Sadko update 28 June 1630
Sadko
Martin Lamport
Mon 2 Jul 2012 18:30
|
We arrived in Ponta Delgada marina around noon
yesterday after two lovely days sail from Flores, passing through St George's
channel between the islands of Horta, Pico and Sao Jorge. We had lively
conditions at first but they subsided by morning and we had to motor a
bit. Nevertheless we competed the voyage under sail and had the
satisfaction of slowly catching up with and passing a French yacht on the same course. The waters round the Azores
were better for wildlife than most of the trip and we saw quite a few common
dolphins and even a couple of very brief glimpses of a whale's
tail.
As this voyage is now ended, I have looked up a few
statistics for the record. We are 2,327 miles by GPS from our way point
near Anegada, about ten miles from Tortola. We took 18
and a half days to reach Flores, on eight of which we sailed under spinnaker for
at least some and often all of the day. Two more days to Sao Miguel, but
with only three of us and little hurry we did not bother with the
spinnaker. We ran the engine for 124 hours during the whole
voyage.
My crew completely failed to rise to the
Sadko poetry challenge. Oh spirit of Pooh and Ratty, why have you
left us? When Englishmen composed verse and smoked pipes we ruled the
waves. Had they been inspired they might have come up with something like
the offering below, which I lay before you begging tolerance. Where it
neither rhymes, nor scans, do not blame the muse. She was probably feeling
a bit sea sick!
THE BALLAD OF SADKO 'CROSS THE
POND
He lured us with tales of adventure,
That devious old dog of the sea, Of azure lagoons and tropical shores Sun downers in golden Bermuda, And welcoming bars in Azores. Of course we were fools to believe him.
Our friends were really to blame. "Oh Martin's a sensible fellow", they said, He'll bring you through thick and thin. We'll seek legal redress and make claim. Why we trusted a diplomatic old dodger,
Whose career was professional lies, For country? Queen? Own gain? (Dipsomatic was more like his strong suit) We never could after explain. So with visions of teak and mahogany,
Of fittings all gleaming brass, We set off for distant Tortola, Virgin Atlantic to Virgin Isles, Virgins indeed! My A***! The name of the boat should have warned
us,
Whoever has heard of Sadko? Named for some dubious Russian, Whose story might make operetta, But informs not a jot navigation. We arrived in the dark and the damp,
Of blistering hot Nanny Cay, And there lay this battered old bathtub. Not a lick of paint on her hull Nor a fitting of brass could we see. Piles of junk on the pontoon beside her,
'Twas nothing to what lay inside, For nautical paraphernalia, She'd corner'd the global supply, And we were expected to sail in her! A whole week we sweated and toiled,
To make that boat fit for sea. The skipper just tried to bamboozle us, Showed us the ropes and took us to eat, "De best food on de island",for tea. So when those mean Virgin islanders
Ordered us off their fair shore, We pulled off the tarps And untied the warps And never looked back there no more. A fishing buoy could not detain us,
Though it had a jolly good try, So the skipper went swimming at midnight. From sailing books we'd revised, This all seemed a far cry. Then we'd miles of trackless ocean With only a radio sched', "Southbound II, Herb the weather, Copy you fives, Roger, Roger." To let the world know we're not dead. No, it wasn't all plain sailing,
With spinnaker set for a lark, A squall out of nowhere did smite us, Pouring rain, scuppers overflowing, Then a rudder got eat by a shark. Eighteen and a half days it took us,
To reach that fair island of flowers, where the rain seldom stops, And you can't see the tops, For the whole place is covered in clouds. So here ends our tale of adventure, After crossing the endless main, We didn't half sleep once safe from the deep, But the skipper stayed up for hours, Heed this warning, no kidding, he's planning to do it again! Signing off for the last time
Martin
|