I’ve had so many nice messages about this blog, I’m feeling a little bowled over about it. Thank you, guys. It also makes my fingers go a bit quiet. Suddenly the pressure’s on! Ha! Hold on. Wait a good second. I’ve been writing shit for years, quietly enough in the boggy Borth background. I’ll continue there, if that’s ok with you. Where no one really cares. Ready fingers? Let’s go.

We woke up this morning in the boatyard to a Tropical Storm Warning. Her name is Karen. Hey Karen. I think this may be our fault – a little bit. We always bring the rain. When we arrived last week, we were told that Trinidad was in the middle of a drought. Uh, not anymore. You’re good – don’t have to thank us. Have some good Welsh rain on us.

Indeed, it feels like we’re in Borth this sleepy, wet Sunday afternoon. Jack even said wryly, ‘You better get used to the rain on a boat. Since this is what it’s going to be like when we sail Quest back.’

Fair point. And yet we hear there’s seriously beautiful weather at home. I saw a post about the sprats being driven onto Borth beach yesterday. Finally! Been waiting all season for that to happen – mackerel and other, larger fish driving the sprats ashore. It was going to happen. I’ve only seen this phenomenon once before in person, after another lush Cardigan Bay summer. Jack and his young nephews, Joe and Chris did well then, selling the fish the next morning. The buyer wasn’t too pleased though, once he discovered the glut of fish lying on the beach. Ok. It wasn’t right. Still, classic caveat emptor.

This summer’s been the same in Borth- minus the profit. Maybe that’s not a bad thing – at least we got a reprieve from the curse that fish buyer put on us. He definitely cursed us! This time, we’ve had armies of jellyfish in our bay, one surprised sunfish ☀️, bottlenose dolphins, porpoise and I’m sure leatherback turtles too, eating the jellyfish. We just don’t see the turtles – they don’t draw attention to themselves. Borth’s diving birds draw enough of it for everyone. As well as the huge flocks of Manx shearwaters who came in from South America and stayed right offshore. Silent as monks. I don’t mind going home to that. To Cardigan Bay. It might be the only way to stop this rain.