A Good Night's Sleep Followed by a Swim

As the sun set last evening, five guys on a boat finished their tuna steaks and held animated discussions in an effort to not only predict the atmospheric conditions during the coming night, but also to determine the precise appropriate action to take in response. Barry began the debate by going over old business.


"Are we going to spend another sleepless night with that mainsail banging? Every half a minute, just as I fade off to something like restful slumber, it goes 'SLAM', and for what? There wasn't even any wind last night."

"It wouldn't go 'SLAM', if the sails were kept trim," Mark said, looking straight at me.

"Trim it however you like," I was affronted, "If there's 2 knots of wind, the sail is gonna 'SLAM' every single time we rock back from a wave."

"What about flying the spinnaker?" someone interjected.

"Only if the wind is directly behind us. Besides, there is the busted pulley we have to consider."

"Oh yes, the busted pulley ... "

"What wind? There was no wind! At one point we were moving backward."

"That doesn't mean we'll get the same tonight."

Oh my, what a gaggle. On and on it went, until Barry called for a vote, in the manner of lying on the bench to drift off to the same acrimonious half-sleep that had been sustaining him for days. In the end, we left the mainsail and the genoa sail up until night fell, at which time the mainsail was dropped. Thereafter, the boat rocked placidly and moved forward only as swiftly as the current. All of us, including Barry, slept like newborn kittens on a floating island in a sea of satin which, had we been able to find the edge, we would have tucked in neatly at four corners and left a mint chocolate kitty treat on the pillow clouds before us. Tom and Barry both said the boat talked to them last night. While there were no conversations going in my bunk, I must admit that I could at least hear her breathing.

By morning, we were all 14 year old boys on a raft again. After the sun rose and we had a hasty breakfast of pears and cereals, the water around us was still flat and the wind nonexistent. Tom, Mark, and Louis determined that it was high time to take advantage of our fifty kilometers wide, four kilometers deep, members only swimming pool. The safety cables were pulled back at the aft steps and two ropes were deployed behind the boat. Within moments, Tom was in the water and making appreciative Chewbacca noises and hanging on to a knot in one of the ropes. Louis, in high style, made a running full-circle flip into the drink, and quickly swam under the boat and out of sight. Barry and I played the part of a team of mother hens, asking if Louis had a hold on one of the ropes and if Tom was alright and so on. I would have gone in, but you see I'd just had my hair done. When Tom finally removed himself, it was Mark's turn to demonstrate complete disregard for the dangers of the deep. He mugged for the camera and did a pirouette into the salt water.







Last night with the sail down, and the night before as well, we made very slow progress. As the sun warms the air, the winds pick up, and we go into the afternoon confident that we will make up some distance. There are, after all, still 1,400 miles to go. Even though Barry insists it is Wednesday, it is indeed only Tuesday. We all want to get to St. Lucia, and onwards to our various distinations. Barry misses his Polly and the little restaurant down the street where he insists they must give him his own table. Tom is looking forward to getting back to the Netherlands and his wife and life. Mark will reunite with Zhenya in Europe. Louis is already making plans to take the boat through the Panama Canal and across the even-larger ocean to Australia. I want to see the Shire again and my little hobbit home. Not a moment goes by that I am not thinking of Ellen and Ro. Every day I read the note my little one tucked into my duffle. But as long as we're here, in this most remote spot on Earth, where the fish fly and there are still no sails or whales on the horizon, we're going to have a little fun.





And a little tidbit from the flying Dutchman (till he hit the water anyway)

Na het dagprogramma van gisteren wil ik even in het kort vertellen wat ons vannacht en vanmorgen overkwam gisteren viel de wind weg, wat bekend was via de weersberichten en is er een kleine vergadering belegt over wat te doen. Nu om het geklapper van het grootzeil te verminderen is dat naar beneden gehaald en alleen op de Genua verder gevaren met zoÕn knoop of 3. In de morgen was iedereen vroeg wakker omdat we gisteren de tijd hebben verzet, 2 uur terug, Voor 9.00 uur hebben Louis, Mark en ik een duik genomen in de Atlantic waar het ongeveer 4000 meter diep is. Het is heerlijk om elke 2 dagen een douche te nemen maar dit is helemaal speciaal.
Zo zijn we weer een dag verder, de hengels weer uit en op naar St. Lucia.

Cheers from the slightly soggy crew on Maverick Dream