The boat is balanced nicely and the ride is smooth. Except for the occasional sudden release of the windvane self steering that causes a surprising sudden accidental turn to the East we continue westward day and night. The boat rolls with a gentle 5 second cadence. In the stern you hear the creak of the windvanes rope turning the wheel and a delightful joyous gush of bubbles past the hull. Lying in our berth the bubbles gurgle next to the pillows . I must love my dawn watch. Today I woke up and got dressed 3 hours early.

The dawn is slower to arrive on this watch and this morning after my exuberant early awakening I was struggling to stay awake. The stars were gone, the sunset was not dramatic due to the fair weather and there seem to be no birds. Suddenly whizz something black passes right by my ear. My first thought is one of the grey winches holding all the tension of the sail has let got. It is the first black object to come to mind but the winch is still secure right behind me. My next instinct is that black hat was caught by the gust. But my hat is still on my head and the ufo passed into the wind. Puzzled I focus on the sound. The whizz reminded me of something - rain on a still lake or the cloud of flying fish taking off. The whizz was the sound of a flying fish passing across the boat. More unidentified flying hazards, the sound of fish wings.

I try to ignore the miles to go number on the gps units as a trap of math... how fast are we going how many days till we get there. Sea pearl asked us yesterday when we thought we would arrive. I said Friday possibly Saturday. I have gotten my heart set on an arrival date then the wind died. It could still happen. There is a calmer region close to the marquesas. Today sea pearl asked again in our ongoing chatter about fishing strategies and recipes don't you think you will arrive Thursday. Regardless of Thursday Friday Saturday the number is no longer huge. We started with the distance of a long flight to Europe or across the country (2940 nautical miles). The it was a more familiar distance from New York to the Azores (1800 nautical miles). Last night it was a trip from New York Newfoundland and this afternoon just to Nova Scotia.

While I am still looking East knitting a blue footed booby into a cowl our reading and conversations are looking west. When Karl is not studying the celestial navigation and I am not photographing and tracking stars we are increasing captivated by how the island ahead were settled. The Galapagos behind were found by that lost bishop who probably should have been using techniques close to Karl’s black sextant. Ahead of us are islands where people landed 100 bc and settled one thousand years ago. These Polynesian settler sailors held pictures of the stars and their reference to the horizon in their heads. I am in awe of this skill.

Tonight there should be shooting stars. Fragments of rocks the size of sand these flying objects leave a silent streak across the sky.