1800 Thursday 26 March, Day 19
A gentle swell rippled by a light breeze. Puffy, low clouds dot the azure, late afternoon sky. Cooler now. Manu Chau playing on the stereo, Kath dancing on the cockpit seat. I steer Caramor at a sedate two knots, our best speed for several hours, grin, and reflect ruefully on my earlier frustration on our slow progress.
This is good. Life is good. What is the rush anyway. The wind will come when it is ready.