A Strange Sight
January 27th, 2007
By Lois Joy
0900: I dry off the helm seat and sit down to relax. I've already hung out our wet towels, clothes and even the damp rugs, hoping that this time, they will actually dry...I turn to scan the eastern horizon beyond our stern. Just above the bank of clouds lurking there, I behold a strange phenomenon. Behind the moisture-ridden haze, there glows a yellow ball of heat. Could it be one of those missiles I'd been listening about in the audio-book, Nightfall? (Thanks, John for that gift.) Like the one the conspiracy buffs theorize downed Flight 500, headed for Paris from New York? No, I cannot see an orange streak, like in the novel. And it's too large, round rather than elongated. Perhaps a flying saucer? It is rising slowly now, higher beyond the horizon. Aha! There is a sun, after all. I haven't seen it for six days now. The Linus-like cloud that has been hanging over Pacific Bliss all the way from the Similan Islands has risen to the heavens. This fine morning, the spell has broken. The seas are calming; I see only a few whitecaps. And I no longer lurch around, grabbing onto handrails and furniture as I attempt to walk. The wind is a gentle 12 knots from the east and Pacific Bliss is gently sailing along at a slow 5 knots. That's fast enough. We don't need speed; we are ahead of our plan, and will need dawn's light tomorrow to cross the shipping channels into Galle Harbour, Sri Lanka.
We have so appreciated your sail mails of encouragement during this week-long, mostly miserable passage. Ret, your breakfast chats are wonderful! As we send our messages out via the bleep, bleep, bleep of the SSB, we eagerly scan the incoming report for the subjects and senders of the crossing, incoming messages. They are candy for our spirits. Thank you all so much.
Love, Lois and Gunter
P.S. It rained off and on all day again. Chris, our crew, came up into the salon, sleep-eyed. "I saw it...I saw the sun," we're my first words. He gave me this strange, sleepy look. For the rest of this day, it has been more of the same, but without the wind and squalls. Those towels? They never did dry during this mostly miserable passage.