in it. The moon dips behind some clouds. The night grows darker.

We are heading South-East. Sam confirms that the plan is to stay on the same tack until sunrise, so it should be a pretty uneventful watch. I just need to keep my eyes peeled for squalls, as there are a few around. The chart is overlayed with data from the radar, which should make it easier to spot weather ahead.

An hour into my watch, the clouds part, and I can now see the night sky scattered with stars.

There are some big rollers to contend with. One wave pushes us up, sending sails flapping, and causing my heart to jump. “Why?” I ask myself. This is no different to previous watches, alone on deck at night. Yet, I am a somewhat more on edge than usual. Perhaps some part of my mind is racing ahead, worrying about the next few nights, where we will need to stay alert for pirates. I can’t settle my mind. It is an uneasy feeling.

I spot a squall on radar. Looking ahead, I can just make out some darker clouds on the horizon. By 0150, the wind is strengthening and the downpour has begun.

At 0230, Charles pops his head up, asking how long the wash down pump has been on. I didn’t even know it was on, I say. He turns it off and ambles back to bed for a snooze before his watch starts in half an hour’s time.

I handover to Charles and Lieneke at 0300, then get some sleep.

Come 1000 and I’m back on watch. It’s uneventful. We simply keep sailing North-East.

After my watch, I lie down along the cockpit bench for a siesta. After some waves rudely interrupt my slumber, I migrate down below to sleep in earnest. On a few occasions, I wake to the sound of water rushing overhead as a wave carries itself over the bow and into the cockpit.

Can you decipher our watch roster?

When I wake, I listen to music. I had forgotten how much I enjoy this.

On the menu for dinner is vegetarian sausages with dauphinoise potatoes. I could have eaten the whole tray of potatoes and happily skipped the vegetarian sausages! The only drawback to these delicious potatoes is the burnt bits on the tray which are a real pain to wash up. So, in a classic Alex move, I leave the tray to soak.

The rest of the washing up is problematic too. It’s hot, we are at an angle, and now the drawer won’t open to put the utensils away - meaning all the clean, dry utensils are dancing across the countertop, threatening to impale someone (or worse, become dirty again). I climb up into the cockpit to try cool down. My heart rate is 110 beats per minute just from washing up. After a cold shower on the transom, it falls to 60 - somewhat elevated, but I will take it in this heat.

Sam points up at the moon, showing me how it has a halo around it. Very surreal.

I snooze on deck until it’s time for my watch, which ends up being uneventful. The wind is consistent. I am feeling very tired, despite a lot of sleep today, so let Otto do most of the work.

I am looking forward to a wind shift forecast for tomorrow. We are now far enough North to remain comfortably offshore as we round pirates’ corner. In fact, we have done so much North today that we are at the same latitude as Banco Chinchorro - the crystal clear waters we dived in on the way from Mexico to Belize. Ideally, we now want to be sailing East. Thankfully, tomorrow afternoon, the wind is due to shift North, meaning we can reach East. Then, once we look as if we are halfway to Jamaica, we can bear away and start sailing South. Finally, we will be making some good ground towards our destination: the Bocas del Toro archipelago in Panama.

Just before I handover the watch, the wind speed starts to pick up. By midnight, I am ready to sleep.