Last night was finally time for some action. We've been waiting for it for a while and every time we were expecting good wind and some speed under our keel, either the wind died out or the forecast was wrongly predicted. Yesterday late afternoon we left our calm berth at L'Ametlla de Mar to finally get around that delta they've been talking about. The wind was supposed to have cooled down a bit to under the 20s and just like expected - our journey started with a smooth 17-19 knots of breeze from the West, making for a perfect ride in close reach, average speed on 6.7. Soon we got hit by gusts up to the 30s and we decided to reef the main, just to notice that the wind kicked up even further. 32. 34. 36. I was getting all excited of the surprising adrenalin rush, the butterflies that I've been waiting for were finally back. I was desperately trying to wipe the salty water from my face to be able to see something and at the same time I was begging for the wind to stay some more. But when the main was on first reef, the genoa furled around 20% and we both were prepared for more of it - it all stopped. From 35 it went down to 28, to 24 to 20 and all of a sudden our speed got stopped by a wave and the wind was down to 12 knots. What the fuck happened? Where did it all go, so quick? Please come back wind, we're far from being finished with you!
Those schizophrenic times, which quite often happens on the sea or in relation to it, provides equally strong sense of confusion and contrast as when you've been out in seriously rough weather, when you're totally beaten up by high seas and strong breeze, and then entering a quiet harbor where people are slowly and happily strolling around - totally clueless of the wildness that's going on, just some meters away from them, around the corner of the harbor entrance. The contrast of the two worlds are sometimes so definite that it becomes hilarious and many times I've wanted to scream to non-sailing people in the marina: Do you have any god damn idea of what is going on out there!!?
The sea and the waves and the wind and the water - the more days that pass of aboard living and sailing, the more I fall in love with them all. This relationship I have to them, like many other sailing-loving people also have, is so passionate and raw and harsh and totally fulfilling - that I could never imagine to live without it again. Although it took some years of my life to enter this new world, I feel so incredibly blessed that Alex introduced it all to me, now for one year ago. Better late than never, like they say.
In the middle of the rush and excitement last night, I remember I was screaming to Alex: Next boat we'll have must be a faster one, please!!! Let's see if we one day can afford to upgrade to the beautiful Hallberg Rassy 40, that would have been the ultimate boat for us in terms of both having the possibility to ride harder weather in greater speed, and at the same time have the most perfect live-aboard boat for comfort, safety and style.
Until then, Caos will be our faithful friend through loads of more of excitement on the sea. I am, by the way, truly impressed by her ability to move this gracefully as she actually does, with all this extra weight we've collected for our tour.
P.S: Don't forget to check out our progress on
the tracker. We just left Vinaròs and are now on our way towards Cap de la Nau, 110 n miles from here.
/Taru
Right after we left our berth in Vinaròs for an 68 nm passage towards Valencia, we received an email from Gustavo Benavent, the manager of 
The Germans seem to be fast on the hot news. Again have the famous Segel Reporter published an article about our little world tour and summed up some information about us and the controversy we've created - and they're even taking it as far as calling us sailing celebrities - an interesting new epithet in our lives for sure.
Astonishing world, what have we done to deserve your beauty.
