Asante - Blog 9 of the never ending poem

Day 9 gave me a memory, the best there has ever been. When tears of laughter ran down my cheeks over what I had just seen. I had awoken early. My early watch had beckoned. I stepped out through my cabin door. Leaving Ian asleep I reckoned. When suddenly the door swung wide. Ian stood there almost naked. He shouted something loud and long. His words I contemplated. I looked behind him on the bed. And there where I had lain. A flying fish was fluttering, clearly in some pain. The window it had come through, was barely 5 inches high. Not even near the waterline, but along the decks nearby. I’m not sure who’s had the greatest shock. Ian whose skipper or me. Cos that there fish that landed, was where my head should be. Encounters with the wildlife were not quite over yet. Because I have not told you, of our adopted pet. We have a friendly gannet. Gaza is his name. He circles us for hours and we watch him play his game. Of flying down and catching, the fish who are mid air. We cheer and clap a good catch. But when he drops one we despair. Todays the day we really feel the trade winds have clicked in. The swell is high, the waves do break. Our speed now makes us grin. The predictable life cycle, of rain and squalls and sun. Are letting our four newbies see, that Atlantic sailings fun. We’ve reefed the sails, it’s just enough, to make our ride more flat. Why make things uncomfortable? I’m really not into that.