Larkabout 2009 The Larkin's World "Tantrum" tour 2008/2009.

There is some speculation that merely being present on a moving boat gives the body a measure of anaerobic exercise – this may be true but nevertheless we are all getting a tad floppy.  In my own defense I wonder whether my body had been holding itself relatively well together all year in anticipation of a return to its normal routine and has quietly but suddenly given up with a sigh. It has been harder than I thought to get motivated to establish some sort of programme  – it doesn’t help that it has been either stiflingly hot or blowing like a coke addict and hard to stay on your feet, and a few nights here and there hanging ten in the cockpit doing arm twirls doesn’t exactly cut the  mustard . One is hesitant about attempting some sort of pilates or similar for fear of remaining in an embarrassing posture for the long term. (Although Jack and I amused ourselves for a few minutes this morning freestanding in the galley while the boat was heeled over, in a stance reminiscent of trying to stay upright in Wellington in winter.)     (Or summer).
We have however been diligent about swimming when we are at a clean anchorage – Ashmore and Lizard – and walking as much as Bruce’s knee can stand when we are ashore.

The first night we left Lembongan we sailed at dusk into a cluster of small fishing boats, all lit and, we soon discovered, stationary. We navigated with care, hoping to be soon clear. It became soon apparent, however, that this was no isolated cluster, but part of a much bigger pattern – the boats kept appearing as we moved along, and there was no relief from alert watch till dawn. This is the third night now and we are just astonished at how many boats there are out here.  It is like navigating through space veerrrry sloooowwly, with each glow on the horizon taking ages to resolve itself into a light and us gliding past at, well , not exactly ludicrous speed.  And, let’s face it, not exactly gliding either – this is also the third night that we have alternated between having no wind (pas de vent, not a bleeding sausage, not a skerrick or even a bit) and gusts on the nose up to the 50 knot gale that Bruce had to deal with on his watch the night before last  – and so have been motoring donk donk donk for gosh is it that long.
I would love to see a satellite picture of us all. We are after all (now) in the middle of the Java Sea about 100 miles off the coast of Java and 350 miles from Sumatra.
Of course just as in space there are the random objects down here too like the meteoresque boat who appeared seemingly from nowhere about 50m to port –moving, no less- while I was down below plunging my coffee. One of the problems with these is that they give a very poor radar image as they are mostly wooden, and the lights from the little close ones can remain hidden in the swells. That is boats, not coffee pots.
Speaking of space objects, I don’t suppose now is the time to describe the bright pulsating light I saw twice earlier that was flitting erratically about 30 degrees in the sky and then abruptly disappeared? No? I thought not.