Wind, Cold Water, Secret Sugar

A joint moonrise and sunrise:

Today I laid on my stomach on the trampolines for 30 minutes with my head over the front edge of the bow, chin on my hands. The gennaker kept misbehaving and made an extra wrap of the tack line around the bowsprit so I went forward to go fix it. Thinking it would just luff again, as it had been for the last hour on and off, I laid there waiting for slack on the line. Apparently, it was just acting out because it wanted company; as soon as I got into position, she flew beautifully. So I was patient and found myself watching the water as it moved below me.

Back when I knew nothing about sailing, my image of it taken from Hollywood or storybooks most likely, I probably would have described the perfect sailing experience was a boat, sails full, cutting with speed through water as flat as glass. Little did I know, that’s ridiculous. Where there’s wind, there are waves, and the best wind is never going to result in flat water - but today is a fair attempt at the idyllic.

The wind has improved, averaging 12-15 knots and our speed over ground has jumped right up with it. The swell, however, has remained fairly calm, and the chop is minimal, almost unnoticeable (or maybe it’s just my sea legs). Nam Thanh’s bow cuts through the water with ease, the white water at the most forward edge frothing its way up and then out just like a benson bubbler. The boat has a roll to it that causes the bow, every few heartbeats, to escape the waves and then plunge back in, creating extra bubbles and froth. It feels playful, like a child splashing through the water - testing its strength and the impact of its momentum.

And there! Fish! A school of them swimming just ahead of our bow. Left and then right, disappearing and then returning again just when I thought they were gone for good. At first only dark blobs, I look more closely and they’re about two hands long, bright blue with an emerald band just before the tail. I wonder what kind they could be.

Earlier in the morning I went straight up to the foredeck to meditate and do some light yoga, ab exercises, and pushups. Afterwards, I returned to the galley to pull my water bottle out of the fridge and down the cool water. It’s hard to describe how refreshing. It’s my new routine. Time for a new lemon slice.

The best part of the increased wind? It makes the heat more tolerable and our faster progress is mood-lifting. I’ve never had my mood so clearly linked to the weather. Out here, if the wind is good, my mood is good. If things are slow and it’s hot and the boom is clanging, I find my patience is shorter and I just want to sleep until the day is over. The heat out here with no wind is oppressive. It makes me feel a little like I might understand Connor when he gets hot and frustrated and then suddenly it’s too much and the seemingly out of nowhere he spazzes like a cat, stripping layers and finding a fan. It’s totally like that. (love you, dear:)

Today I found joy in an orange from the fridge (the last one!) and a new trail mix that the skipper brought out of some secret stash that has yogurt chips in it. They basically taste like white chocolate and Jan and I are equally excited about it - we have a pretty good sugar hankering between the two of us.

Sometimes I think I’ll run out of things to write about. And then I just look around.

E

P.S. Last night’s potato gratin Thanksgiving dinner! Yum!