Silent Night
24 December 2022
• Tasman Sea
by Karl
After a tumultuous morning, the ocean has grown quiet for the night of Christmas Eve. The dark clouds that rolled in at the end of my night watch last night brought persistent rain and equally persistent force six winds, which we weren't ready for. The best we could do was roll up most of the Genoa and bear off on a reach, while the wind driven waves piled up higher.
Robin announced that the ten am breakfast holiday sing was being cancelled. I went on watch fully suited up for the worst. And the sun came out and the rain stopped, though the F6 winds persisted for s few more hours.
By our 1400 hours midday meal, the wind had dropped below ten knots and all our sails were spread again. We had our holiday sing at lunchtime instead.
It is strange and a little sad to spend the Christmas holiday at sea, so far from family, friends, colleagues, community, holiday parties with bad punch and trays of meatballs. Indeed without any people at all within a hundred miles or so except the two of us.
So we are observing those holiday rituals that we can as best we can. I laid out a Christmas Eve dinner of smoked salmon and marnuka honey glazed ham, dressed in festive attire. At the ten pm change of watch we had our Christmas Eve caroling service in which I tried to guess the chords for âHark the Herald Angels Singâ and we read from Isiah and Luke about that magical night in Bethlehem so many years ago (thanks to Amy Coplan for emailing me the readings - we don't have a bible on board).
Then Robin cast some reindeer food in our wake, which made little sparkles as it hit the still water. For there is a little magic in this silent night on the ocean, with our little ship moving improbably in the right direction on a glassy sea, Jupiter on our bow and the southern cross diving on our port quarter. Love and peace to all!
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