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Location: 23 28.992N 26 29.665W Underway to the Caribbean

We’ve just gybed to carry on along our westward Caribbean-bound way. As I pushed the helm over to complete the maneuver, the bow passed through the marvelous sunset, and Max, sitting beside me in the cockpit, could be heard humming between calls of “Gybe Ho!! ….ease yer sheets, take up on yer preventers,” the famous tune of Binary Sunset from Star Wars, where Luke Skywalker (whom Max happens to embody) stares wistfully off into the Tatooine sunset. Our sunset resembled the same desert wasteland landscape, only with watery waves rather than sandy dunes rolling across the endless horizon. We’re short only of two moons and desert raiders. Although, last night’s watch team three did report a rocket sighting! For a whole half hour, they watched as a space-bound craft made its way across the Atlantic sky, a fiery tail headed by a glowing orb. Riley tells us it was a SpaceX launch from Texas.

We’re now on day 4 of the passage. The wind has lulled to a gentle force of 4 11-16kts, but we’re anticipating that it will pick up again in the coming few days, and we’ll then be in for some exciting sailing. For now, the motion of the boat has become comfortable, and we’re well into the routine of eat-sleep-watch-class-repeat. No fish today, but we’ve switched out the pink skirt lure for two swimming rapalas. Nothing of keeping size has been landed yet, but after yesterday’s haul of three little dorados (Mahi Mahi, or dolphin fish), two of which were a double up, we’re hopeful that we’ll soon be frying up some fresh fish.

The sweet aroma of fresh choc chip cookies and the catchy tune of Declan McKenna’s thought-provoking song BRAZIL have just come up through the watertight door into the salon, and the mood about the boat is positively “bumping.” The sky is clear, and with the moon waning and coming up later in the night, it’s setting up to be a stunner out here in the mid-Atlantic. The stars, as you would imagine, are something of a wonder out here. Unmasked by the shrouding lights of land, they shine in their virgin glory, the purest sparkles scattered through the darkness, casting what tangibly feels like the weight of their warmth. They’re a comfort to the ocean sailor, the aid of celestial landmarks by which to steer through the darkness. And, of course, their soft beauty is eternally splendid.

For Squeeze, I asked what your strangest boat dream is we all have them, our minds and sleep schedules trying to adapt to constantly changing environmental factors. One of the best was Allie’s, whose dream was strangely blended with lucidity, though she was sure she was levitating out of her bunk, through the deck, and into the sky. She even tried to take a photo of the scene to share with the group later, only to find in the morning that she had indeed taken a photo of her dark bunk and was abruptly awoken when her rising head (sitting up) met with the hard wooden base of the bunk above her.

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