Position: 00 58 650N, 125 43 905W, Speed 5.5kts, Course 207T, Wind Speed 8-11kts, Temperature 79, Humidity 77%, Barometer 1010 falling.

For several hours last night, Double Diamond was transformed. No longer a downwind freight train, she became an upwind bullet train. The wind was only blowing about 11 or 12 knots, but the seas were so super smooth that we just glided over the water at a wicked-fast pace of 8 and 9 knots. In light air, that's fast for a loaded up Lagoonebago (Inside joke - Lagoon 440 + Winnebago). Last night, our floating RV seemed more like a flying machine than a sailing machine. I hate it when corporations take over a word or phrase and make it their own, but dammit Nike, we were swooshing.

The only fly in the ointment is the current we are pushing against. For the past 2 days we have been seeing anywhere from 1 to 2 knots of current flowing north against us and doing its best to keep us in the northern hemisphere. It can be a little deflating to see that we're clipping along at 7.5 knots over the water and then glance over at the GPS-calculated SOG (Speed Over Ground) and see we're only really making 5.5 knots toward our goal.

Echoing in my head are words from an old Warren Zevon tune "Lord I'm thankful for what I've got. With my back turned - looking down the path". It's interesting what you can come up with early in the morning at the helm, headphones on and iPod in hand, digging through life's musical archives. But hey, whatever it takes to get a little more philosophical about current-impacted Speed Over Ground.

This morning's shocker: Melody was out of bed before dawn. I asked her what was up as I scrambled to make her a cup of coffee and she replied "I gotta see the Southern Cross". And see it she did, pointing it out to me in the still-dark sky. Standing up on deck, she said "Last night I could still see the North Star and I got up this morning so I could see the Southern Cross. Do you see it? How many times in life do you get to do that?" I hadn't considered this and the answer is: not many.

She continued to scramble about the deck this morning, several cameras in hand. The result is the photo of today's southern ocean sunrise.

The equator is tantalizingly close. Certainly close enough to inspire Melody to forsake our comfortable berth for scrambling up on deck to take in the early morning sights of the southern ocean. Regardless, we are still 60 miles away as the crow flies (or Booby perhaps?) and all swooshing aside, the miles seem to be ticking off rather slowly as we close in.

Given that we are sailing at an angle to the west, as opposed to directly south, we're really about 75 miles from crossing. That means we'll probably cross in the evening in darkness. It might even be a late night crossing if we're unable to maintain our current boat speed.

Will Neptune be offended if we wait until a reasonable morning hour to celebrate our new "shellback" status? My guess is no, he'll be just fine with it. My other guess is Melody will say "yes" and roust us from sleep or whatever with a round of celebratory champagne and chocolate chip cake for all.

Any suggestions from the gallery on what musical selections to play while we cross? Although I haven't been a huge country fan these past few years, for now, I've got Johnny Cash's "I Walk The Line" and Rodney Crowell's "I Walk The Line (Revisited)" rolling through my head. We'll see what rolls come show time.