15:24.0N 40:47.0W
The Egret has Landed - 6 Dec 2008
Phil Blogging again. Thank you for the feedback, and thanks to T & P for
their missives.
A perfect day down here, deep blue Ocean, 20 knots of
Easterly wind, bright sunshine and the boat is doing 7.5 knots in the right
direction.
An Egret has just landed on the sprayhood (yes really, and we
haven't been drinking), about a 1000 miles from the nearest land. Where is it
from, where was it going, what do we do with it now? Any answers from the
ornithologists out there? Reminds me of Paula's Simon Drew picture at home 'No
Egrets'. Perhaps I should ask if I can transfer it to the boat for good
luck.
You can tell we're settling into the routine now - I've started writing
Poetry. OK, it's more Pam Ayres than Wordsworth, but it may serve as a useful
reminder, and hopefully amuse someone.
Ode to a Long Passage
A Transatlantic Passage, nearly 3000 miles of blue
How will it make us
feel and what will we think and do.
Are the weather Gods with us? We can only
pray.
And will the GPS keep working to show us the way?
Dreams, ambitions, nerves and fear all a mix
Slow, slow progress shown by
the last fix.
Round the clock watches, four on and eight off.
Well that's
rather easy, I hear you all scoff.
But we are so busy, there's a lot to fit in.
We have breakfast, X oneses
and e-mail our kin
then lunch and a kip before a beer and then dinner
Two
courses and coffee, perhaps that's why we're not thinner.
Log entries and writing, thinking and reading
An occasional check on what
the boat's needing
Weather data, course changing, sails need tweaking
Is
it really the 'Meaning of lLife' we are seeking?
You may be wondering what things we all miss
You of course Darling, and
family, a kiss.
Clean sheets, feeling cool, and ad libitum
beer,
It's not views of the sea, that's patently clear!
Maybe we're selfish, that oft used word
Do you expect guilty feelings,
don't be absurd.
Guilt; a wasted emotion, I've heard someone cry
Too much
of that and life passes you by.
Eeh, that's a bit mawdlin' and slightly morose
We need to cheer up -
dinner's quite close.
Two play Cribbage, one cooks - Onion,
tears