Taking Our Departure

Noon Position: 39 34.2 N 072 13.1 W
Course: East Nor-east Speed 6.5 knots
Wind: South Sou-east Fresh
Weather: Overcast, mild Sea: Moderate
Day's Run: 145 miles


Eventually we broke free from the tidal maws of the Delaware Bay, picking up a gentle
breeze from the southeast which had us close hauled on the starboard tack, making a very
comfortable 5 knots in calm seas and a sunny blue sky overhead. As evening approached the
breeze freshened and veered, such that now 24 hours later we have a reef in the main and a little bit of the job furled, making good a very respectable 6.5 knots with a moderate sea running under a silver overcast sky. In fact we have put in a good first day's run since making our departure of 145 miles, an average of a tad over 6 knots. In nautical parlance a ship makes her "departure" when she leaves sight of land, here she puts a fix on the chart, streams the log, and starts her DR which stands for dead reckoning which in turn it seems was corrupted from deduced reckoning, i.e. calcualting her position based on course and speed, updated on an opportunity basis with celestial navigation sights, at least that's what the modern navigation manuals say, but I'm sure there is a much more interesting story behind "dead reckoning" somewhere. This was of course all in BGPS time (Before GPS). Life at sea was once so much more romantic than it is now, and more deadly of course.
Anyway now we are making for the outer extremity of the Nantucket shoals. I had originally
thought of stopping at Martha's Vineyard, but not unpredictably once out on the deep blue
sea I can think of little else but getting a few miles under the keel and having Sylph well on her way to our next destination.

Bob Cat:

This old sea cat is still feeling a bit lubberly, skipper Bob put out a can of half decent food last night, rather than the usual hard tack served up on this here hell ship. But I reurgitated the lot, what a shocking waste. I reckon the skipper has a sick sense of humour!! But we old hands have a solution for the dreaded sailor's curse, sleep for three days straight and when you wake up you will have your sea legs, or more importantly your sea stomache. So back to remedial treatment - funny how this accords so well with my daily routine, my work and indeed my whole philosophy on life. In fact I might take a double dose of medicine, just to be on the safe side.
Zzzzzz Zzzzzz.

All is well.
Noon Position: 39 34.2 N 072 13.1 W
Course: East Nor-east Speed 6.5 knots
Wind: South Sou-east Fresh
Weather: Overcast, mild Sea: Moderate
Day's Run: 145 miles


Eventually we broke free from the tidal maws of the Delaware Bay, picking up a gentle

breeze from the southeast which had us close hauled on the starboard tack, making a very

comfortable 5 knots in calm seas and a sunny blue sky overhead. As evening approached the

breeze freshened and veered, such that now 24 hours later we have a reef in the

main and a little bit of the job furled, making good a very respectable 6.5 knots with a

moderate sea running under a silver overcast sky. In fact we have put in a good first

day's run since making our departure of 145 miles, an average of a tad over 6 knots. In

nautical parlance a ship makes her "departure" when she leaves sight of land, here she puts

a fix on the chart, streams the log, and starts her DR which stands for dead reckoning

which in turn it seems was corrupted from deduced reckoning, i.e. calcualting her position

based on course and speed, updated on an opportunity basis with celestial navigation

sights, at least that's what the modern navigation manuals say, but I'm sure there is a

much more interesting story behind "dead reckoning" somewhere. This was of course

all in BGPS time (Before GPS). Life at sea was once so much more romantic than it is now,

and more deadly of course.
Anyway now we are making for the outer extremity of the Nantucket shoals. I had originally

thought of stopping at Martha's Vineyard, but not unpredictably once out on the deep blue

sea I can think of little else but getting a few miles under the keel and having Sylph

well on her way to our next destination.

Bob Cat:

This old sea cat is still feeling a bit lubberly, skipper Bob put out a can of half decent

food last night, rather than the usual hard tack served up on this here hell ship. But

last night I regurgitated the lot, what a shocking waste. I reckon the skipper has a sick sense of humour!! But we old hands have a solution for the dreaded sailor's curse, sleep for three days straight and when you wake up you will have your sea legs, or more importantly your sea stomache. So back to remedial treatment - funny how this accords so well with my daily routine, my work and indeed my whole philosophy on life.
Zzzzz.

All is well.