After leaving Conception Island, we sailed in light winds south east down past Rum Cay. Raising Herb on the SSB radio, he advised us to head further north, as there were strong 20+ knot winds developing to the south. Herb is a respected meteorologist whose hobby is interpreting the weather and advising passage-makers on their routing. Once you contact Herb for advice, you check in with him every day of the passage with your location, and he suggests your next waypoint. Herb is so good he's received the Order of Canada for his outstanding volunteer work, and I'm told that even the navy consults with him. Having his expert advice gave us confidence and a real sense of safety for this first real major ocean passage. (We also listened to weather reports from Chris Parker on the SSB each morning, so our new technology stood us in good stead.) So even though we had the Virgin Islands in mind as our destination, north-east we went, circumnavigating Rum Island and sailing south of San Salvadore Island just in time to see the New Year's Eve fireworks on shore.

On day 2, we experienced being almost becalmed, a wonderful opportunity to do some boat tasks and wash ourselves in a benign Atlantic Ocean, followed by a fresh water rinse on deck. While on passage, you have to take advantage of every possible opportunity to get clean! The Atlantic is amazing, and on this day, she was as innocent and lovely as it's possible for this massive, moody, and complex body of water to be. The deep, glowing, almost royal blue was so clear Ralph could see his lure a long way down, and as I dunked myself off the back ladder, I was fascinated by rays of light, just like in a child's drawing, spreading from a point deep below. It was as though a mini sun had fallen into the sea, and was shining up at me from the depths. We wished for wind, though, and as they say, be careful what you wish for.

On Tuesday, the winds veered to North East, strengthened, and we experienced a few squalls. We could see the front on the horizon, approaching fast, and even though it was forecast to be relatively benign and short lived, with winds only to 15 knots gusting 17 or 18, we decided it would be prudent to reef the main and partially furl our huge genoa. As they teach us in CPS, if you're thinking of reefing it's already too late, or in this case, just in time. NEVER rely on the winds being only as strong as forecast. When the front hit, it was steady at 18 knots gusting to 24. This really is nothing for a cold front, and not even approaching a gale, but it taught me I have no wish to ever be at sea in gale force winds.

Each day for the balance of our passage, the winds held steady at 15-18 with gusts to 25, and swells that Ralph judged to be 15 feet with wind driven chop on top. I couldn't believe that I wasn't seasick, even though each time we were on a different point of sail, I felt queasy until my body adjusted to the new motion. We did 3 hours watches around the clock, with our 3rd crew member, Otto, doing much of the steering. (We named the Autopilot in honour of our son... "Otto"-pilot, get it?) Grabbing sleep whenever we off watch, we remained reasonably rested and well fed. I even made onion-cheese pan bread one day, but I regretted the one time I let Ralph in the galley to make his own coffee. He neglected to put his coffee mug, topped with the drip filter, on the gimballed stove (which swings to remain level), and just as he was about to grab for it, mug and filter slid down the counter, tipped, and sent coffee grounds splashing all over the galley. With everything he had to deal with on passage (like climbing on top of the radar arch in the middle of the night to secure the wind generator, which was free-wheeling in the gusts, or putting the steering wheel back on when it hit the deck), I think it was the only time I saw him lose patience or heard him swear.

Don't believe the map... although it shows a straight line from Conception Island to P.R., we sailed mostly due east to Longitude 65, and then turned south. We were 8 days at sea, 6 of them with a fully reefed main and partially furled headsail, and even with reduced sail we surfed along at upwards of 7 knots. I don't think Ralph will ever again be satisfied with inland sailing on Lake Ontario, and we both really enjoyed the ocean. You would think it all looks the same, but it's ever changing, beautiful, and fascinating. We could have used a little less bouncing around, though, and I am covered in bruises from falling against things, even though I held on whenever I moved around the boat. Knowing that a tidy boat is a safe boat, I tried to keep things in reasonable order below decks, but with soggy salt-splashed clothing draped everywhere, it soon looked like a gale had gone through.

When we were about 100 miles from our target of the Spanish Virgin Islands, the bolt holding the air filter in place sheared off and the filter ended up in pieces on the floor of the engine well. That was something that couldn't be fixed without the proper tools, so we altered course for Marina Del Rey in Fajardo, Puerto Rico. It's the largest marina in the Caribbean, with 1000 slips and a boatyard and machine shop on site, with a well marked entry channel. Just after midnight on January 8, we docked at Marina Del Rey under a full moon and collapsed into bed. When we woke up the next morning, we looked out the hatch and beheld a vista of boats basking in sunshine against a backdrop of lush hills. It was absolutely beautiful, and I fell in love with Puerto Rico that moment. The next 2 days we spent desalinating Altona and ourselves: we scoured the boat inside and out, and I did 6 loads of laundry. Once doused in salt water, things just don't dry, and everything felt sticky and damp with salt. I'm telling you, there are few things in life that feel as good as a shower after a sea voyage!

Our plan now is to spend a month or so cruising Puerto Rico and the nearby Virgin Islands: Spanish, U.S., and British. Each island is a short hop away from the one before, so no more major passages for now, and we can't wait to explore!