From out in the Pacific ....

From Jared ....

It's 0500hrs and I'm two hours into my night watch with two more to go. This is the beginning of day 4, I think, (time is relative, as in relatively unimportant out here in the vast blue) on what should be a 21 day run to Hiva Oa, a Polynesian paradise and the final resting place of Gaugin. We have seen speeds of 10.3 knts over ground and for me, that's a little on the fast side. My bunk is on the leeward side of the tack, so when I occasionally do get a little shut-eye I often wake up with more of my body resting on what should be more of a wall (land lubber term) than a bunk. The upside of going fast is, of course, it gets you to port quicker. Upon making sight of land, I imagine myself pulling a Forrest Gump and leaping from the vessel before she's properly tied like good ole' Gump did upon seeing Lt. Dan.

The fishing has been poor for the last two days except for a football sized yellow fin tuna caught by Tom. Fresh sashimi always has a way of putting a smile on our faces. But why are the tuna always gone?

The key to maintaining one's sanity on the prospect of such a long time out to sea is, I believe (not really sure..check on me in two weeks ;) occupying one's mind with the following tasks: remain in constant radio communication with your fellow sailors and talk about the myriad ways to cook canned meat, then cook meat, eat meat, talk about another recipe using same ingredients while still in the salon eating that meat. You think I'm joking. I'm not. As I listen to radio communications this seems to be working for the other sailors. I, personally, enjoy watching the phosphorescence trail that stretches a 1/4 mile behind the boat at times and as deep as the keel. It illuminates the night waters. Those agitated plankton surely show their disdain for being annoyed by the boat in a beautiful manner. Time during the day is spent preparing meat (haha), completing unnecessary boat details, completing necessary boat details, checking emails, reading about the next destination, making journal entries, thinking about ideas for songs, thinking about loved ones, and mentally drifting back to a day in the Galapagos when I swam with sharks much bigger than me or walked along free-roaming giant tortoises over a hundred years in age. Hey folks, to manage you have to get inventive. On a side-note, did manage to see the famous "Lonesome George" (last of the Pinta island Galapagos tortoises and somewhere in the area of a 130 years young) move. He doesn't move much. He looks tired, like he wants to be left alone and take a nice long morning, afternoon, and evening nap. This might have something to do with the Darwin Research Center's failure to breed him with other sub-species. Just a theory of mine, no empirical data to back it up.

Alright, time to go back to the helm and finish up the watch.

"Brown-Eyed Girl" out...