Bermuda to Azores | Day 10
This is what we have been studying for days. As of 3 am this morning, we were the white dot. running as far south as we could to get to the underside of the system to our left.
Day 10 was wildly unremarkable. Yay! The winds were light, and the seas had mostly abated, though we still had some larger waves from time to time.
So we took advantage of it and tried to catch up on some much-needed rest, as best we could. Ken had trouble resting, which isn’t unusual for him. But as the captain, he feels the weight of what we are doing and the responsibility to make wise decisions in a way the rest of us don’t. So every time he lay down to try to rest, his mind was going, and he couldn’t sleep.
Yesterday was the calm before the storm. We wanted to take full advantage of that—enjoying a much-needed break. But all of us felt this foreboding anticipation of what was to come. We discussed our options many times. And we prepared as best as possible with the information we had. Our sails were deeply reefed, and we had altered our course, heading straight south as fast as possible to try to get to the underside of this front. All we could do was wait. And then, when necessary, respond to whatever presents itself.
For those who know Ken, he has kept his lighthearted nature. He was looking at the weather forecasts and sent a picture (see below) to some of our friends with the caption, “Looksie, a heart! New mission of the WholeHearted Project…tuck tail and run!” Haha! I love that he sees hearts in things, but couldn’t we find something sweeter, like a heart in a cloud, or on a rose petal, or something? Sheesh.
Speaking of the WholeHearted Project—this trip has made writing for it nearly impossible. Cranking out these posts is easy enough; I can recount our journey in a few minutes. But producing something of genuine value for those seeking hope, healing, and freedom is another matter entirely. Writing about matters of the heart with theological acuity, nuance, and compassion is hard to do while being slung around by waves, seawater raining down through the hatches, the hull vibrating from wind and water, and that infernal halyard clanging against the mast — one we can no longer tighten down because of how deeply we've reefed. Well…that's a whole other ball of wax. I have several articles in the hopper and am still trying to edit my book on the first 30 Psalms, but all of it will have to wait until we reach the Azores.
A heart in the middle of the front, and Remedy running south!
We are on the downhill stretch to the Azores. This is the last weather front we should experience on our passage. Hopefully, it will pass by lunch tomorrow. As we were sitting in the cockpit yesterday, Ken said, “For our anniversary, I’m going to give you…” and then, with a grand, sweeping hand gesture and a guttural voice, he said, “Landfall.” Haha! And…the ability to do laundry and eat a meal I didn’t have to make while also catching flying objects and cleaning spills.
If all goes to plan, we will arrive in Horta on Sunday, May 31st — our 18th anniversary. Ever since we started this, we have called it a marriage adventure. And it has lived up to every ounce of that proclamation. But maybe for year 19 we could have a spa day with couples’ massages instead?
All is well.
Day Ten Stats
Nautical Miles Sailed In The Last 24 Hours 143
Average Boat Speed 6.0 kts
Max Boat Speed 8.0 kts
GPS Coordinates 35 08.301N 40 45.680W
Miles to go: 711 (Ken said yesterday he decided we were going to circumnavigate the Atlantic, just to make sure we got to see all of it before heading to Horta). Haha! He’s not wrong. We have been navigating around fronts this whole last week, so we have added quite a few extra miles. But I can assure you, I have seen all of the Atlantic I wish to see for a while. I am ready for landfall.)