It would seem that no one's mind is made up. The sky and clouds say the weather should improve just when the sea kicks up. And when the sea settles, the sky screams tempest.

All day we've sailed with a mixed bag of rain, drizzle, sun, swell, and waves.

The weatherman in me threw his hands up in despair hours ago and the sailor in me shortly thereafter.

The normally reliable grib weather data is just shy of wildly wrong and there is nothing in the text forecasts for this area that is helpful.

Other than sticking my head in the sand, I'm pretty much out of ideas.

Of the things that worry me most, inexplicable and inconsistent weather ranks right up there. I am already at the mercy of the weather Gods and when it seems I've become their plaything, I fear the worst.

Shortening sail seems prudent, but then we are pounded by the cross-swell from the north. Bearing off results in an interminable rolling that puts the gunnels under. Heading up has the sails slatting madly as the windvane wanders aimlessly off course and then on again.

I am not sure who's more confused, me, or the the sky and clouds.

I settle on a course and sail plan that the windvane can manage and decide to call it a draw. No clear winner this round. I am sure of one thing and one thing only: Down here everything changes in a matter of hours. Perhaps then someone, or maybe something, will have made up its mind.