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Published: January 27th 2006
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January 5
After two weeks of mishaps, we set out from Bradford Marina with relief, sensing that the place was beginning to grow on us against our will. We planned to leave at 7, but didn't pull in the lines from the dock until 8:20. Our destination was the seldom visited chain called the Berry Islands.
It was a direct course south to southeast which was to probably take all day. Upon leaving the derelict cruise ships and rusty cargo containers behind, we discovered that the wind was at our backs. We unfurled the mainsail and genoa (a sail at the bow), and turned the motor off. The wind was steady from the north and we held a steady speed of 6 to 7 knots, or nautical miles per hour.
The captain was at the helm for the first four hours of the trip, pointing out various ships and other vessels along the horizon. Come lunchtime, Mau prepared the first-ever Italian conch salad. (The night before I had prepared the first-ever conch pasta.) After lunch, the captain decided to leave the helm to me for my two-hour shift.
I took the helm and kept her on a bearing of 140 degrees.
Mau joined me at times to enjoy the pleasant sail. The wind was strong, the waves were light and there was a balance of sun and clouds.
As I panned out across the waves, my eyes would catch sight of a few wayward birds, seemingly following our path in case we aroused any activity from the sea. I began to notice that they weren't the only companions on this reach. I once saw what seemed like a bird skip across the waves like a rock, with flitting wings like a hummingbird's. Only, it was a fish.
"O, che bei pesci volanti!" Mau remarked. She always reacts in Italian, then formulates thoughts in English.
I had fogotten that flying fish even existed.
At another point - one loses track of the minutes - I saw what looked like an inverted inflated plastic garbage bag on the surface of the water drifting past. Arild had told me what it was.
"Hey, Portugese Man-o-War," I said to Mau. Lethal. I tried to imagine the mass of spaghetti tentacles dangling beneath it.
Any pursuit strives at reaching an ideal, and I believed that finally we were experiencing the sail that we had come for. The past two weeks had presented a quagmire of many delays, mishaps, arguments and inclement weather. These obstacles overcome, we were now free of electricity, money, machines and commotion, propelled by nature in the best scenario imaginable.
When one achieves such a level of contentment, much of the time sailing is spent in silence. The only voices are the wind in the sails, waves brushing against the hull, and the fizzing of sea foam. Many times, these long periods of external silence arouse internal reflections.
Mau voiced the silence of her rumination. "You know, everyone talks about overpopulation. Out here there is nobody!"
I slowly panned around the whole horizon. It hadn't occured to me that not a single boat was within view.
She continued, "You would think that one day many people will choose to live out here on the ocean. Or, that man will start to build big cities out on the sea."
I had come this way for this sense of space, but had never considered the likelihood of civilization's encroachment. It seemed to me like it would never happen, as if humans possess an insurmountable resistance to the confines of comfort upon an expanse of space such as the sea. Sure, mariners can go anywhere they want, but must give up the comforts and moors of the sedentary life, a fact that is hard to swallow for many.
I gave the helm to Mau at 14:30, returning below for a nap.
Later in the day, we came within view of land, but could tell that a pointless one hour delay in the morning meant having to anchor after sunset. The day waned at the passage of a Norwegian Cruise ship coming from the anchorage we were aiming for. It was dark by the time we had to navigate through an inlet, bypassing a rocks on either side. I stood at the bow with a powerful lamp guiding the way like Diogenes, spotlightling the massive bulk on the left and the smaller ones on the right. Once anchored in Slaughter's Harbour, I cooked up a successful dinner of pork chops and rice, and we dined under the stars.
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