A muscly bonus for keen workers

Gym addicts like me might often wonder if the early morning dedication really is worth the early alarm, the getting out from under while it’s still dark and the

rest of the neighbourhood sleeps.

Added to that is the temperature – predicted to be freezing in the morning – which means a considerable freshen-up as I cycle the ten minutes to my 90-minute madness, er, exercising.

I’ve attended the same gym for the last ten years.

It’s changed hands more than once with the offered equipment changing, too, thanks to different approaches to what’s best for adults who seek a healthy life.

Rowing machines

Once there were four rowing machines, one of which was a magical ‘water rower’. The number fell to one basic machine and now, under the present administration, there are two.

It’s a natural machine for a yachtsman, of course, (and a professional mariner as I was) even though the desire is to stay with the vessel rather than take to the briny with oars.

I did have to do that, though, when the yacht I was sailing in a Guinness Book of Records bid turned over in a South Atlantic storm.

It’s very interesting to see other oldies come and go at the gym. A few remain dedicated, too, but many do seemingly suddenly feel their age and abandon what perhaps oughtn’t be abandoned.

For instance, an article from Healthline dot com reminds us that including gym practice in a lifestyle is really important.  … Continues on the blogs for my ocean adventuring book, Sailing to Purgatory, at
http://sailingtopurgatory.com/index.php/feeds/469-a-muscly-bonus-for-keen-workers

English justice goes wonky yet again

A police woman is sent a questionable sex video. Her mobile phone seems to show that she hasn’t seen it, knows nothing of it, in fact. The video had been

sent to 17 people and yet the one uniformed woman is prosecuted.

Pretty weird, you might think, very strange indeed. And the high-ranking police officer is tried, if the justice term could be used, at just about the most expensive venue in Britain, the Old Bailey.

And humans being humans, we could be forgiven for wondering about part of the story that is kept hidden.

Only that’s not my reaction for I know from personal experience that English justice – the envy of the world – can be mighty devious indeed.

Swallowing-the-anchor

I sailed a very long swallowing-the-anchor voyage at the conclusion of my international yachting career.

I crossed the Atlantic, from west to east. Near the Caribbean, a tropical revolving storm approached and I took refuge in St Lucia island.

Although in my nautical work I knew well the ways of Customs, I had never endured such a grilling and searching that those ill-mannered, utterly unpleasant people subjected me to.

Eventually, they admitted not a sign of any drugs existed, and I was released. I sailed towards home, England.

I returned to Britain in August to look after my then nine-year-old daughter for her school holidays. I was ambushed – we were ambushed.

In the Bay of Biscay, the mainsail tore, leaving me no option but to turn away and sail south.

As my book Sailing to Purgatory tells, the sail was repaired in Madeira. Too late in the season now to try to reach Britain, I sailed solo south, down through the Trades and the Doldrums and through the Roaring Forties to the Cape.

We were ambushed

I returned to Britain in August to look after my then nine-year-old daughter for her school holidays. I was ambushed – we were ambushed. …. Continues on the blogs for my ocean adventuring book, Sailing to Purgatory, at
http://sailingtopurgatory.com/index.php/feeds/468-english-justice-goes-wonky-yet-again

Rod offers some br-x-t beating beams

Back in commercial yachtmaster days, I was commissioned to take a once beautiful ocean-going yacht from Portugal to the Cape. It was not exactly the straight-forward voyage I expected.

I knew Thunderbird from some years earlier when I delivered to St Helena island.

She was a fine vessel, well prepared and in very good order for the voyage which was a really pleasant, and upon an ocean in a remarkably benevolent mood.

However, when I arrived at the Portuguese port to sail her alone to South Africa - a seven-week voyage I anticipated - the yacht showed a distinct lack of maintenance.

Tender loving care

The tender loving care usually lavished on such a smart possession had been very noticeably overlooked.

Give or take this or that, she seemed seaworthy, and I sailed off solo.

There’s nothing like an ocean to show up a vessel’s faults. Soon it was clear that she was never going to be sailed solo all that way.

After a week or so, I accepted the obvious and sailed into the Canary Islands to find crew. I phoned good friend Gerry Adamson in Hampshire, who had been such a help with the preparation of Spirit of Pentax for my singlehanded circumnavigation.

She knew just the person, a recommended and reliable fellow, even if he lacked sailing experience.

Rod must have lots of seafaring in his blood for he adapted to sailoring remarkably quickly and soon proved himself to be just about the perfect crewman.

Running repairs

We made Cape Town in excellent time in spite of a number of running repairs along the way. … Continues on the blogs for my ocean adventuring book, Sailing to Purgatory, at
http://sailingtopurgatory.com/index.php/feeds/467-rod-offers-some-br-x-t-beating-beams