Today unfolded slowly, as if we were motoring through a dream. I never imagined the Atlantic could be this calm — just a long, gentle swell rolling in from the far North, lifting us softly up and down. The water had a greenish tint, and for a moment it felt as though we were gliding across a vast European lake.

With the calm came a focus on life’s smaller routines — a bit of schoolwork, baking some focaccia for lunch, and the comforting rhythm of an easy day at sea. The boys then invented a “ski simulator,” inspired by talk of Lake Starnberg, winter back home, and a documentary about the Streif. Their laughter filled the cockpit, followed by an enthusiastic session of “muscle training” — they decided the long days aboard were perfect for bulking up.

The gentle drip of the day was interrupted only once: a sighting of a sunfish, that odd and magnificent creature, drifting by in its surreal way. Later, we watched the sunset from the roof with cold Fanta and snacks — really, what more could one ask for?

Just as we were settling into the evening, the fishing rod whizzed off — a little skipjack had taken the bait. Sadly, we couldn’t release him, and since Mark and I once had a rough experience eating skipjack, we tend to avoid it. But as he was already gone, we added a bit of him to the pasta for dinner, grateful not to waste his life entirely.

At 20:30, the wind shifted back on the nose. We stopped the engine and raised the sails again — smooth conditions, no waves, just quiet progress. Not a great VMG (Velocity Made Good — the speed toward our actual waypoint), but wonderfully peaceful nonetheless.

All in all, a deeply enjoyable day aboard Akuna — slow, gentle, and full of small joys.