Sunday 15th July '12

It's a little tricky to keep up with progress at the moment; The Kipper and his crew-of-two are making all speed towards Gibraltar.  On Friday evening, they were safely tucked up in Lagos and were carefully watching the weather to see if they might get the break they need to get safely through the Straits.

At 08:46 hrs on Saturday 14th July, The Kipper wrote:

'We are just preparing to leave for Ayamonte on the Portugese/Spanish border, just 60 miles.  Killing time really to give the Levanter time to go through.  Plan to move onto Rota, Cadiz Bay to stop whilst I return home for the party.  We need to be in port tonight to celebrate Bob D's retirement day.  It's official, his last day in the job today.  Wind has abated from 30 knots to 20 so shouldn't take long to knock off the miles.'

There followed texts to little Bobbie D wishing him hearty congratulations on his retirement and welcoming him back into the real world. 

By 23:21 hours that day they had arrived back on dry land and once again, I think the drink may have played a part in the messages received from The Kipper. His first update of the evening didn't confirm where they were or any details about how the sailing went, the weather conditions or anything even remotely like it.  No, he sent me a message to tell me that they were eating snails, anchovies and cheese shavings which he found to be a weird mix. 

I did later receive a text from him to let me know that they arrived at Atamonte at 21:00 hrs and had taken Bob D out for a retirement drink and tapas.  I didn't know that snails were to be found on a tapas menu. 

I'm thinking of booking The Kipper onto a photographic course.  Poor Steve looks like he has just eaten a dodgy snail and something strange has happened to little Bobbie D's eyes.

The next update from The Kipper was received at 16:28 hrs today (Sunday) and read as follows:

'We have another scorcher, not a cloud to be seen!  Left Ayamonte this morning with a NW F4 so very broad reaching.  Then, as the day warmed up, after an hour the wind started to drop off, tried getting the beast out of the bag but it completely scared off the remnants of what breeze there was.  It's now safely back in the bag.  Motoring towards Rota in Cadiz Bay, going to check the weather as we get closer to see if there will be time to get to Gibraltar before the Levanter sets in.  Game of the day is fly swotting!  Bobbie D is going berserk with a rolled up newspaper (The Times, if you please) and I'm at it with my right flip-flop, it's better than the left one!'

I fear they may have been drinking sea water!!!!

Interestingly, at 18:41 hrs, I received the following from an anonymous member of the crew-of-two:

'Scribe.  Kipper put kite up today.  40 mins huffing, puffing and titting about to get it up.  5 minutes later back down cos kite won't fly without wind.  Meanwhile did anyone notice the helm burning to a crisp while conning inch perfect course through mine field of crab pots.  Did they bugger.  Anon.
 p.s. In fit of pique Kipper broke my sun glasses just cos I 'poisoned' his tea with sugar.  Will be bloody more than sugar next time.'

I did warn them about that nasty little sail and I distinctly remember warning them not to let the damned thing out of the bag.  See what's happened now: they're tetchy, using extreme violence on flies, making threats to poison each other and breaking things.  It's a nasty little sail and I think they should court martial it, find it guilty, fill it's sail bag with rocks and throw it off the side immediately.

For those reading this who may either have signed up for or be thinking of taking any kind of sailing class, please note the clever and if I may say, appropriate use of that technical sailing expression, 'Titting about'.  Perfect usage here; seems to adequately sum up the situation and paints a very vivid word picture don't you think. 

The Kipper's final update of the evening was received at 22:29 hrs:

'Made it to Rota, Cadiz Bay, the kites well controlled, just thought it needed an airing and to be shown the sun!  The only violence was towards the pesky flies, don't know where they came from but they went to fly hell.  F7-8 in the Straits with rough seas, staying put till it blows through.'

The Kipper confirms that they are only about 70 miles from the Straits; I still have high hopes that they will get through before he has to fly home for the birthday party.  We'll know more tomorrow.