Our new first mate arrived a few hours ago. The rest of the crew has been working in overdrive all day - sanding and varnishing the wheel, tying on the new preventer, doing all the ship's laundry. I've been busy, too. I got the stove going, after hours of struggle. I defrosted and restarted the freezer, and the fridge is in the works.
Tomorrow we leave for Greenport, near the top of Long Island. We'll be gone 5-10 days, and miles offshore, out of cell phone range, cut off from the world.
We are expecting 35-45 knots of wind. The wind will be from the south, which means that it will first be at our tail and then at our starboard aft quarter. A lot of wind. It should make for good sailing.
I've decided to try harder to record time's passing during this transit. Otherwise, days spent in transit pass by like in a dreamstate - events roll over into one amorphous time cloud. Whales; a mid-ocean swim; catching fish; all the events from my first transit on the Neverland are vivid memories, yet I could not tell you the order or the date. Even being at the helm, which I remember so clearly that I can close my eyes and feel the tension on the wheel, is lost to me somewhere in the dreamy rush of it all. But I remember so much of it, that I surely must have been fully present and fully alive at that moment.
Is it any wonder we're all so excited about being at sea again?
Leftover bread pudding, hash made from Saturday's ribs; and veggie hash with sweet potatoes in it and maple butter
Leftover goulash, carrot sticks and celery
Texas brisket with buttermilk dinner rolls and a salad with feta, dried cranberries, sunflower seeds, carrots and tossed with a bit of Teriyaki and sweet chili sauce
Cap' Flash's grandma's chocolate bunnies