[password] rachel25,
[position] 18 09.632s 030 52.835w
[status] On passage from Brazil towards Cape Verdes

Oooh-ooo! A gentle call from Ana pierces my sleep. It's 5am, the end of her watch and start of mine. I open my eyes. The grey light of dawn weakly illuminates the cabin. I lie, naked, no need even for the sheet which is, instead, formed into a wedge to support me against the heeled cabin wall. The gentle gurgling on the far side of the wall tells me we are still making way, on our way. There is more light than yesterday, a reminder to change our time to keep pace with our eastward progress.

I open the cabin door to find Ana, lifejacket over tee shirt and knickers, completing the log. A brief word, a brush of lips, and she is gone, to her land of dreams.

I pull on shorts and tee shirt, briefly check Ithaka's vital signs, AmpHours, Volts, Latitude, Longitude, then up the steps into the cockpit.

We are close hauled on starboard tack, as we have been for the last three days. Full yankee set with-in 50mm of the port spreader, full staysail and full mainsail, as much power as we can muster. I note the wind indicator at the masthead, the leech tension, the flowing tell-tales, all now increasingly visible. The wind is light, just enough to coax the wind generator into motion, but insufficient to raise any useful volts.

I move aft behind the binnacle. The instruments glow with pleasant familiarity. On the left, magnetic heading, ridiculously optimistic owing to the large magnetic variation in this part of the world. In the centre, depth, speed and distance, the former flashing zero, not because we are aground, but because the sonar pulse is too weak to make the return trip to the seabed, 3km below us, and back again. On the right wind speed and direction, 10 knots and 45 degrees apparent. "Apparent" is what the boat feels - the true wind modified by the passage of the boat through the air. Below these three, the compass, glowing red inside it's hemispherical dome, dancing in time with Ithaka's motion.

The distant line of the horizon still hides the ascendant sun, but already it is illuminating, bringing colour and definition to the grey. Small cumulous clouds are ranked across the eastern sky, their flat bases resting on some invisible celestial rule. Nearer, their larger, darker brother, blossoms high and black, angled lines of rain linking it to the sea below. I note its position and likely track. It should pass ahead of us but, apart from a soaking, may also bring increased wind. Should I reef in anticipation? No, not this time. It's not that big or ugly.

The wavelet ruckled sea is taking on form and definition as the sun rises, the underlying ocean swells marching past, an unending progression driven by some distant storm. Ithaka rises and falls in time, submissive, a bobbing cork, her horizon stretching and receding involuntarily.

All is well in our ocean world. I go inside and put the kettle on.

Wind NE 15kts. 0.5mwaves. Sky 10% cloud. Baro 1006
[END]