First Atlantic encounter
The first sunset in the Atlantic was as pompous as an Italian rococo painting!
Although certainly none of these great artists could have captured what nature conjured up in the evening sky, even remotely with paint and brush.
We had timed the right current in the Strait of Gibraltar and slipped through it like a suppository with the right wind.
What a welcome, the right wind, the right current and the perfect weather, at least on the first day!
Then the diesel hummed for 30 hours and pushed us leisurely south.
Listening to music, reading books and enjoying the boredom, we suddenly had a visitor in the middle of nowhere, in the middle of the sea, many miles from land.
A little bird, half the size of a sparrow, stowed away for many hours, totally exhausted.
While we were still thinking about how it got so far out to sea, another birdie joined us and was probably also wondering how our little colleague got here.
Funny how one can be so consciously happy about small everyday things like a bird on the sea!
The foothills of an Atlantic storm put an end to our calm ride and brought us too much wind, from the right direction - but too much waves from the wrong direction.
From now on it got blazingly fast, but so uncomfortable that you wished you had more hands to hold on to.
Once Bertel flew at an extreme angle, across the pantry (kitchen) and landed with his butt in the gimbal oven.
After the first shock he could have hurt myself, but then I had to laugh tears, it was just a matter of turning on the oven!
Hour after hour, day after day, the stormy wind lashes us as if to make up for the doldrums of the second day.
Is this the sublime Atlantic sailing that Bertel raved about?
Well, however. This morning we dropped anchor on Garziosa, a small island in the Canary archipelago, and now it's time to sleep in!
In two days the stress will be forgotten, Odin and we will be freed from the salt crust and the world will be fine again!