Like Jewelry from a Grave
Course: 220 Speed: 2 knots
Wind: Northeast 5 knots
Daily Run: 36 miles Ave Speed: 2.3 knots
Yesterday evening the winds abated significantly so we took the opportunity
to drop the tattered remains of the jib and to hoist the spare, after which
we listened to the forecast and surveyed the waters. Now that the short
lived gale had passed and not being one to waste a fair wind, it seemed a
good idea to be on our way again. Thus at 8 p.m. we were once more at sea
though now it seems we must again contend with light and variable winds - as
the figures above show we haven't made very much ground overnight. In fact
early this morning a fishing boat called us on the radio to see if we were
OK, he said he asked because we had been sitting in the one spot for so
long, at which point a little more wind came, we trimmed our sails and had
soon cleared their fishing ground.
It seems as we clear Belle Isle Strait that the iceberg season is over for
us. Reading my pilot for the area, which is a little dated, it states that
this area is prone to icebergs all year round. Perhaps no longer.
The iceberg cuts its facets from within.
Like jewelry from a grave
it saves itself perpetually and adorns
only itself, perhaps the snows
which so surprise us lying on the sea.
Goodbye, we say, good-bye, the ship steers off
where waves give in to one another's waves
and clouds run in a warmer sky.
Icebergs behoove the soul
(Both being self-made from elements least visible)
To see them so: fleshed, fair, erected indivisible.