e are sailing across the sea to Ireland, but we won’t see the sun go down on Galway Bay. At Foynes, our first port of call on the west coast though, we could drive down to see the ‘Rose of Tralee’.
I awake to a calm sunny morning on the North Atlantic on our first day since throwing off the ropes in St John’s, Newfoundland – with breakfast brought to the bed by the happy-go-lucky South African butler, Bronwin. Yes, he pours the tea too.
If it were a grey day, I would stay in bed with Roger Casement (the Irish nationalist hero, in my book, whose traitorous deeds I ‘m now starting to sympathise with). But alas, so sunny, I have to go up on deck and enjoy it.
Not another hot dog and cucumber relish by the pool for lunch today (to Pam’s horror yesterday)? But maybe yes, it was soooo good, even sitting, wrapped with a rug over my knees in the cold of St John’s harbour!
Life at sea ain’t so bad.
In his daily address from the bridge, Captain Luigi Rutigliano tells us the ocean beneath us is four kilometres deep. Also, there’s a bad storm off the west coast of Ireland and we’ll skip the stop at Foynes and sail on to the shelter of Cork and stay overnight.
The Galley Lunch is the highlight for today. Alaska King Crab claws take the place of my favourite Maryland claws, but I’ll survive.
Rolling and pitching in a 12 foot swell on a grey day at sea. Hasn’t bothered me yet as I choose to stay in the bed finishing my book. Perhaps I should get up for lunch.