Pacific Ocean 2 April 2010 16.1228N 118.5809W

Today’s weather is mostly North winds, 15knots, seas maybe 10′ also from the north roughly, skies cloudy with patchy blue. When the sun peaks through a cloud, That Blue appears not just next to the hull but in big swaths farther out. Under the clouds the water is more of a gunmetal gray (with bluing) than the all steel gray of yesterday. We’re now sailing along SW at 5-7 knots between the swaths of That Blue and gunmetal gray. If the sun is at just the right angle, and we’re in a That Blue swath, there’s another neat emerald-turquoise blue that appears between the white caps of cresting waves and That Blue below – little ephemeral gems for the eye.

But whitecaps make the sea a little sloppy, and every onboard activity takes a little extra effort – including naps. So we’ve spent a lot of time staring at That Blue, dozing, then staring at it some more. I tried to read to the boys, but it was a pretty heavy philosophical chapter in Steinbeck’s “Log of the Sea of Cortez. We had set it aside for awhile, now I remember why. It’s very interesting, but a bit intellectual for the kids in spots, especially on a day where even thinking takes a bit of an effort. After torturing them with that chapter, I had to redeem myself – I broke out the gummy bears; that livened them up a bit.

The booby birds have left us now. We’re too far from their land for comfort. Frank was worried that the last booby on the mast would sleep too long and get lost at sea. We’re moving faster now, so she wouldn’t realize how quickly we were leaving her island behind. Fewer birds may explain the population explosion of flying fish today. I even saw a baby one fluttering next to the hull, for a disorienting moment, I thought it was a little blue butterfly, he was so tiny; and instead of flying in one long sweep like the others mostly do, he was dipping in and out of the waves next to the boat, flitting from wave tip to wave tip looking very like a butterfly. This morning Frank found him dead on deck (sniff). I don’t know if it was actually my butterfly flying fish, but one exactly the same size (about an inch long). He would have been really cute if he hadn’t been dead. They have a very triangular cross section, with flat heads and their eyes point down toward the vertex of their upside down triangle body. No wonder the birds feast so, poor guys can only look for and flee from predators coming at them from below. Their wings are almost as long as their bodies, and the bottom half of the tail is like a long boat rudder. Can you tell we’ve examined him closely? Now we have to decide if we dry him out on deck and dip him in epoxy, cut him up and examine him under the microscope, or toss him overboard and wait for another bigger one to eat.

Logan did get his goal met this morning, but he didn’t do it on his own, so I’m not sure if it counts – he had an assist – as his head was emerging from the sleeping bag, Frank tossed the morning flying fish find in Logan’s direction and met the targeted goal(s) (Frank’s and Logan’s). Somehow Logan didn’t seem very satisfied meeting his goal in this way (not nearly as satisfied as Frank was meeting his) Moral: it’s not just about the goal; the path counts too. Now Logan wants us to send him up on the main halyard in his bosun’s chair, and let the movement of the mast swing him out over the water so he can aim for his flying fish in the face all on his own. I think I may have to veto that path – mom’s, spoiling all the fun and always creating obstacles to meeting goals. Oh well, someone has to make sure the kids are challenged.

To those of you celebrating, Happy Good Friday! xoxomo