After I posted the last entry, the morning carried on in a surprisingly uneventful manner—apart from a truly spectacular sunrise, made even better by the dramatic cloud cover.

At some point, I handed my watch over to Mark and went for a nap, only to be woken about an hour later by Joe, who sounded just urgent enough to suggest something had gone mildly wrong. As it turns out, the boys had put the fishing lines out and successfully caught… a bird. A beautiful tropicbird, no less.

When I came on deck, Mark was already holding it carefully in both hands like a feathery football. Unfortunately, the hook had lodged itself in a rather unfortunate location—its backside. With the pliers and one quick, committed twist, I managed to free it. The bird took off again shortly after, likely a bit sore and deeply unimpressed, but otherwise fine.

I’m starting to believe there’s an intellectual hierarchy among seabirds. The Nasca and red-footed boobies seem to have things figured out—they’ll have a look at our lures and wisely move on. Tropicbirds, however… this is already the second one to fall for it. The first escaped just in time before we could accidentally turn the situation into something far more final. This one also had luck on its side.

The rest of the day was classic sailing: shifting winds, constant sail changes, and plenty to do. We even had the spinnaker up for about an hour to dry it out and give it a proper check—and yes, somewhat miraculously, it’s still completely intact.

As evening approached, towering clouds began to build around us.

Have I mentioned how much I hate lightning at sea? If not—just assume I complain about it a lot. Think back to the ABC Islands or the Atlantic crossing. Same feelings. Zero growth on my side!

Knowing that thunderstorms tend to bring generous amounts of wind along with them, we were quite happy for those clouds to keep their distance. As luck—or perhaps your collective good thoughts—would have it, they came close during Mark’s watch but stopped short of becoming our problem.

Now that I’m back on shift, I can still see lightning flickering on the horizon –  hopefully, it stays exactly there.

Meanwhile, the boys spent the evening first on the airfield and later in the sky training and soaring at what can only be described as Mach 3 in full imagination mode. 

We’re now down to less than 200 nautical miles, and a Friday arrival is starting to feel very possible!