All night we trended past a wall of frontal cloud to starboard while to port the sky opened to cottony cumulus and then stars. The sea before Mo was flat and stayed so into the next day. Then abruptly at 10am the cloud wall ended in a terminal squall, a leaden explosion of atomic proportions, and with that the day cleared and the wind filled in. We sailed close reaching to the west for two hours, Mo almost bounding, but the day couldn’t take the pressure and our wind collapsed by mid afternoon.
At 2pm I spied three white spots to port. Plastic sightings have been on the rise, but these were something different. A click took Mo off autopilot to explore. The three spots became three tropic birds sitting at their ease after lunch. They flushed too early for a gam. Then I spied a large fish crate submerged in the water. We explored that. And having brought Mo to a standstill, I suggested we go for a swim.
I have never had the courage to take the mid ocean plunge when alone, but Harmon needed no prodding, and when he was back aboard, I followed. Water temp: 72. A bracing splash and then delicious floating atop 15,000 feet (height of Mt Whitney) of clear blue glass. Two zebra striped fishes rose from beneath Mo’s mighty protection to see if I bore treats and then hurried back into her shadow. I swam around Mo for a time … but not too far, home port being some 900 miles to the east.
Lots of motoring. Is what I get for attacking a High. By the time we reach forecast winds tonight, we will have 43 burn hours on the starboard fuel tank and 30 on port. With reference to the below calculation, that means we’ve used 35% of our fuel in our first week. To our credit, we are ever so close to the wind, though that wind does look light into the future.