95 Beds for a fish

Continuing the theme of my last post which was regarding issues with 'catching', I now triumphantly present to you the first caught fish of my meander.

Size isn't everything

This was my first fish in 8,000 sea miles and trust me I had been trying.

Another recent milestone was achieved on April 21^st which marked two years on the road (Gypsy?). Nine months of the meander have been afloat, covering 10,700 sea miles. On land there has been almost 500 hours spent on buses, bouncing over approx 11,000 miles, 15 countries, 26 borders, 95 beds and on an average spend of £11 a day. And I am not even half way round yet.

Gypsy? – pass me my cardigan.

Halfway round, not a throw away phrase. Technically that's 180º west on the celestial sphere! Where? 

180º west of the center of the world of course – Greenwich U.K. This is a piece of British colonial pride that one must latch onto, especially whilst sitting here in awe of 'French' Polynesia. I'm currently in the Marquises, the most remote group of islands on the planet, wild.

Two years ago some German sailor got into to a argument with the locals and they ate him. Cannibalism has 'officially' ceased here but I've been told the odd neighborhood dispute can still end up with someone on the BBQ. Despite this these mouthwatering islands are immaculately maintained by the French and this does merit a pat on the frogs back, all be it a grudged one.

If 'Kronenbourg' made anchorages

It is the journey to them though that stitches this patchwork post, with its numbers navigation and fish together.

If one sails round the world by the favored route the passage to these islands involves the longest time spent without seeing land; a hefty 3100 nautical miles from the Galapagos. Equivalent of Glasgow to Dakar at an average of 5 miles per hour, which if you include going backwards for over a day, took us 29 days – over 4 weeks. It was a significant part of a year spent going on a point to point journey which sure puts that 32hr Bolivian bus ride into perspective.

Sunrise = Land Ahoy! Hiccup

Whilst sailing over the cuckoo's nest I managed to amuse myself, so sanity, I think was retained. In the sedate post lunchtime-beer afternoons I read more books than in the last two years and accompanying that was a good measure of 'BBC' Radio 4 Podcasts. In the mornings it was diary writing, translation of copious amounts of Spanish text and learning the art of celestial navigation (spatially, I'll never be the same again). Add fishing, cooking, avoiding skin cancer, staring, trimming the sails/ nails and repeatedly discussing the UK's welfare dependency culture, the UK's undemanding competition-less education system and please no more on the great taxation robbery. Phew. And I'll refrain from divulging more about night watches other than I didn't sleep for more than three consecutive hours the whole trip – that was a trip.

Highlight for me though was the following acquisition; after three years of looking at them every day and then seven years fishing for one on Scotland's rivers. . . fish number two and finally a photo worthy of the cover of Angling Times*.

Worthy post coital facial?

Still sane? Not so sure. . .

* Actually though probably not, as a while later I found out that this is, yes a big fish in my eyes but actually a fairly small example of the Mahi Mahi (a good one is 2-3 times bigger). Only merit though is that it was landed using 20lb line on a lightweight (7-30g) spinning rod (Daiwa Regal).

The fight felt like I had caught Jaws – just goes to show that everything in life is relative.