An Aquarian’s thoughts in the Bermuda Triangle

November 16th, half past midnight, we are almost three days into our journey, the crew is asleep in their berths and it’s my turn to take the dog watch. Outside it is pitch black; no moon, a few stars and 26 degrees Celsius.The radar is empty of ships, as far as it’s eye can see. We are in the Bermuda Triangle, as most of you will know, a place where many ships and planes have disappeared without trace. That might explain this.


The last few days have been uncomfortable, the wind varying between a strong breeze and a moderate gale with high waves. Now it is a little quieter, 13 knots of wind and smaller waves.

Still the conditions hold us back. We are travelling at 6 knots through the water, a comfortable speed that means all below can get a good night’s sleep without the bumping about that quicker travel would bring.

We seem to be getting our sea legs. It is too early to to be sure, but we are able to keep our carefully chosen food and drink down … most of the time and some more than others. One or two of the crew have had a Cold Turkey experience the past couple of days.


Which brings me to a question that people keep asking, ‘What is the fun in what you are doing?’

Fun, what is fun? Tommy Cooper was fun, now he is no more.

Youp van het Hek [a Dutch cabaretier] was fun, though he’s still alive.

No, It’s no fun being here, I’m not rolling about on dek laughing.

But what is it then?

Ask a mountaineer climbing Everest. Why do you do it?

‘Because the mountain is there’, he’ll reply.

That is the way it is with the sea too. The sea is there to cross, swimming, rowing, sailing or in a motor boat, as we are now doing.

Am I enjoying myself? Yes, I certainly am.

Feeling small is also a way of enjoying one’s self.

That is a feeling that comes home to you when you are alone on an endless sea, miles from land in every direction with a burning red sun breaking through jet-black clouds as it drops below the horizon.

I’ll be happy to turn in soon though, snug in my bunk listening to the humming of the engines running tirelessly, never sick, always awake, taking me homewards to my wife, daughters, sons-in-law and my newly born granddaughter Pom.


Dear readers, I’m getting sentimental, it seldom happens but it takes me now.

It’s a beautiful day and we’re on the move.

At this pace we should reach Bermuda by Sunday afternoon.


Until the next time, regards from the whole crew, Edzard.

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