Vegetables flying through the air across the main saloon (the central room of our floating studio apartment) is a familiar greeting from Neptune. We start a passage with many vegetables and our stowing (putting away) does not always outwit the first night of heeling (when the boat tilts). With practice fewer vegetables become airborne but the Pacific ‘s Welcome was exuberant

The first surprise was at dinner last night. Imagine how you're all the plates and serving dishes on your dining room table would fare if your rowdy teenage cousins stood on one side and moved the edge up and down a foot or two even 7 seconds. The seas were a bit rough and soon I am hugging the salad bowl with my arms, the salad dressing is between my feet and the napkins and silverware grasped next to the salad. When my dinner plate emerged from the porthole (2 foot by 2-foot square window) I reached for it, sort of and suddenly we have the night of the flying food (cooked vegetables). I launched everything. Most was recovered but I never find my bread till my morning watch and many of my peppers and onions are lost overboard.

The Pacific was not done with her welcome. The sea was glassy at 4 AM, the boat moving slowly. Karl reported dreaming or imagining ripples on the horizon. I opted against motoring to find wind. A combination of staying closer to shore longer for a pseudo covid quarantine and the craziness of starting to motor in the first 24 hours. So, I creep along going slow enough to try and record the visiting dolphins with my hydrophone. Sunrise was very grey and the mountains and volcanos of Panama lost into clouds. Feeling pleased with myself having dodged a squall and lot of traffic, I delayed reefing (making the sails smaller when the wind is strong) a little too long shift off Punta Mal (Point Bad). The chart was full of warning of nasty tide rips and current reported the year I was born. By the time I am reefing with Karl as coach the seas are confused and the wind pretty strong. Reefing includes lowering the sail trying to keep the reefing lines (20-50 feet long pieces of rope) from tangling as the wind it trying to make a mess just like a cat working on your knitting. Karl yells remember the reef knot it is just like tying you shoe. All I can think is I am terrible at tying my shoes. I prefer clogs with no laces. I try to channel my heros, women who have steered rafts through the Grand Canyon and have welded a boat together to sail two oceans. With their imagined support I tame the cats and remember how to tie my shoe. By the time it is done, Mabel is happy wearing the right clothes for the day although Karl and I are both soaked.

Bird Note: Brown Boobies, shearwater and petrels are circle us today. The Petrels are the same ones that used to both Justin. Apparently, they nest on the Galapagos.