1/2 way

y'day celebrated getting over the hump

The Barack Obama Bobblehead doll was mounted at the Nav Station with
some ceremony and since today was a Danish themed celebration, a Danish
flag pin was hung using dental floss over the image's shoulders.


The hump can be geographic or temporal and is -at best- an estimation.
Them little grib arrows show breeze and are amazingly accurate, but as
weatherman Lee Chesneau points out they are based on a model. Also those
little arrows when placed down on our own little bit of ocean are
sometimes half a day's sail away. Of course patience is in order but is
another of those staples -like fresh water- that we husband carefully.
ANd speaking of conserving Torbin passed up eating his tinned Glyngore
Kippers in Oil (official kipper supplier to the Danish Throne)
preferring that we all should eat the more perishable food and save the
canned goods for last.

The long fingers of the Pacific High wherever it may be keep reaching
out: teasing a little bit on every night watch between a decent sailing
breeze of 7-10 or the lighter stuff (jib in, engine on & power at 075
straight for the RYC race deck.) After so long on Starboard we keep
awaiting the port which means we are truly over the top of the high.

Still the day started with some deal excitement at Oh-Dark-Fifty while
motoring something went ka-clank in the night. The usual backing and
shifting was to no avail. At first light we sent down a diver, the
heroic sailing master Stubblebeard, who braved brisk, bracing blue and
found the prop and shaft clear -much to The Captain's amazement . A few
more dives determined Tiki Blue's "clank" celebre was the sacrificial
anode mounted on the shaft. The zinc had slipped down to the prop. New
goggles helped Master Beard see better. An English hex wrench got
fiddled into the bolt & then sort of jammed. Our valiant diver like a
good sea mammal needed air but since the lanyard on the wrench was
attached to him, he had a few anxious, anaerobic moments. Meanwhile the
crew unaware of the incipient danger scanned for "men in the gray
flannel suits." There weren't any. The lanyard was attached to the boat
and in short order the anode was removed. Let's hope the boat don't
dissolve now.

Breakfast that morning was a Julia Child inspired large-ish chocolate
croissant- based on dough yeasted out & kneaded the day before by the
good sailing master. Additionally Stubble-bread was served with lingon
berry jam. Lunch was leftover steak sandwiched up.

After 8 days at sea odd things are happening. Books are getting
finished. Torbin has particularly taken to quoting Michener's "The
Bridges at Toko-Ri" which got passed over from Seymour's floating
library. In a totally unexpected move The Capt'n promoted Chris who had
just finished his Grisham novel. Chris celebrated by sounding the
f'rw'rd water tank. In his idle hours Seymour still maniacally hunts for
images or references to rabbits and bananas. Gone is the picture of
Sarah Deeds' Ditch Run winning Wabbit from the pages of Latitude 38.
Yet was disappointed. His reading -that woodsy over wrought Cooper tome-
"The Last of the Mohicans" has ne'er a rabbit so far mentioned. Until
this very morning wherein on page 367 the word rabbits appeared. It was
summarily excised and committed to the deep by the Cap'n. This last,
expiatory act will further the sparkling port tack breeze which propels
Tiki Blue on a cracked off reach to the Gate. Still in the critter
dep't a surface effect-flying Laysan Albatross made a near pass
yesterday. These are the gooney birds found on Midway.

Dinner last night was Swedish Meatballs in ginger sauce with mashed
potatoes. Not terribly, traditionally Scandinavian in its conception.
And Tiki Blue's day ended with toasts of Aalborg Aquavite in a dark
cockpit drunk from a Hawaiian turtle themed shot glass with the GGBridge
a mere 1035 miles distant. And a dark night it was, no friendly stars
poked through the overcast and no moon arose during the midwatch.


S. Dodds,
Yeoman-Bos'n