We've finally tacked the sails and are on a port tack now. We haven't done much with the sails really--we've furled the Genoa now and again and reefed the main, but we've moved steadily and quickly enough that we've not bothered at all with the spinnaker. I think we're all embracing simplicity and sloth out here. After chores and school we spend the day reading, or reading to each other (I'm reading Maia the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy and Ev's reading her the Hobbit) and for a while yesterday we blasted music through the outside speakers and danced crazily in the bounce. Once we were spent we resumed staring at the sea (we recently saw a bottle with a message in it float by but couldn't quite pull it together quickly enough to rescue it).
Our fishing gear seems to also be taking it easy--we lost the gaff overboard and stopped throwing out lines until we came up with an improvise. But now they're back out, nothing has shown interest in biting. I have mixed feelings about this--I'd love some of the fresh tuna we've been hearing about (seared and crusted with sesame seeds...) but I sort of just want it to show up--filleted and ready to serve.
My Internet twitch is gone--I guess I'm through the throws of withdrawal. In fact I think my withdrawal now will come when we see land. I can almost understand the choice Bernard M. made when he sailed on, ignoring the finish line at the end of first round the world race. I think it must be something about the water--so blue I can lose myself in it, so remote I wonder if anyone ever before has been at this exact place on the earth, so deep it has room for all my thoughts.
In our turbulant wake I see flying fish skirting the blue waves before crashing into sunlit froth. And then our wakes settles and there is no one left so see or hear the ocean. We leave everything behind.
A third slow day--yesterday we came just 140 miles.
We're currently just over 1000 miles from land so if you haven't placed your bet on our arrival time in Hiva Oa--do it soon!
N 02 12
W 125 40
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