St. Helena to Grenada - Day 18
Harmonie
Don and Anne Myers
Wed 30 Jan 2013 15:01
|
07:33.536N 48:04.472W
January 30, 2013
We can see clearly now the rain has gone.
We can't remember the artist, or the name of the song, but
this particular lyric seems fitting for today. Unfortunately, the
other line we remember from this song, "it's gonna be a bright, bright,
bright, sunshiny day" doesn't appear to be part of the plan. However,
there are several widening blue cracks in the lighter gray facade above us, so
there's hope for this afternoon and tomorrow. A review of our ship's log
for the past week shows solid gray skies and rain ever
since crossing the equator. Who would have guessed our
native northern hemisphere would be so unkind to sailors returning
home after such a long time in the deep south?
We've thought long and hard about yesterday's very ugly 24
hours and now have a new theory. It's possible the sea gods (and northern
half of the universe) weren't conspiring against us after all. Instead, it
may just have been their twisted way of saving us some money. Had we
arrived in Grenada on Sunday per our original plan, we would have had to
pay customs an extra fee for weekend overtime. Arrival on Monday means no
extra fee. So, there you have it. The sea gods are apparently a
frugal bunch.
The gods have also seen fit to make the bothersome
countercurrent go away. Now we're waiting for the positive equatorial
current to arrive (it's late).
We had a quiet afternoon and night sailing in 16-23 knots of
northeast wind with just a few innocuous rain clouds and no
sailing direction diversions to the north. Today's wind is a little
lighter, but should increase back to an average of 20 knots tonight, and remain
there for the next few days. The steady wind means seas are no
longer confused, resulting in a more gentle leftward lean
onboard. This respite is giving our new crop of bruises a chance
to heal before things get boisterous again.
Last night's flying fish count was strangely high given the
benign conditions. Don rounded up (and tossed overboard)
19 carcasses during his deck rounds this morning. They couldn't
have been drunk (what's to celebrate on a Tuesday night in January?), and the
sea wasn't churned up enough to toss them aboard, so what was it? Night
blindness? It's a mystery.
Day 18. Wow. We've broken our own passage length
record (previous record: 17 days, Galapagos to Marquesas). It doesn't feel
like we've been out here that long until we look at the calendar and realize
nearly three weeks have slid by. We've fallen nicely into the
passage mode (except when giant rain storms intervene to make life
miserable), and are used to living life while simultaneously rolling,
bouncing and lurching. When it's fairly calm, like today, it's
sometimes possible to forget we are moving. Sometimes.
Day 18 passage progress: 170 miles.
2,897 miles down, 853 miles to go.
Anne
|