Olve's report from the Bay of Biscay included the following: "...engine failure, genoa torn to pieces in 25 m/s (50 knots) wind, waves about 5-6 meters high..."
And Aitor added: " More problems with engine. And I'm pretty sure that it was not the time to go to the sea. We should go when the weather is good to go. Anyway, nothing runs ok."
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| Bay of Biscay - before the storm. |
“The goal of life’s journey is not to arrive at the grave safely, in a well preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways, totally worn out, shouting ‘Holy shit, what a ride!'” This is a philosophy I would like, in theory, to follow. But I am certainly not doing so at the moment. I look at the photos from the boat I am no longer on and I have mixed feelings. I left. I felt I had to. I know it was the right decision for me. I am sure of this. I had no desire to sail this fall into one storm after another on a boat on which everything kept breaking down because the schedule was so tight that there was no time to fix things properly or wait for good weather. (I would NOT have been happy sailing at 50 knots with no power, not once, not repeatedly.) But, but, but... part of me is envious. IF I had stayed, and lived, I would have been so so very proud of myself. Back in Deep River, supply teaching, I am safe but bored. I look at their photos and feel, yet again, old. And conflicted. What is life for if not for living to the max? But I know I made the right decision to leave. I do not have the skill or self-confidence for such extreme experience at this time. I might never. But, but, but...
