Last evening, which was mild and pleasant, I sat on deck after dark, sipping Laphroaig and considering the contrast with a week earlier when I was being gale driven back out to sea. I lost the lottery with that storm. Last Friday was misty, but every other day since my arrival has been sunny and perfect.
Each evening I bring stuff drying on deck back down below and each morning I tear the boat apart and put more stuff back on deck. Today the contents of the bow: water jerry cans, Spade anchor and rode deployment bag, spare rode, JetBoil gas canister bag, and a lifejacket used to cushion the anchor. Some of this is going to be left out overnight.
I also attacked mold on the sides of the hull and overhead forward of the main bulkhead against which I am presently leaning at Central. I will never eradicate it all, but the area around the v-berth is much improved.
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Several of you have told me of typos in the passage log. I thank you all and have made corrections. My favorite so far: “Not really a dying day, but I tried.”
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Douglas took the time to find the number of pages in each of the twenty books I read on the passage. Total pages: 7052. Pages per day: 128.3. Pages per mile: 1.2. I thank him.
When sailing and bailing the cracked hulled, EGREGIOUS, I recall writing that I read a chapter, then bailed, read a chapter, then bailed; and that a slow reader would drown that way.
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Mandla, who cleaned GANNET’s bottom, sometimes crews on boats. Once, when on one that sailed up to Richards Bay, eighty miles north of Durban, another sailor asked if Mandla would clean the bottom of his boat. Mandla said, “No.”
“Why not?”
“There are sharks in this harbor.”
“But there are sharks in Durban Harbor, too.
“Yes. But those sharks know me.”
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I am, I think, caught up with my email.
If you’ve written me and not had a reply, gMail lost you, so please write again.
