Location: underway
I looked above me today to the sail luffing in the wind and – remembering its stubborn stiffness when we flake it – marveled at the ease and grace, the flowing power, with which it snaps and rolls on the mast. The booms transfix me, covered in lines, and swung wide over the water. At night, I can hear the sails beat on the mast and shudder the boat, the foremast shaking all the way down into the fo’c’sle. The stars have come back out, and the helming is easier with the Southern Cross nestled in the backstay. A flying fish jumped on board and smashed her eyeball out of its socket. I meant to throw it back, but when we had the flashlight trained on it, I’ll admit I was paralyzed, and Squid had to do it for me. Waves have become rolls in the Pacific trade winds, and by day, we travel across bands of blue and green; currents? Algae? Otherwise, all goes well (especially in the fo’c’sle), where there always seem to be comings and goings.