Noon Position: 45 45S. 75 19E
Course/Speed: E7 Wind: SW20 Bar: 1032 (wow!)
Sky: Clear, Puffy Cumulus
Cabin Temp: 56
Sea Temp: 49 Miles last 24 hours: 158 Longitude Made Good Miles: 148 Total Miles: 13,881
Sleep. I can’t get enough of it.
Last evening I sat down for the pre-dinner beer, took two sips, and woke an hour later, having poured the remainder of the can into my lap and all over a cushion that had spent the day drying in the cockpit. So I went to bed. It was 8pm.
At 6am I made the ritual first log entry of the day. Then I went into the cockpit to inspect what was on offer. Winds were down and had come into the west. The sun lit up the sea, made it sparkle like electric sapphire. The sky carried pink cumulus, balls of cotton, from one horizon to the other. And it was warm.
After coffee and oatmeal laced with golden butter and peanut butter, I launched the twin headsails on poles and felt a surge of admiration I’ve not felt since the blow. Their whiteness against the blues; the lovely curve of wing, taut perfection with them skyward we sail with the same grace as the birds. We are quiet and slippery-fast, sliding our way east toward Hobart, Tasmania.
That’s the destination, some 3,000 miles onward. It’s not the closest port, but it is right on our route, which is important to me. What is next for the Figure 8 is unclear, and I’m unwilling to discuss the options yet. I am, after all, still picking glass from the floorboards. But I want the option of returning to the route quickly, something Hobart allows.
But today I didn’t worry about that. Today I didn’t pick glass or troubleshoot a device. Because today we sailed.