Passage of time

Rather than write a daily update, here are some thoughts on the passage of time, and slow changes during the crossing. Today was the first tropical day; To me this mean a day where you sweat even if you sit in the shadow doing nothing trying to be cooled by the breeze.

Given that this is only a small crossing, probably the smallest possible crossing the Atlantic, it seems silly to remark that it seems like a very long time since we left the Cape Verdes. This may be due to the rhythm of the shifts, 3 hours on guard, 6 hours off guard, which jumps one shift every day, so the next you are one shift later.
The most important task during the watch is to keep an eye out for other ships, by scanning the horizon every 15 minutes and checking for the beacons of the larger commercial vessels on the plotter. You also look after the wind-pilot, the course and the sails. When you are alone at night you wear a life vest and chain yourself to the ship with a 'life line' for safety. During my watch I tend to sleep outside in the cockpit, using an egg timer to wake me every quarter hour for the round. The watches and rounds mean you wake up multiple times every night, and also gives days am ordered similarity which makes it hard to pinpoint the passage of time. As the sails and the wind-pilot hardly need adjusting, once or twice a day at most, there is a lot of free time which is mostly spent reading.

The water temperature has increased slowly to a balmy 29 degrees, making the salt water wash on deck every day or second day a lot more comfortable. The salt water wash is followed by a brief freshwater rinse, as freshwater is rationed, for it will be hard to refill the holds until we reach Recife in a week or two.

Our noticeably dwindling supplies of vegetables and fruits hanging in nets from the main cabin ceiling also mark the passage of time, although there probably is still enough canned and dried food stowed away around the ship for a month of two.

There is little to report in the way of animal or human life outside the ship, our efforts to fish up some dinner having been fruitless so far, and only a single bird has been sighted all day. The wind gradually decreases during the day, to the point where the sails flap and slap the rigging and then picks up again at night. The action of the waves is unpredictable; multiple sets of waves are at action at once, and interact mysteriously leaving the boat sailing smoothly for ten minutes, and then roll roughly for 10 seconds or so before settling in for the next calm period, without us being able to observe any particular wave or pattern that causes this.

we haven't yet crossed the equator, but we have crossed the point where the sun is straight above at noon, meaning that the sun now rises on the right and sets on the left, when facing towards it. On starry nights there is quite a noticeable difference in the stars, the pole star is now lost in the haze just over the sea, while Ursa major is still pointing at it. The southern cross is ever higher pointing out the direction to go.

The weather charts indicate tomorrow we should reach the doll-drums.

----------
radio email processed by SailMail
for information see: http://www.sailmail.com