I woke up ahead of my 1000 watch Sunday to make Sunday morning pancakes. Then with a light breeze still blowing aft of the beam, I set the drifter up as soon as I came on watch, and we sailed languorously south, always fighting a current, barely making two knots towards Panama and that is fine, we have time. I rinsed our heavy weather yankee, bent on the inner forestay, with so,e fresh water, let it dry, then stowed it below. We are not goi g to need it for a while, and no reason to let the Sun eat it.

From 1330 to 1430 we stopped the boat for some fun diversions, I still wanted an ocean picture with the drifter set, so I prevailed on Robin to take a camera out in a kayak for a photo run by. Despite my assurances I really would stop the boat for her to re-board, Robin insisted on taking a satellite emergency beacon, a Garmin In-Reach satellite communicator, a VHF radio, and water with her. And she texted both our children so if she disappeared mysteriously at sea they would know who to blame.

After the photo run by, Robin took some temperature and salinity measurements. The sea is very warm and very salty here. Then we each individually went for a swim - another test of spousal trust as you swim in the vast ocean with one eye on your vessel to make sure it does not begin to sail away from you,

No showers after swimming because the freshwater pressure pump finally gave up the ghost. I have a spare on board - the old one had been acting up but installing the new one is just one of those projects I didn't get to, Not a project I am inclined to do at sea when port is just two days away. There is a manual pump, so we can get our fresh water in the galley.

I saw a red footed booby soaring over our boat this afternoon - like a slender grey gannet with red feet.

In the evening, the wind backed to north, so we dropped the main and we are inching along under the poled out drifter, sail slatting as the boat rolls on the short little seas. The cargo ship Katherine passed us southbound two nights ago, her running lights just visible nine miles away on the horizon. Tonight I have been staring at her port sidelights all night, as she is going dead slow eastbound, right in our path, presumably awaiting dispatch instructions for the canal. We are each traveling at about one knot,and are on a slow motion collision course, which I will deal with when the time comes.