Day 13
Yesterday morning’s downpour cleared to sunshine and calm seas, allowing another round of fridge sorting and floor cleaning. I attacked the hell drawer and vertical stacker with a Marie Kondo-like vigor, letting go of those veggies that did not spark joy (surprisingly few), organizing condiments and dairy in a pleasing fashion, and ensuring that the precious Cadbury’s Dairy Milk retained its happy snap.
The all important beverage station,
featuring Jeff’s electric kettle and David’s inventive cup holder
The rest of the crew fussed around with the sails, Georgie pulling a short straw and going up the mast to place another patch. Later she continued her Florence Nightingale act and patched my arm, where a couple of boo-boos refuse to fully scab and insist on tagging every white surface they touch with a rusty signature.
As I reread this, I understand if you have fallen prey to one of our spontaneous naps: it was not the most fascinating of afternoons. The doldrums indeed.
Luckily, things livened up later in the day. While indulging in our daily sundowner ritual, Leona’s steadiness allowed us to break out the Rummikub set for the first time. The competition ran hot, especially as David slipped further behind Georgie’s lead, when an alarm let us know that the engine was running hotter still. The Super Mario Brothers immediately sprang into action, abandoning Rummikub tiles for tool kits with speed and alacrity and more than a hint of glee. (I wonder if Luigi and Mario could possibly prefer problem solving to game playing?)
You have to love friends who go out of their way to deliver a brand new Deluxe Rummikub set to ensure you are well-entertained on your trans-Pacific voyage.
Here’s to you, Cheryl and Sebastian.
It appears two fans have gone on strike. David and Jeff took turns origami-ing themselves into the engine room in an attempt to locate the source of the issue. Failing that, they turned to the Internet and other wise sources (yes, connection is a net-beneficial) for insight. The consensus appears to be that there is some wire/switch/conduit that has been disconnected, and the ambient temperature triggered the alert. We have resorted to the simple (and fingers-crossed temporary) solution of leaving the engine hatch open, allowing the breeze flowing in from the roof to act as a natural fan. It does complicate galley-life, however.
Despite the momentary kafuffles, the daily puzzles Leona throws at us keep life spicy and the Mario Brothers on their toes.
As David said, “It’s like a game of Survivor: challenging yet conquerable.”
Last night provided magic, and the stars aligned both physically and meta-physically.
It began with a perfect cinematic experience. With David’s San Diego-purchased mini-projector, we had an outdoor screening of Whale Rider, the profoundly simple and beautiful insight into modern Māori life. The Muse of Technology heard my invocation. The winds filled the sails just enough that we could rest the iron beast, yet not so much that we had to wrestle gravity. All four of us were transported to a remote New Zealand coastline.
The movie highlights the clash between a firm stance on a set of beliefs and the inexorable tide of evolution. Faced with a potentially fatal issue, when does the certainty in one’s righteousness blind one to an unorthodox solution? From the stew of modern life, can we sift out and apply the most beneficial ideas humanity learns, recognizing that the bones of a culture - the traditions - can withstand gentle adjustments?
And a luminous Keisha Castle-Hughes rides a whale.
My night ended by star-gazing with Georgie from the aft deck (clipped in, of course). A host of rambling sentences concerning constellations, the Ancient Ones, menu-planning emerged and fluttered away on the night breeze.
The stars aligned.