SV Kiviuq

A couple of days ago we finally felt that we were properly into the northeast tradewinds and so decided to make the course change to sail directly to the SE corner of Grenada. This meant sailing more directly downwind with the breeze fine on the starboard quarter, and a change of sailplan was required to accommodate this. We therefore gybed the jib and its pole to starboard, set the staysail to leeward and lowered the mainsail, giving us a classical twin headsail downwind rig.

One consequence of this was that I took to sleeping in a saloon berth rather than the aft cabin, mainly to have the benefit of a narrower berth with a leecloth for security, and also to get the benefit of the breeze funnelling into the saloon through the half open saloon hatch.

Thus it was that shortly after 0500hrs ship's time this morning I was sitting on the saloon berth with a mug of that finest of brews, Marks & Spencers Gold tea, which had been presented to me on being woken by Marilou as she finished her 0200-0500hrs watch. I was savouring the tea and slowly switching on cerebral circuitry in the dim cabin, lit only by the instruments at the chart table, when there was a thump overhead followed by a blow on the left thigh and the unexpected company of a thrashing and jumping creature on the berth next to me. The flying fish, for such it soon turned out to be, had made an aerial assault on Kiviuq, hit the underside of the saloon hatch, ricocheted onto my thigh and landed in my berth in a somewhat agitated state.

Interrogation revealed it had been a desperate attempt on my morning tea, but after providing a solemn undertaking not to attack anyone's morning tea in future, Kamikaze Kipper was returned to the ocean.

And not a drop of tea was shed.

All is well.