Harmon and Randall's Voyage…

St John’s Azores Leg

Day 7

Saturday, June 22

Noon Position: 41 29.8N 30 22.5W

Course: SE

Wind: WSW and W 7- 15

Noon Miles: 157

Total Miles: 1068

I have scribbled near a window in the the navigation station some useful figures, atop which is written “Magic 143”. This is a holdover from the Figure 8 Voyage, which encompassed over 200 days at sea the first, failed year and 306 of the successful second. When you are so many days at sea, weekly mileage is a thing of sharp focus, and it was always thrilling when after seven days Mo’s mileage topped 1000. It was that jump to a round four figures that felt an accomplishment, especially if one could string together several such weeks. That’s what averaging 143 miles a day gets you and why its magic to this sailor.

So far, Harmon and I are doing even better. Our seven-day mileage is 1068, or over 150 miles a day. I had budgeted our Azores leg at 10 days. We may do it in a bit over eight.

—

The major event of the afternoon, from my perspective, was the loss of my sun hat over the side. There was nothing dramatic about it. Wind has been stable but not strong. I simply made the mistake of setting the hat on deck and a small puff lopped it over the side.

It landed in the water right side up and with a bubble where the head should be, looking thus as if perched atop a person wholly below the waves, gladly not myself.

Unfortunately, the hat was ocean blue, which color on an ocean blue ocean made it nearly invisible from the moment of its escape. I started the engine and whipped the boat around in any case, and once had the wayward hat in sight, upwind rather than my expectation of downwind. But a second tack of the boat and it was never seen again. By this time Harmon was on deck as a spotter but to no avail.

Apparently, my return-to-hat skills left Harmon unimpressed. Later, and ever so subtly he suggested we might profit from some man-overboard drills.

—

As for the sailing, today was more of same, and without complaint from either of us. I can’t recall a non-trade-wind passage with such consistent, warm wind from an open, warm sky. Often the deep ocean in the middle latitudes is likened to a desert for its paucity of wildlife and not flatteringly. “It’s empty,” they say, “why go there?” Yes, it’s empty, and utterly attractive for it. I’m not sure how many days like this I could take. At moment I can’t imagine that sequence having an end.