Sailing the Atlantic Ocean, Our Halfway Milestone and Arrival in Grenada.

Day 8: Saturday, 25th – Routine, Sweet Routine
By Day 8, we were officially in the groove: sleep, eat, steer, repeat. Not much to report today—just a lot of staring at the horizon, keeping the boat moving, and laughing at how quickly “the usual” has become our new normal. Honestly, the highlight was probably the snacks.

Day 9: Sunday, 26th – Halfway to Glory
Today marked a major milestone: we hit the halfway point! Well, technically a bit over halfway—only 1000 nautical miles to go. How many people can say they’ve crossed half the Atlantic Ocean? Not many, and we’re feeling pretty chuffed about it. The mood onboard was celebratory, with lots of “can you believe it?” moments and maybe a few wobbly attempts at dancing (blame the swells, not the crew).

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Day 10: Monday, 27th – Brownies to the Rescue
When you’re halfway across the Atlantic, you need things to look forward to—so today was officially Brownie Day. Sure, it was a box mix, but when you’re on a boat in the middle of nowhere, a warm brownie with whipped cream feels like a Michelin-starred dessert. Baking reminded me how much I love it, even if the galley doesn’t quite match my dream kitchen. Other than that, it was a calm, uneventful day—a gift in itself when you’re this far out.

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During my watch I saw something Pink and thought it was some kind o rubbish but no it was Portuguese Man o’war. This jellyfish is quite dangerous here is a link about the jellyfish.

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Day 11: Tuesday, 28th – Cleaning Lists and Tropical Skin
In my cleaning frenzy, I tackled the salt and rust on the trampoline today. I only got halfway through because the sun was blazing, and my Icelandic skin was waving the white flag. Sunscreen, hats, sunglasses—none of it stops the sun from reminding me that I wasn’t designed for the tropics. Still, I love it.

The closer we get to land, the more my brain has shifted into cleaning mode. I started making a list of things to tackle post-arrival—because let’s face it, four days on my hands and knees scrubbing corners with a toothbrush isn’t something I can do solo this time. Everyone will have their jobs, and this boat will sparkle.

Day 12: Wednesday, 29th – Goodbye, Fresh Produce
Ian played chef this morning, whipping up a hearty brunch of omelettes, mushrooms, and baked beans for everyone. For dinner, I made one of my favorite Mexican dishes, which the crew loved. But today marked the end of an era—we’re officially out of fresh veggies. From now on, it’s all canned and frozen. A small price to pay for the adventure, I suppose.

On the brighter side (pun intended), we made water today using our water maker! There’s something almost magical about turning seawater into fresh, drinkable water right in the middle of the Atlantic. It’s a little thing, but moments like this remind us how self-sufficient we’ve become out here.

Day 13: Thursday, 30th – Time Travel and Big Winds
We’ve been on UTC since leaving Las Palmas, but today we decided it was time to change the clocks. Grenada is -4 UTC, so instead of hitting that time shift all at once when we arrive, we moved our clocks forward today. That meant a long, long day. Honestly, it felt like the day just wouldn’t end!

As the new time kicked in, sunset came earlier—around 6 p.m. instead of the leisurely 9 p.m. we’d gotten used to. It was just after 5:20 p.m. when we spotted some big, ominous clouds building behind us. Cue the panic. We made the quick decision to take down the parasailor (because nobody wants to mess with that in a squall) and switched back to the trusty white sails.

With everything sorted, we sat down for dinner, thinking we’d outsmarted the weather. But as soon as I crawled into bed, the boat started rocking like mad. The wind was howling, and waves were slamming against us—it was chaos. I jumped out of bed to find out what was happening, and wouldn’t you know it, we’d hit our first squall of the trip.

Wind speeds shot up to anywhere between 22 and 32 knots true—easily the biggest we’ve seen so far. Thank goodness we’d taken down the parasailor; I shudder to think what might have happened otherwise. The squall was intense but short-lived, and as quickly as it came, it passed. I managed to crawl back into bed, trying to catch some sleep before my midnight watch.

Day 14: Wednesday, 1st December – Rain Showers and Boat Showers
Woke up early today, and for the first time in what feels like forever, I didn’t feel like a zombie. Changing the clocks to Grenada time seems to be working its magic. Waking up at 6 a.m. with the sunrise does make everything feel a bit brighter (literally and metaphorically).

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Around 9 a.m., we got hit by a squall, and it absolutely chucked it down with rain. The boys were at the helm, while I ran around frantically trying to keep things out of the rain and reeling in the fishing line. On the upside, the boat got a much-needed wash—less salt onboard now, hurrah!

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But here’s where today really got special. My lovely friend Sophie, who saw us off in Las Palmas, had given me a bag of wrapped presents before we set sail. Each gift was labeled with a specific day, meaning I wasn’t allowed to open them until the assigned time. Of course, today was one of those days, so I excitedly opened my Day 14 gift—and wow

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It’s little things like this that make the journey feel so much more special. Even though Sophie isn’t here in person, her thoughtfulness reminds me of the incredible people we’ve had supporting us every step of the way. Thank you, Sophie—you’re the best!

Day 15: Thursday, 2nd – Countdown to Land
With just one day to go, I baked a cake to celebrate our impending arrival. The excitement was palpable. This would be our last sunset at sea, and we savoured every moment of it, knowing that tomorrow we’d finally spot land.

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Day 16: Friday, 3rd – Arrival Day
The day didn’t start as we’d hoped. At 6 am, the wind wasn’t playing nice, and the waves were downright annoying. After some tea and biscuits (pancakes), we made the call to drop the sails and reevaluate our plan. As a sailing vessel—especially a catamaran—going exactly where you want isn’t always possible.

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Eventually, the wind cooperated, and we hoisted the parasail for the final stretch and put up our Grenada flag and the quarantine flag

Just as we approached the finish line, our family flew overhead in a plane, giving us the most incredible welcome. It was like something out of a movie, and I may have shed a little tear.

Crossing the line, we were greeted in Grenada with a well-earned rum punch in hand. After 16 days at sea, we’d done it. The Atlantic was behind us, and the adventure of a lifetime was complete.

Now bring on the Caribbean season.