In the cockpit, Nick and I decide on a new life plan: 6 months at sea, 6 months at home with long stints in Toledo and our cottage. Keep and fix up hornet for Lake Michigan (it will be our picnic boat, Nick says). This means homeschool. Bigs are excited about the plan and agree. Nick and I see a huge tree floating 50 feet from us! Geez. Then we prepare for upcoming storm (maybe) with high winds (for sure). We’ve heard news that Templar has gone missing and Zeeland can’t start their engine and their generator is down. They may be sailing with no lights, but they are so far ahead of us. We worry about them, because we would love to give them our spare generator.
The wind is here. We are flying! Luckily it is like the smoothest ride we have had yet. At 20 knots, we are hitting between 6-10 knots. Wind is cold and at our backs. We sled with slight pushes here and there. Only a little bit of bobbing back and forth. We are finally past the 50* long. and under 1000 miles to go.
Poem:
“Wind”
Wild. It caresses my face
under the stars. Harnessed.
It gives us wings to fly
down the swells of the Atlantic.
It is the in-between element.
The mystery of space between
surface water tension and stars.
It is a powerful god like the sea.
Granting us distance and swiftly
taking it away. Like a dance, she
circles around us, moves our sails,
slaps our sides with breakers. She
brings the north. Cold. Calling.
With the smell of mossy glens
and Celtic cliffs. She whistles
and howls in one sentence. She
plays with me like a giggling child.
I must chase her laughing. She
pushes, drags, pulls, glides, blows
at me with her every thought. She
holds nothing back. Like an ancestor
filled with knowledge, she is patient
and waits for us to discover our own
strengths side by side. She spins, she
pushes, she is light on her toes.
Maggie, the Survivor and Poet