Noon Position: 12 36N 151 02W
Wind: E12 -15
Bar: 1014, rising before noon, falling after
Sky: Overcast, solid deck with heavy cumulus under
Cabin Temperature: 86
Water Temperature: 82
Sail: #1 and Main, full, reaching at between 7 and 8 knots
Noon-to-Noon Miles Made Good: 149
Miles this leg: 5,767
Avg. Miles this leg: 128
Miles since departure: 22,827
Cloud rolled in as the sun set. I had planned a whole series of sextant star shots, but in the end was only able to nab Jupiter and Arcrux before I lost the horizon to gloom. Got a reasonable position if not exactly spot on.
Steady, fresh wind overnight diminished with the day and has gone into the east. I put out the big genoa mid morning. Wind has settled into the teens and is right abeam. Mo scoots along with purpose.
Unsatisfactory Conversation with a Flying Fish
Randall: Hello everybody. We have had a guest come aboard in the night whose name is Midge, and…
Monte: Senior, I think the little fellow that he said his name is Esmidge.
Randall: Oh, Smidge.
Smidge: Smidge. Yes, I’m Smidge.
Randall: Got it. Well, visitors have been few and far between this leg, so I thought since you have chosen to cast your luck with us, we could have a chat.
Smidge: Will it hurt?
Monte: Only during the listening part.
Randall: Given your condition, Smidge, I don’t think there’s anything we could do to hurt you.
Smidge: Ok then.
Randall: So, what’s it like living in the ocean?
Monte: Really? That’s your first question? He’s a small fry. Where else has he lived? What’s he gonna say?
Smidge: I dunno.
Randall: Ok, then what do you eat?
Monte: (rolls eyes)
Smidge: I dunno. Things that move that I can catch. Then I eat them. I like the soft ones best.
Randall: Hmm. V e r y interesting…
Monte: Senoir, please to allow me. Esmidge, how is it learning to fly?
Smidge: Oh, great! Mr Wilbur, he’s our teacher, he says I launch well but that I need to focus on distance and control. “‘Away,’ Smidge,” he says, Think ‘away,’ not just up. If you go only up, the Dorado will be there when you land. Nose down, tail out, Smidge. Nose down, tail out!” That’s what he says. But it’s hard.
Monte: (laughing) It is funny to watch the small fry, no? They go up and plop right back down or they push out and crash into the next wave. It reminds me of the little ones in my village who…
Smidge: “Control, Smidge, control,” says Mr. Wilbur. “It will save your life one day.”
Randall: So, on that note, how did you come to be on deck this morning?
Smidge: On what?
Randall: How did you get here?
Smidge; Oh, well. I was sleeping when I heard a great whooshing and saw a black monster chasing me, so I flew. It’s what we do.
Randall: (To Monte) Even the adults think Mo’s black bottom paint is a Killer Whale after them. (To Smidge) So you flew up?
Smidge: Well, yes. I was scared. And then I never came down again. Is this a Dorado?
Randall: Not exactly. And what lesson have you learned from this, Smidge?
Monte: Not all adventures end as you have planned them. That’s what I am thinking.
Smidge: Not to fly up?
Randall: Good, but how about this: don’t run from monsters that aren’t chasing you. OK NOW into the fry pan you go.
Smidge: (Screams) Nooooooo!
Monte: Senior, he is too small. Better to eat at toothpick. It has fewer bones.
Randall: (Tosses Smidge overboard)
This article was syndicated from The Figure 8 Voyage