Jungle sitting pretty on the dock.
Finally in the harbor - we arrived at 0300. Dawn over Horta.
A pod of 8-10 whales decided to swim by. We had to scramble to get our camera - quite a sight!
We combine our efforts to get the salt off the boat - it isn't clean until the salts off.
They put me at the back of the boat.
OK, enough of that - tme to swab the decks. Of course while fashioned in the latest swimwear from Malibu.
In a blink of an eye, we hoist the main sail and usher Jungle on her way. Onward!
Ignore that last picture. Here, I will at least look busy while a fair maiden looks on in obvious admiration. Rick, not so much.
And I, Barbeque Man, will expertly commandeer our next plan of attack! A little drooling may be involved.
Jungle's fair maiden will then repair the damaged sail as it's fed through the overhead hatch.
Fear not madam. As I will quickly drop the sail to the deck. I will have Crewmate Ricky use his consummate skills to hold the sail down from the beating, relentless winds!
Oh Barbeque Man, the sail has split (again) at the top.
I AM BARBEQUE MAN. And no weather can stop me from grilling steaks, burgers fish and those little pork chop thingies. 20-30 knot winds? HAH, I spit at them. Then sometimes take a good one right back in the face. But I will not be deterred! I wield my tongs with extreme fury and skill.
Jenee and Lennie found time to read and relax.
When does opportunity on a boat arise? Constantly. We noticed a strong smell of diesel fuel and upon inspection, found this floor storage area and much of the bilge just floating with diesel! It turned out we did quite a bit of rocking in heavy seas an full fuel tanks. We located a disconnected fuel tank vent hose on the starboard (right) tank. About 7 gallons of diesel had spilled out before we reconnected the vent hose and were back in action. As always, it could have been worse.
Jungle sails along at the end of another beautiful day.
Rick Bourne manning the helm. We had a bumpy start but no crew member missed their watch. Rick and Lennie proved to be troopers on their very first Ocean passage. When all is said and done, they will have logged 2000 miles and 17 blue water days at sea. Most peolple never make one day. So there.
Jungle at sea. We could see all the sailboats for the first day. Day 2 we could see one and after that, we would see none for pretty much the whole trip. The spread turned out to be about 600 miles as the race boats shot to the lead and others turned back to avoid weather or return to Bermuda for repairs.
We're headed out the Town Cut which is the narrow channel out of St. Georges on the northern most point of Bermuda. This will be our last sight of land for almost 2 weeks.
And we're off! Let's see Jungle is starting in about 9th place - same place she ended up at the finish. Who cares, sailing is for pussies anyways.
Poor Katie is tramatized at the thought of another passage - woe is kitty. While the Admiral makes all attempts to comfort, I look on in total empathy for our feline fur ball.
Smiles everyhere as we take trips to and from Jungle to get ready for a trip.
The Jungle team discusses the strategy for the 1800 mile passage to the Azores. Or maybe, they're just having a nice dinner.
Jungle sitting pretty on the dock.
Finally in the harbor - we arrived at 0300. Dawn over Horta.
A pod of 8-10 whales decided to swim by. We had to scramble to get our camera - quite a sight!
We combine our efforts to get the salt off the boat - it isn't clean until the salts off.
They put me at the back of the boat.
OK, enough of that - tme to swab the decks. Of course while fashioned in the latest swimwear from Malibu.
In a blink of an eye, we hoist the main sail and usher Jungle on her way. Onward!
Ignore that last picture. Here, I will at least look busy while a fair maiden looks on in obvious admiration. Rick, not so much.
And I, Barbeque Man, will expertly commandeer our next plan of attack! A little drooling may be involved.
Jungle's fair maiden will then repair the damaged sail as it's fed through the overhead hatch.
Fear not madam. As I will quickly drop the sail to the deck. I will have Crewmate Ricky use his consummate skills to hold the sail down from the beating, relentless winds!
Oh Barbeque Man, the sail has split (again) at the top.
I AM BARBEQUE MAN. And no weather can stop me from grilling steaks, burgers fish and those little pork chop thingies. 20-30 knot winds? HAH, I spit at them. Then sometimes take a good one right back in the face. But I will not be deterred! I wield my tongs with extreme fury and skill.
Jenee and Lennie found time to read and relax.
When does opportunity on a boat arise? Constantly. We noticed a strong smell of diesel fuel and upon inspection, found this floor storage area and much of the bilge just floating with diesel! It turned out we did quite a bit of rocking in heavy seas an full fuel tanks. We located a disconnected fuel tank vent hose on the starboard (right) tank. About 7 gallons of diesel had spilled out before we reconnected the vent hose and were back in action. As always, it could have been worse.
Jungle sails along at the end of another beautiful day.
Rick Bourne manning the helm. We had a bumpy start but no crew member missed their watch. Rick and Lennie proved to be troopers on their very first Ocean passage. When all is said and done, they will have logged 2000 miles and 17 blue water days at sea. Most peolple never make one day. So there.
Jungle at sea. We could see all the sailboats for the first day. Day 2 we could see one and after that, we would see none for pretty much the whole trip. The spread turned out to be about 600 miles as the race boats shot to the lead and others turned back to avoid weather or return to Bermuda for repairs.
We're headed out the Town Cut which is the narrow channel out of St. Georges on the northern most point of Bermuda. This will be our last sight of land for almost 2 weeks.
And we're off! Let's see Jungle is starting in about 9th place - same place she ended up at the finish. Who cares, sailing is for pussies anyways.
Poor Katie is tramatized at the thought of another passage - woe is kitty. While the Admiral makes all attempts to comfort, I look on in total empathy for our feline fur ball.
Smiles everyhere as we take trips to and from Jungle to get ready for a trip.
The Jungle team discusses the strategy for the 1800 mile passage to the Azores. Or maybe, they're just having a nice dinner.
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