High Flight

June 23

Oh I have slipped the surly bonds of dirt and danced the waves on laughter coppered paint (Apologies to Gillespie Magee). A great poem of flying, "High Flight", captures the same zeitgeist as sailing away from known shores. Many pilots sail because the two endeavors are so similar in many ways - weather, navigation and physics, of course, but also the spirit of adventure, challenge and taking a little peek over the edge of the world where "there be dragons" drives the passion that makes pilots and sailors. I love it and love being with those who feel the same.

Productivity quotient plummeted today as late-night reading, wet morning and sleeping in decreased dividend ((a) little math humor). Finally roused from languidity (not a real word) to fix bacon, eggs and toast, then do little but computer until Inspiration Ladys dragged me forth to pursue the elusive rum and ginger ale (not too bad) after an extensive walk about Gros Islet (gross ee-LAY), north of anchorage (Rodney Bay town is just south).

As can be discerned, Anthem has lost the will to be free at least until Friday. Impetus to press south has eased as destination nears. Coming brisk weather to moderate by Monday, possibly, at which time Bequia will beckon. Hobnobbing with the cruiserati and reconnoitering the fort (what! another one) at Pigeon island might provide some diversion in the interim and there is always boat work... naahhh!

Jack