blog frid

another perfect day in paradise
Tiki Blue just boogies along at a fairly steady 5-6 even in a breeze of
only 7 knots.

Torbin shifted the watches around slightly so David now follows Chris.

After his trial and in spite of the concerted efforts by the vile
prosecutor a sentence was rendered, yet it was the very Captain of the
T.B. (not Chris) who then assumed the captaincy of the head. He
proceeded to field strip and then clean two rubbery valves with a
combination of rum (yet another Captain -this one good ole vanilla-y
Morgan) , rice vinegar and paper towels. After lubing with petroleum
jelly, Torbin reinstalled the gadgets and the head no longer leaked.
After which out came the handy wipes which left the water closet with a
visible sparkling clean sheen and pleasant aroma.

We've been doing a combination of motoring and sailing trying to keep
the boat northing at around 5 knots. Whilst letting the 5th crewman,
young Auto who is believed of silicon-German ancestry, failed in his
negotiation of a patch of plastic here floating in the Pacific Gyre. The
gyre is home to much eternal plastic. This is actually to be expected
as hardly a minute goes by with seeing something extruded float by. Auto
drove because it was time for our evening cocktails. In accordance with
the New Yacht Club Manual of Excruciatingly Correct Yachting Attire (9th
edition) the Captain posted that the uniform of the day be tropical
undress (open collar short sleeved shirts, bermuda shorts with knee sox
and shoes -all white and freshly pressed of course. You should have seen
David ironing in the forepeak -but that 's another story.) Unlike the
gauche Pacific Intra Club Yacht Association style manual shoulder boards
were not worn. The cocktail unfortunately was not in accordance with
the NYYCMECYA. Good Ole Capt Morgan spiced rum with plastic bottled OJ
was fine. Still shaken with ice in a tumbler was how it should properly
have been served. The orange slice garnish was a nice touch but hardly
up to the NYYC standard.

Still the boat was shaken. The prop was encumbered by something. No
amount of hoo-chee koo-chee with the throttle could ease the out of
kilter whomp-whomp vibration. Seymour Dodds after consulting NYYCMECYA
(overboard diving section) jumped in with appropriate Brooks Brothers
monogrammed swim briefs located line wrapped around the prop and shaft
and after a second dive removed it. Oddly & luckily it was half inch
manila line. Removing ocean aged, prickly polypropylene is much harder
and probably would have involved some cutting out. And fortunately he
didn't see any large predatory eyes looking back at him from under the
hull.

Later on near sunset he crew dined on Penne Pasta (whole wheat) with
meatballs in marinara sauce with chopped Parmesan. The cabin boys are
now washing little red dots of sauce out of the tropical undress whites.

Night watches are still the favorites. You are not alone on the ocean
with all those little twinkly stars and planets slowly rotating around
Polaris. Shooting stars are also having their brief streaky moments
across the sky.

Not sure when we're getting in. Just set a kite. The gribs say we've got
a nice tailwind coming in a couple days and we are still gaining degrees
of latitude.