Carousel Waltz

I´m back in the Doghouse. The sea is just as unforgiving as it was at the start of the previous leg. Worse, actually. So much so, that at times, Steve and I have been almost completely unable to make, much less enjoy, our afternoon tea. Almost - we´d be hard pressed to lose our tea.

Sometime in the late afternoon, Steve is looking fine, but suggesting he is in some discomfort. As he´s calmly putting on his life jacket and tether - in the dark, and in rugged waves, we like to be tethered to the boat, to avoid briny death - making himself ready to pop outside. Suddenly my eyes are wide with horror and I'm scrambling out from in front of him. His cheeks puff out and his calm attempt to climb into the jacket is abandoned in favour of throwing himself outside and towards the edge. It´s not a pretty sight, but I´m still having a nice time.

We´re cautiously passing through a fishing fleet of squid jiggers. After dark, we're reduced to radar. I´m looking at fifteen little arrows all around us in a five mile radius. I´m periodically concerned about the ones that are drifting in and out of our path, having been given instruction that they're unlikely to get out of our way. Out of the window, each one is blinding us, firing what must be 1.21 gigwatts of light down at the water - a method for attracting squid.

Off the length of their port and starboard, they have rows of rotating conveyor belt-like lines with upturned claw-like hooks that scoop squid up and dump them onboard before another rotation. The whole place is lit up like a fairground. It´s pretty, sort of.