4:30 am - 220 of 240 miles complete.
Until 2-hours ago, last night was the calmest waters of the trip. And then the winds picked up. It's currently blowing in the high teens a wee bit off the port bow. We're slowly working towards land - 7-8 miles off La Libertad, El Salvador. Over 1-knot of current against us which is fine. Wind and current are from the same direction. If they were from opposing directions, would be pretty rough and I'd be heading for the protection of shore. If the wind doesn't lessen (and it likely will), will be a bumpy few hours reminiscent of San Francisco Bay.
We adhered to our watch schedule last night. Consequently we each slept fairly well. Cheryll and I have been together for almost 30-years. It was probably Yr 3 or 4 (2000?) that we took Weebles down the coast from San Francisco to Channel Islands - similar distance as this run (240 nms). We went in October during the narrow slot of true summer along the California central coast and it was a beautiful run. But the daylight hours were fairly short so a longish night. Cheryll was really scared about running at night. She never missed a chance to tell the story of the fishing boat off Monterey that lit up it's daylighters and sent their tender out to shoo us away from their gear (of course it was middle of the night and of course she was on watch - thought we were being boarded by pirates). To her defense, darkness really magnifies the emotions. You cannot see the water and the seas. And the sound of plates clinking in the cabinets become cacophonous.
We've both come a long way since then. She'd still prefer to avoid overnighters but accepts them as part of what we've signed up for. I've built a lot of skills since then too. We've grown as individuals and as a couple. I knew she was The One for me back then, but the 35-year old Peter didn't know what that meant - as the proverb goes "
you cannot tell a tadpole what it's like to be a frog." Where did the time go? The days (and nights) are long but they years are short.
The winds and chop have started to subside and there's the glow of daylight on the eastern horizon. In three hours well anchor for several hours until high tide when we meet the panga who serves as bar pilot. Scot (
@slowgoesit ): will be thinking of you and Laura.
Peter
