The constant sloshing speeding sound of water mass rages and thwaps against the metal hull, often slapping against our very low and unfortunately not completely waterproof hatches. Then, comes a loud pitch humming. Sometimes it's mild, almost undiscernible, and at other moments it's so loud we can't hear ourselves think; it screeches on one resonant soprano tone, vibrato included. The prop, Achim explains. I was convinced it was a flying saucer trying to land on our keel.
The pendulum, roller coaster, washing machine... you've heard all the comparisons. It's different to hear about them and experience them hour after hour, day after day. The rolling pitching and heeling is relentless. We've tried every position: feet below is like trying to rest on a pogo stick; head below is guaranteed to smash my spinal chord. Laying low and lateral into the movement works for awhile, but of course only one of us can be there, while the kids, squish and grind me into the wall.
The beds are a mix of well-meaning bedding, crumbs, books, toys, clothes, creams, water bottles. All gets shoved and wiped aside when a body wants the space, but some of it reinfiltrates the area. Why can't this stuff stay in its place? But I see I['m not the only one like this; even Coby, who prides himself on his neatness, organization and respect for Stuff, seems to sleep with the guitar, books, computer and other contraptions flying about the bed.
I attempt to make myself presentable by making sure my underwear are clean and my tshirt not too dirty. Ari is mostly naked all day, and toni is always well dressed.
Cleaning out the side of Coby's bed, I found an Xmas present we'd forgotten to bring out for the kids during the holidays. They were excited to receive their vertical tic tac toe game and played with it for the ritual few minutes. In the meantime, I chucked the wrapping paper overboard, knowing it would biodegrade before a dolphin could get disappointed about there being no present in it. A while later, the kids put on their lifejackets and lifelines and we sat out in the cockpit, beholding the fields of waves. I noted that the wrapping paper indeed hadn't made it overboard, but was lurking on the edge of the netted stanchions. Ari witnessed me throw the paper overboard and was unconsolable. "WE have to turn around! We have to get the paper!" He screamed. No matter how much I told him that the paper was a goner, that we could never find it again, and that we wouldn't want to find it again, he kept insisting. "I wanna go back! get that paper!"
When I first started sailing with Achim I had seem a book in German: "Die Bordkueche; Das Reiche Des Smuts." This means the galley; the cook's kingdom, but I thought it meant: The galley: the area of Crud (Schmutz). I really know why. We are only one-forth of the way there and I've already had to separate sludge from the edible. But quite a bit of the sludge was hanging over Coby's head in the forepeak. No wonder it was getting pungent up there.
While trying to cook pasta yesterday (I did eventually succeed), I left the water for 5 seconds on the cutting board instead of the gimballed stove, and I caught it in mid flight as it was heading for Ari's noggin. The water splashed all over him and his peanut butter sandwich, which immediately resembled a soggy sponge. It was the first bath Ari's gotten out here since we've taken off.
But tonight we will celebrate our .25 of the way with a curried chicken and potatos. Toni has been busy making flowers out of paper and pipe cleaners.
N 21.29' W 29.38' - 1893 NauticaL Miles to go