It’s 9pm, and I just came off my watch at the helm. No, surprise, I’m tucked under the dodger, on the lee side of the cockpit. This is the comfiest spot on the boat, as the heel pushes me gently against the dodger wall, and I’m snug. We are about 220 miles from Bermuda, and plan to arrive by 3am Thursday morning. Only one day to go, and yet, I don’t feel any urgency to get anywhere. In some of the blue-water cruising books I’ve read, once you are 4 days at sea, and have adjusted, there is no difference between sailing another 4 days or another 4 weeks - it all feels the same. I can see that now, and partly want to keep going.
I’ve been forgetting to address the Bermuda Triangle topic since writing. I’ve always known there is some great disappearance or instrument malfunction theory around this, and after multiple people reminding me about this prior to the trip, I had to do some research. What I found on Wikipedia on route to St. Maarten was a debunked theory around random disappearances of planes and ships in the 20th century within the Bermuda Triangle. The boundaries of which run from Bermuda south to the Caribbean, over to Florida and back to Bermuda. In an effort to stay true to the theory, you’ll all be happy to know that our wind speed and boat speed gauges, and auto helm (which we only used once) all have gone out since beginning the passage. My fan conked out today, and the lights in my room have been intermittently going off and on. Perhaps the theory is real. Ooooh.
This morning, I woke up around 9, and made scrambled eggs with cheese and onions for a few of the crew. This is my signature dish on the weekends at home (minus the onions), and it was really fun to be back in the galley, at sea, making a meal. Tara will be happy to know that this has been one of my favorite parts of the passage - meal prep. If she can improve her sailing skills, we might make a great live aboard team.
Following breakfast, I took my 10:30 watch, and was treated to another beautiful day on the water. The last couple days have been sunny, light breezes, and slow rolling waves. Tonight, we were discussing how an Atlantic crossing would be no different than this, with exception to the distance (3-week passage) and the change in wind direction at times. I previously felt that sailing to Bermuda and onto Rhode Island is less of a challenge sailing-wise than crossing the same body to Europe. It’s no deeper, nor any more extreme the further north and east we go, which makes the prospect of a true ocean crossing less daunting.
I finished my first book on the passage yesterday, another classic by Ken Follett - The Man from St. Petersburg. It’s a historical fiction novel worth reading, if that’s your genre. Today, I started a new book recommended and given to me by my mother about a man who sells books off a barge in modern day Paris, but has a knack for prescribing books to his customers based on their emotional, psychological or other ailments. It’s so easy to sit below and get lost in a new story, while the boat gently rocks, the waves lap against the hull and tumble along, and the cool ocean air passes through the cabin. All of your senses are being massaged at once.
Tonight, as I waited to take my watch, the sun was setting slowly to the West. I took out my phone and began recording a video of the setting sun. All of a sudden, within the video frame, a dolphin surfaced 10 feet from our boat, with the setting sun in the background! It was so surprising and long anticipated! I told Nora and Charley I would find them a dolphin and record it. I can’t wait to show the video to the girls. Ruby loves watching videos on daddy’s phone - I expect this will become one of her favorites.
Earlier in the day, we had another run in with the wildlife. I mentioned seeing flying fish earlier in the passage, and we continue to see them every day. When I reported for my 10:30 shift this morning, a fish had already landed on the bow deck. We retrieved the fish later and took some pictures before throwing it overboard for the birds. They are skinny fish about 6-8 inches long, with fins that spread out into wings like a bird. There was no discussion of filleting the little guy for an afternoon snack, but I’m sure it could have been done.
The captain gave all of us the option to take a shower today as well. After 3 days of applying sunscreen, sleeping on the same sheets, wearing the same outfit, sweating, and getting splashed with salt water, you can’t imagine the euphoria that came from a hot shower. Feeling clean, well-rested, and totally relaxed, we sat down to dinner in the saloon for the first time and enjoyed mashed potatoes, corn and baked chicken. Tonight could not have gone much better. Again, I’m not sure I’m ready to land in Bermuda.
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We're the Zimmerman Family!
Home Base | Denver, CO
A family of six that
LOVES to sail !
Follow our crew (Royce, Tara, Avery, Charley, Nora & Ruby)
as we blog our sailing adventures
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