It was a quick sunrise this morning, reminding me that we are getting close to the equator.  The sky had an orange tinge to it that may have been fine dust blown out to sea from Africa.  Either way it made for a beautiful sunrise.  

As we sail farther south the wind has been getting progressively lighter.  After we left Boa Vista in Cape Verde we had a beautiful sail on a beam reach with the topsail and four lower sails with one reef in the mainsail.  As we had expected the wind became progressively lighter, and early this morning the reef was taken out of the mainsail.  Before lunch the light-air canvas including the main top and jib top had been set, which essentially puts us under full sail right now, with only the small t'gallant not actively pulling us on toward Freetown. 
   

The moderating breeze and calm sea has made it a pleasant day to be on deck.  Gone is the constant salt spray that has been blowing across the deck for the past few days.  The decks were dry enough to sit on this afternoon to do some yoga and other exercises.  We are still making good time- over 6 knots the last I checked, but to sit with closed eyes it is easy to imagine that we aren't going anywhere because of the lack of pitching or rolling.  I didn't get even a small splash of saltwater on during our afternoon class on deck.  I haven't been able to say that since a couple of days before we got to Cape Verde. 
   

I was able to take some time to go out in the headrig to watch our progress from as far forward as it is possible to go on the ship.  I sat suspended over the dark, 14,000 feet deep water and watched flying fish take to the air just below my feet.  Looking back toward the ship I could watch the bow wave peel off the stem leaving frothy white patches of foam in the water on each side of the ship as we passed.  Above, the sails stood out brightly against the sky and the varnished wood of the spars glowed a beautiful honey color in the morning sunlight.  Forward there was nothing to obstruct my view of the seemingly endless sea before me, or break the illusion that I was in fact flying silently fifteen feet above the ocean. It was an unforgettable moment.
   

Just before lunch I took out my guitar for a while.  It was the first time that I had played in over 2 weeks.  The stronger winds that had given us our impressive string of 150+ mile days didn't make for good guitar playing conditions. 
   

Now, after a tasty dinner of Portuguese beef and sausage with beans, rice, and fresh tomato salsa I am enjoying not having to hold on while I write this blog.  I am thinking about everyone back home and hoping that things are well there.  All is certainly well aboard the Amistad tonight. Later all, Barry

 

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