Preparation, 27 – 29 August 2025
We didn’t leave ourselves much time to get ready for our new adventure as our last paying guests at our AirBnB in France, Point de Vue, didn’t vacate until Monday 25 August.
Tuesday was spent travelling back to London, with Peter setting off to Kirsten’s to pick up Lynne’s flat keys (a must-have for our hectic schedule). Wednesday through Friday was very busy rushing around London buying or collecting items for the trip. In Peter’s case this involved 3 more trips to Camden, one of which was to literally take Kirsten’s Polar Latitudes waterproof jacket off her back, as he had mistakenly left his in France! Good job it used to belong to Lynne so Peter could wear Lynne’s jacket. Annoyingly it took four attempts to return some trousers that didn’t fit Lynne which she had ordered on-line, and then she had to scour London for a suitable alternative.
We diligently read the manual we’d been sent as part of our joining instructions and took the time to practise tying the four knots that would suffice. We’d bought sailing boots and gloves and unearthed trekking gear, which would prove useful on this adventure. We packed on the basis that everything would get wet and we’d need a second item; boy were we right!
As for our fitness, we had both stubbed a toe three weeks’ earlier and hadn’t been able to wear shoes until the flight back to London, which was painful. We began to get nervous that we had overcommitted ourselves!
We found time in London to enjoy supper and some excellent red wine at the Cork & Bottle with Kirsten who was setting off very early on Saturday for La Coste to host a party of 16 there for 9 days. Meanwhile, we had a mid-afternoon flight to Iceland on Saturday, and Kirsten was firmly ensconced at La Coste before we even boarded our flight.
Iceland, 30 August – 1 September
We had a leisurely travel day to Reykjavik, with Lynne fitting in a much-needed massage in the morning before leaving London. As luggage, we both had our daypacks, in anticipation of hiking when ashore. We also chose our yellow North Face duffel bag (10kg), that could be worn as a backpack, and a large soft wheelie ski bag (21kg). Packing included bath towels, bed under sheets, and sleeping bags!
We met some of our fellow crew members at the boarding gate in Gatwick Airport, but set off separately to our various accommodation in Reykjavik for the night. Some were planning on meeting up for dinner, but we had an early morning flight to Egilsstadir and didn’t join them. Peter had booked a pleasant hotel near the domestic airport, where we enjoyed a light bar supper before retiring.
We had a marvellous view of the Reykjavik landmark, Perlan. Situated on a hill it consists of six very large cylinder tanks, providing super hot geothermal water to the city below, with a huge glass lattice dome on top. Peter visited Perlan thirty-five years ago, to consult on the lighting of the dome, as it was constructed. The dome was to be a revolving restaurant (with superb city views), which since has evolved to include a museum, exhibitions and a cocktail bar.
Despite the hotel being close to the domestic airport, we still needed a taxi to skirt the perimeter of the airport. Here, we met some more crew members, whilst we got breakfast in the little airport café.
Shipmates in waiting Glorious morning
The Icelandair Bombardier Q409 propeller plane took off on time, with us and a whole football team of excited young men, heading eastwards. We landed in a cold, blustery and sharply drizzling Egilsstadir, where we convened with our fellow crew members around the luggage carousel.
Our hotel had advised us that we could take the 10.25am bus into town, but we discovered that it doesn’t run on a Sunday and the only two taxis in this little town were busy ferrying other crew members to the marina where our boats were, a good 30 minutes’ drive away.
So, rain covers on backpacks, we set off on a nearly 2km hike to the Berjaya hotel. We rested in the bar-lobby, drying off, before getting our room key cards, just before noon. Just to think we had taken a bus to the tube station in London on Saturday to avoid a 10 minute walk!
We could have stayed the night on the boat as we discovered all the other crew members did, but Lynne rather relished one more night in a warm double bed with an en-suite.
We enjoyed our day in Egilsstadir, managing to use a supermarket self-checkout machine (in Icelandic), climbing a crag by the lake and finding a great restaurant for dinner. It was cold and wet most of the day and our waterproofs came in most useful. It was clear to us that autumn had arrived , but there were other visitors dressed as if it were still summer!
Velkomin!
Monday morning saw us take our pre-booked taxi to Seydisfjordur, to find our boat, across hills through dramatic cloud swept landscapes and stunning waterfalls. The driver was chatty, and regaled us with one of Iceland’s famous ‘Sagas’ on the way. Exiting the taxi, Peter took the opportunity to sing the dramatic Swedish song about Iceland to our forbearing driver; “Vilar i vita skummande vågor, stolt som i sagan, sagornas ö…”
All aboard, 1 September
Bluejay (our boat), Skipper, Mate and the rest of the crew were already aboard and ready for our crew briefing 15 minutes after our arrival. The morning consisted of learning the ropes below deck and literally so above deck.
Imogen, our Mate, instructed half of us on the important aspects on deck – and there was a lot. From the bow to the stern, there were lockers, stowed sails, life rafts, cleats, clutches, pulleys, ropes and more ropes. One of the most important instructions, to take dead seriously, was how to operate the winches.
The sail management was designed so that most operations could be done from the safety of the cockpit, towards the aft of the boat, so we were taught how to safely use the winches – coil, lock in the ‘tailer’, ease and grind (minding your pinkies…), and finally add a safety double-loop.
Our group swapped with the other, to be inducted to the below-deck facilities by the Skipper, Phoebe. Shimmying down the companionway led us to a small vestibule, with entrances (no doors) to the navigation room, galley, skipper bunk and a head (toilet), as well as a table and benches for ‘indoor comforts (ha!)’, leading further into the interior, bunks, main head (with wash hand basin and shower tap) and forward stowage lockers.
The navigation toom looked comfortingly high tech, with radar and navigation displays, as well as boat technical readouts. Here was also found the boat log, that had to be completed with boat position, speed, course, battery level, etc., on the hour, every hour throughout our sailing.
The skipper, being ultimately responsible for the boat, is bunked opposite with an entrance with a zipped tarpaulin for privacy, with a tiny head next door, also with a zipped tarpaulin. The vestibule was a busy place, with all the traffic, but made even more so, with a rack to hang everybody’s ‘Foulies’ – oilskins for foul weather. Getting them, and, for some, thermal ‘Fladen’ suits, on and off required Herculean strength, patience and much foul language, as the boat was mostly buffeted by rough seas, and we literally had no legs to stand on at times!
Then, the Galley. Everything well stowed to take into account rough seas. Most alarmingly, there was a solid gas oven with two burners. The whole oven was gimballed, so swings to keep flat (somewhat). It was awesome seeing that big piece of oven swinging around, with a full shelf in the oven and two big pots secured on the burners… There was a strap, with which the cook of the day could secure him/herself, as anything otherwise would be impossible. When the boat was heeled over, often by over 30 – 35 degrees, and violently bashing about, we were cooking hot food for eleven of us – sometimes deliciously, sometimes not – but always gratefully.
The bench on one side of the table also housed provisions: tinned tuna, pesto, salt, breakfast cereals, rice, biscuits, flour…. It was quite a job finding what we needed! Under the bench on the other side was the engine, looked after by the skipper every time we left an overnight mooring.
Squeezing past the table and benches, we passed through a bulkhead door to the accommodation area. The central area had eight bunks arranged in pairs, one above the other. The centre of the space had a rail, where everybody’s lifejackets were hanging, when not used.
Further forward, through another bulkhead door, were two more used bunks, with every other available space taken up by boat storage. Further on was the locked bulkhead door to the rope locker, holding sail covers, fenders, and painter ropes (for fastening the boat to land).
As we were inducted to the essentials of the boat, we discovered that we were not going to have a relatively easy 2 days sailing around the coastline of Iceland, acclimatising ourselves to the sea and the boat, but rather set off as soon as practicable for the Faroe Islands on account of the weather en-route. Gale force winds were expected.
We were issued with our Foulies and life vests, with tethers, to prevent us falling overboard. We, as the late-comers were feeling a bit pressured to unpack and sort our gear out, when the day was pretty packed and everyone else was unpacked already. The lockers for our luggage were damp; we were glad that we had packed our clothes in plastic bags and dry bags, although Lynne discovered one of our stuff bags was not waterproof, leaving her the challenge of drying the contents!
