Skipping along the top of the Azores high now making about 100° T over the mud. Jib and stay, fores’l and tops’l flying on a close reach in about F3, rolling like a fat cowboy with saddle needing synching. Even the occasional roll to starboard puts water sloshing onto the quarterdeck.

Sun’s out, marlin spotted off the bow and Newman’s up and at ‘em with the gift fishing rod the crew was given before departing New Haven. How exactly we would ever boat a big fish at seven knots over our bulwarks may not have been thought through…but hey, anything less and our appetites will manage a solution. A little fresh mahi mahi for dinner would go down very well thanks. We must keep Newman in hunter gatherer mode at least until we clear the Bank on the turn ENE when it comes…soon.
 
Below decks in the saloon within five paces of the galley stove is sweltering. The diesel never stops flowing, the fire always heating away…no one wants to think about what it may be like in the tropics. Bengineer was working on installing the extractor fan over the oven to try and reduce the galley heat from med high to just high. Gina, Dani’s new shadow, will have to use the oven now for her amazing ‘We are not worthy’ butterscotch cookies…before she just put then tray on the counter next to the sink and they cooked. With a little carpentry from Tim to seat the new fan, perhaps we will do without anymore bacon alarms at 0-dark thirty, most annoying to the vegetarians I’m sure.
 
Love to my girls, Kent 

Find a yellow marker on Amistad's daily positions chart to see where Kent was writing those words

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