SawasdeeKat

hen, the wind deserted us. It didn't just die down; it left a note, moved out, and changed its number. The sea became a vast, oily mirror, leaving us no choice but to motor. For 25 miles, the engines were our only soundtrack.

The Adriatic here shifted through a spectrum of blues that defied simple description. From a pale, milky aquamarine over the white sand to a deep, resonant sapphire where the sea grass forests swayed. It was the kind of water you see on a postcard and assume has been digitally enhanced, but here it was, real and shimmering, cradling our hull like we were floating in a vast, tranquil aquarium.

"Time and tide weather the Body's vessel, but it is our own choice that decides whether we set sail for adventure or lie at anchor watching life from the harbour" Sat here typing this blog I want to first say a big “ Welcome back to Sawasdeekat ”, my personal, and fly-on-the-wall account of our sailing adventures as we (Pookie and I) try to get our catamaran round the world.   We left you last episode in Monfalcone which had been our home, our dusty, industrious nest for the

A Weekly Blog of the crazy and often expensive misadventures of Heath and his MasterChef wife Pookie as they try to sail around the world.

If you recall our last thrilling instalment – a saga involving frigates playing target practice, customs officials with the moral compass of a weathervane in a hurricane, and an engine that abandoned its post with the cowardice of a ship’s rat

You don’t own a boat; you join a cult.

(and Why We Almost Joined a Montenegrin Chain Gang) Not me sleeping on a hammock... People ask us, with a glint of envy in their eyes and...

A tasty trip to Thailand and Kuala Lumpur Well, hello again, you glorious land-dwellers. Heath here, reporting from the front lines of a...

We’d settled into the rhythm of Porto Montenegro like a well-worn sea shanty. By day, the breathtaking fortress town of Kotor—a fjord-like bay clutched by mountains so sheer you’d think the gods had a dramatic flair for landscaping.

Ah, Montenegro. The very name sounds like a Bond villain’s preferred holiday spot. Sophisticated. Dangerous. Expensive. Perfect for the crew of the good ship Sawasdeekat

We’d been AWOL from the high seas for a spell. Blame Pookie’s culinary prowess. She’d been back in Blighty, absolutely rocking Quaglino’s kitchen – doubled their takings, no less, probably by sheer force of personality and incredible food. Then, she swanned back onto MasterChef, this time.....

A Tale of an adventurous threesome in cracking corfu and a trip to the UK for food festivals and MasterChef Cooking and Judging.

From chaotic customs to the eventual serenity of corfu and its Islands, this blog shares it all.

Scilla was the kind of place travel writers call "undiscovered" and locals call "home."

Ah, Rome. The Eternal City. The place where history lurks around every corner, occasionally tripping you up with a stray cobblestone or...

Five villages, each more postcard-perfect than the last, clinging to the Ligurian coastline like stubborn barnacles on a particularly scenic rock.

Read all about how we missed out on THE BEST seats possible in Monaco's F1 Grand Prix.. oh and a bit about sailing.

We sail alone the French Riveria and pass such beautiful places as St Tropez, Cannes, Menton & Monaco

A Whirlwind of Adventure, Art, and (Almost) Disaster: Our Spring Escapades in Spain and Beyond...

Ah, dear reader, gather ‘round. For once, this isn’t a tale of high-seas adventure or a culinary catastrophe in the galley. No, this is a...