Sunday January 9, 7.00 am

Reflections: This morning, a little after 6, I climbed out of my bunk, went on deck, and gazed out at Schouten Island, Morey's Bay (our overnight anchorage, where we were in company with 15 other boats) and the water. The south wind had alternately raged and gone quiet during the night, and when I look out it has gone totally still.

The "girls" chatter about penguins and early morning swims and every other thing while I attempt to collect my reflections on reflections ... Let me see ...

Clouds, already fragments, are fragmented again in their reflections ... the shapes, like mud wrestlers, keep changing, changing, and the utter impossibility of a straight line or a corner delights my mind. ... The shine on the water outgleams polished metal or brand-new plastic, proud that it is the shiniest thing in the universe. ... I am a kid again - this is the first time ever, for me, seeing reflections. ... A mast's reflection is spineless. ... The yellow boat spills gallons of yellow paint onto the water's surface, it's image even yellower for being freed of its edges ... The sky comes down, humble, and lies below everything. ...

Back to "reality" - a cup of tea, and plans for the day, to motor/sail to Wineglass Bay, to anchor and receive our guests.