After a thunderstorm in Biscay, I found that the mainsail was seriously damaged. That's the sail that is the sort of engine for a yacht, the equipment that provides the power, and much of the ability to sail close to the wind.
I changed course, turned about, and yacht sailed down towards the Azores ...
|The fun in Funchal ... where something quite extraordinary was about to spark. - Many thanks to Madeira Tourist for the gorgeous shot of Funchal Promenade and Avenida do Mar.|
Freshly mown clover perfumes the wind, a space of turf and trees, then another village, and now a communal clothes line of immense size, sheets and shirts and shorts surprisingly uniformly coloured, blue towels, beige bras with considerable cups, and yellow socks, scores of them pegged together in CW phrases, dah dit dit, dah dit dit, dah dit dit, and repeated on and on. I’m wondering why the letter ‘D’? Pride over the cup size perhaps.
The wind stays friendly, so I changed the destination towards Madeira, where something extraordinary would happen, something that it seemed would change my life forever.
A smudge of green appears far off, then a shape like a welcome salute which gradually grows more political – Viva Funchal - and becomes Madeira climbing slowly from the sea, right where the sextant predicted.
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