North to Nova Scotia

Today, weather permitting we plan to head north towards Halifax in Nova Scotia Canada. Maybe 6 days ish at sea.  We will depart before the England football starts. Sacrifices. Dave keeps checking, ‘do you really want to go north?’ as we swim in warm sea water and prat about on our paddle boards. Well its time for a change.

There’s a raft of safety things to,tick off…..rig check, bilge pumps, grab bag, electronic charts working etc etc

I’ve made a big pot of stew and some bread in preparation. Both worthy contributions I believe.

Red dot should start moving when we head off. Some friends have the same red dot system as ours and theirs stopped working about a day out from Bermuda. Is that triangle thing working it’s mysterious magic? More likely a dodgy bit of electronics.

Looking forward to being back moving and catching some atlantic fish.

preperati0n for going to sea


On the 25th June 2018 we will have been aboard full-time for 2 years or 24 months or 730 days. That’s how long we’ve been living in a space, 43 foot by 12 foot, at its widest part, our floating home. Not massive. It only works as it moves around. And we spend lots of time outside. Seeking out interesting, attractive places where possible.

We have many of the systems and niceties you have in your home; hot and cold running water, loo (x2 in fact) shower, gas cooker, fridge, freezer, stereo, car….(well dinghy), spare bedroom, heating, bbq, email, matching crockery and and a few random kitchen utensils that have bought thinking, oh they’ll be useful but of course aren’t after you’ve used them twice.

Our two year anniversary. It could be deemed an occasion for wise poignant words. Nah. I don’t have any to share, so I will prattle on in my usual way. But with a warm feeling inside as this feels like a positive anniversary to celebrate.

Two years away. With occasional trips back to the UK, 5 for me, 1 for Dave. Some real highs, some downers, some incredibly happy times plus a few sad ones. No different to living in a cottage or a house or a caravan. We’re still here, (Bermuda being here st the moment), enjoying the lifestyle, with aspirations to go further.

On our sketchy timetable when we left the UK, we are at least a year behind where we thought we’d be, maybe even two as we had this mad idea we’d be through Panama in spring 2017. That was a ridiculous thought. Too soon, too many places to stop and enjoy, too many unknowns about the boat and her general health and too much time at sea rather than enjoying the land when you reach it.

When I started writing this tome, can a blog be a tome? I had no idea how long I’d be motivated to keep it up. Thankfully it doesn’t feel like a monster that hangs over me, that needs feeding constantly or that’s impossible to let go of. It’s a fine record of where we’ve been, a little of what we’ve done and what I was thinking about at the time. Apart from you supadoopa regulars who tune in, thanks folks, I have no idea exactly who looks at it. Who does digest these words? I’ll likely never know.


i have to selfishly make reference to this so when I look back in 10 years time, I can remember such an occasion. England scored 6 goals in a World Cup match. Boom.

Me watching football






Early Early

A start early, finish early party. I get it. Sounds great. I’m now in category four when you have to tick a box as to how old you are. You know the data collecting drudgery, I mean when it’s better for your soul to lie and forget the ageing truth. Also I bloody well hate all those data collecting companies so I’d rather lie and bugger up their statistics. There’s no benefit to me. Why should I tell the truth? Similarly, if I’ve just bought a lawn mower, don’t target me with advertisements for lawn mowers. I’ve just bought one you lowly imbeciles who design web marketing.

Anyway, back to the story, this is turning into Ronnie Corbett like ramblings.

Starting early makes infinite sense to me so bedtime remains the same. Ha. A start early party in Bermuda starts EARLY.

We were anchored just off a small island in Hamilton harbour and at 5am, boom boom, my slumber is rudely awakened. An early start to the day can be invigorating, joyful, a recognition that by waking up early you can cram more good stuff into your day, be that drinking tea quietly for the first two hours or for example, analysing the mad recent North Korea / America love in.

This wake up was ratty, unnecessary, sour and furthermore the music was crap. I know Bermuda isn’t strictly in the Caribbean. It’s a North Atlantic Island. But it feels closer to the Caribbean than Slough. Classic reggae music would sit okay with me. The temperature makes it sweaty so moving slowly in a languid fashion to the beat makes sense. But hip hop inspired reggae should be hung drawn and quartered. Perhaps web marketeers and hip hop reggae writers could buddy up and self implode somewhere. Ideally quietly and without a fuss please.

So the tunes were done by lunchtime. 5am to 12 noon. That’s a start early, finish early party. We went to the library and worked. The library is tip top in my opinion. A whole room had been set aside for World Cup football watching. A darkened room, an eight foot screen, air conditioning. Well done Bermuda. You get libraries. I now know where I’ll be watching England when they play their first match.

Sailing wise, we had a gentle four hour sail round from St Georges to Hamilton. As it’s the weekend we’ve come to spend the time among a group of islands just a couple of miles from Hamilton but its much quieter and a good low key weekend destination for swimming and paddle boarding.

Plan is to start to weather watch before we make a run North, about 750 Miles towards Halifax Nova Scotia.

Small World

My first night back was not quite as chilled and relaxing as I’d planned. We’d had a lazy afternoon and evening, the weather being hot and sultry so a squall was not unexpected.

We were down below avoiding the pinging rain when there was a thud. Or a thump, not sure which. We both scrambled out onto the deck and the noise was a boat that had dragged it’s anchor, coming into contact with our bow sprit. No one was onboard and while Dave tried to push the boat away, I tied fenders quickly down the guard rails to protect Grace.

Two other eagled eyed sailor folks had jumped in their tenders, one rowing another motoring to get across to us and help. Thankfully we suffered no damage and the naughty boat was re-anchored with the help of our fellow sailing superstars.

By this time we were all soaked to the skin and keen to talk to the boat’s owner to explain what had happened. So a round of gin and tonics later, a guy turned up out of the darkness, no doubt perplexed as his boat wasn’t in the same place as he’d left it. Thankfully, he moved behind everyone so should the same happen again, he’d not be our problem. Relief all round.

Today, our rowing saviour came over for a chat. A Frenchman from Brittany. We chinwagged about our love of the Brittany coast and the Spanish Rias. Then he mentioned he’d spent time on his boat down in the Falklands. Turns out he spent time down there with our good friends, the Kiwi’s, Phil and Linda. Small world.

Day two back was much more relaxed. We got our new inflatable paddle boards out of their wrappers and went for a mini expedition around Smiths Island which sits in St Georges Bay, Bermuda. We bumped into a chap, not literally, we had more control than that, who runs a market garden business but used to own a Hans Christian 43. In fact he’d sailed it to Australia. Commonalities lead to story swapping and we hope a food parcel will arrive for us with lots of fresh veggies in the next few days! We are a bit short of fresh goodies.

What else? We went for a swim before breakfast today and a chap snorkelling nearby got stung by a Portuguese Man of War jellyfish. His skin rose in welts like whip lines and his face scrunched in pain. Make a note to avoid these beasties. They are pain inflicting blighters.

And our new gas bbq works a treat. It was gift from the Kenny and Nancy who run the boatyard in North Carolina. Pork loin in teriyaki sauce for dinner. Pity it’s not self cleaning. That’s an ask too far.






Revelations (not the religious kind)

I love a revelation. I don’t mean a Daily Mail headline or a reality show splurg. More finding out a surprising or previously unknown fact about someone you know.

There’s a guy who I worked with recently on my UK work trip whose day job is delivering training. In chatting to him, I discovered that his hobby away from work is writing. Sci-fi. Not only does he write, but he’s recently been published. I’d never have guessed that this guy was a writer. Impressive!

I subsequently found myself thinking about this and how everyone has a unique backstory. It was a jolt for me, a reminder to keep an open mind and find out more about poeple that I come into contact with. There are some amazing understated talented people out there.

I’m writing this on the train to London, before the flight to New York and onwards back to Bermuda.  I haven’t seen dave for three weeks which is a long time when we spend all our time together on the boat. There are pros and cons to this which I will let you deduce!

Bermuda has its attractions but the UK countryside looks stunning at the moment. The trees are full and lush, often majestic. The green of the vegetation intense.

Last week I worked in Southern Ireland and this week an area called The Roaches in Staffordshire. In between I camped on the south coast for a couple of nights with friends, walked around the Malvern Hills with Sis and her family and had a brief sojourn in Welsh Wales. Everywhere made me smile looking out across water or hills or rocks.

There is an argument to say, why bother sailing off to distant places when your home is a green and pleasant land. Its a robust and substantive point of view. However the drive to explore more and see fresh places still burns bright.