Crew's Log January 3, 1999
Noon Position- 13deg 00min North- 44deg 40min West
Joel Rowland (Nephew extraordinaire)
You know, it sure is nice to have a screen and keyboard that don't wave around in front of you so much that you end up bouncing your nose on the [[ key when you meant to hit the q. These boisterous but benevolent Trades are finally blowing like the Pilot Chart says they should and, dare I say it, the Milk Run has begun. We passed halfway last night, 7 days out exactly- 1050 miles...!!!!!! I did the math for you- that's averaging 150 miles every 24 hours and 6.25 knots per hour!!!!! And that doesn't even include all the damn up and down. Granted, a small amount of that is current, but I think our average speed through the water is at least 6 knots!
Man, this first week we had all sorts of visitors aboard- among the unwelcome we've had numerous waves- from the great big bucket of water in your face kind, to the kinds that spit in your lap, soak your back, run up your pantleg or drip down your scalp (that was a fun sentence to write). The uninvited but not necessarily unwelcome flying fish have been pelting boat and crew at night, sure they're just as surprised to run into a wall of Gore-tex as we are to be smacked by a fluttering, stinky fish. They litter our decks every morning- from 6 inches long to the tiniest sardine. I've been putting them on fish hooks in the mornings and trying my luck. And up until just the other day we had a chicken aboard!
It wasn't some fancy pelagic chicken or anything, just your ordinary barnyard rooster. Wait, I take that back, he was no ordinary rooster he was a right salty bird from Ilha Brava, Cape Verde. He couldn't wait to get back on the water, in fact, when I brought him aboard for the first time he flapped out of my grasp right into the sea, and the little bugger started swimming! Took him a second to remember how, but once he did he was gone, pulling like Mark Spitz with a little more neck action. I have absolutely no idea where he thought he was headed (maybe for Sydney 2000), but I thought that the deck of our boat would be a little more comfortable, so after I recovered from my initial shock and swearing routine and after almost laughing myself overboard I went and fetched him in the dinghy. He was a real seafarer- he strutted our poop deck in his little chicken oilskins- smoking a pipe, daring those giant squid to come after him. He was looking the wrong way. And unfortunately for him he got his crow back, not to mention his pecking and biting instinct- right around New Year's, so the three of us wrestled him to the deck and somehow in the process his head got chopped off (fine way to treat a guest), and so help me, the very second that I threw it into the sea, a wave washed it right back on board and completely soaked me while it was at it...Ewwww. Do any of you believe in chicken Karma??
Anyhow, we roasted him to perfection and celebrated Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Year's in one big gravy covered throw down. And you can believe that we gave thanks to the spirit of Freestyle, beloved, late rooster of the Good-ship Tammy Norie.
So we're Caribbean bound with a bone in our teeth, knocking down waypoints one after the other and celebrating each with a toast to Neptune and a Mint Milano (thanks Felicity). Yep, all's well on the water. Til next time!
Sea ya- Wouldn't wanna be ya (brrrrr), Joel