As we head north our sweltering bunks become more comfortable.  The temperature right now is perfect, neither too hot nor too cold.  I had to force myself out of my bunk at 0230 this morning for my 0300 watch, barely believing that Johnny was really waking me up.  The first hints of morning began appearing on the port side.  

The puffy clouds became tinted with blue and grey as soft pink light peered from behind them.  I enjoyed yet another amazing sunrise as I stood bow watch.  A whale spouted off the starboard side, and I thought I hadn’t written much since the last time I saw a whale.  The days are beginning to stream together.  Sails wind and water.  We have been running the engines the last few days to make up for light wind.  We shut them off for a bit on watch yesterday, and the silence was a welcome sound for my ears. How easily I forget the extreme pleasure of sailing, powered by the wind, until I am reminded of the pleasurable silence by the sound of the engines.
 
I was aloft a few evenings ago, holding on as we rocked.  We saw a single dolphin swim by the boat below.  In some belief systems Dolphin is a protector of travelers.  She also reminds us to go back to our breath, our essence, our meditative natural rhythm. As I am eased into the routines of being underway, I realize we have less than a week until we reach England.  The students are taking on responsibilities as junior watch officers.  It is exciting to see them tackle their responsibility and work through their own leadership style.  Eliza said at the beginning of the trip “a transatlantic voyage will be over before you realize it, so absorb everything you can.” The blue dots marking our position on the chart in the main saloon seemed to take forever to add up, barely having us past Canada. I looked away, and at another glance we are around 22 degrees West, on the same longitude line as Iceland (though far south), making our way to England.

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