Monday 5/1 - Day 8 at Sea

Where is Royce? Click to sail along! ⛵

It’s Monday. Ugh. Mondays. Does anybody enjoy Mondays? Back to work, the grind, packing lunches, shuttling children, answering emails, etc etc. I learned on my 4am watch that my beloved Colorado Avalanche fell to the Seattle Kraken in game 7 of the first round. An emotional blow and end to a great season. I shared the news with my Seattle resident/watch mate, Staton, right before I spiked his coffee with Jeff’s toenail clippings.

So, not a great start to the week. And yet, absent work emails, children, or any sense of responsibility, which to the disapproval of my crew-mates I’ve left in our wake, today was no different than a Saturday. Oh, and I’ve already jumped on the Florida Panther’s bandwagon, cheering for their success so I can catch a Cup game in Miami en route back to Denver.

Similar to a weekend, I leapt out of bed around 9:30, fully recharged from a full six hours of sleep. What was a bare minimum on land now results in a full charge at sea - likely due to some time-space continuum only existent offshore. With Mia’s guidance, I prepped a pancake breakfast for all those awake. While the crew didn’t fight with one another, make a disaster of the dining room, or ask for more iPad time, it was much the same as a Saturday morning with my Zimmerman Crew back home.

Now it’s nearly 6pm. I’ve been up all day, both on watch for four hours, and just enjoying the quiet afternoon slip by from my perch on the settee below decks. That’s boat-speak for the cushioned bench surrounding the dining room table. I can hear the waves lapping against the hull, the turn of the winches every so often in the cockpit, and the muffled voices of the other watch above. The fans and open hatches keep the cabin a fairly comfortable temperature - the sun out here is relentlessly trying to burn all of us despite the pancake batter of sunscreen we’ve layered on since our last shower.

I’ve been lost in the novel “Lessons in Chemistry”. It has me laughing out loud and sideways with frustration in equal measure. Exploring the misogynist, sexist, and unfair world that existed for American women back in the ‘60’s (and still does for most of the world) has me thinking about how lucky my girls are to be born in this century. I peer over at Ella and Mia, contemplating my feelings around having two younger women in charge of my routine, my safety, and my sailing education. And again I’m frustrated, realizing that humanity took way too long to recognize the unique talents and potential contributions of women. I eagerly offered Mia a fresh coffee on a reading break, hoping to chip away at the thousands of years of reparations her team is due by mine.

Following pancakes, but before our watch, the wind died, the waves collapsed, the clouds disappeared, and our little boat that had been effortlessly ticking away 6-8 nautical miles an hour was becalmed. We still bobbed along at 3-4 knots, enough speed to get us across the Atlantic, but only after sacrificing half the crew when we exhaust our food rations.

After the Captain’s weather forecast and the assumption that we will perish at sea, there was a hasty collection of straws to determine who was first to be thrown overboard. Before any of us was forced to a watery grave, Chris started the engine, and we were back on our 8 knot journey. Jeff should still remain on high alert…this fuel can’t last forever.

The day progressed, the wind returned, we hoisted a second head sail, and are making great time. I’m hesitant to ask Mia what's for dinner, for obvious reasons.