Duck Island Roads near Westbrook, Connecticut

Last night the thunderstorm produced flashes of light emanating from behind the clouds like Morse Code, and the thunder rolled and rumbled.  I had to sit in the pilot house for a while before bed enjoying it.  From the west to the east, arcing across the northern horizon, each burst of light silhouetted the low-lying hills of Long Island Sound black against a ghostly blue background.  It was a light and sound show, but unlike man-made ones, the range of color was small and the only part of the orchestra that showed up was the percussion section.  Nevertheless, or maybe because of this, the experience was wonderful.  The atmosphere was literally electric.  Even though I understand how the rain, lighting and thunder are produced, I still find these displays powerful and magical.

When I went to bed and closed my eyes, I felt like I was going up and down on a gentle carousel horse as the merry-go-round went round and round.  This feeling was induced by the lapping waves against the hull and the swaying of the boat as the storm winds shifted subtly, two separate motions.  It was quite enjoyable, and it rocked me to sleep.

This morning we arose before sunrise, and we started pulling up anchor as the sun popped up on the eastern horizon in a clear sky.  We traveled east for 12 hours, anchoring at Duck Island Roads near Westbrook, Connecticut, after most of the light had left the sky.  Although the wind was coming from the north and we could sail on a beam reach, it never picked up above 5 or 6 knots.  So, we only got in about four hours of actual sailing at a leisurely pace.  It was a pleasant day, though.  After we got under way, I sewed the tears on the spinnaker caused by our accident a couple of weeks ago.  A couple of days ago, Peter created a connecting piece of spliced line, replacing a rusted steel cable with Spectra polyethylene line to attach the spinnaker sock to the head of the sail, so it was ready to be raised and unsocked to utilize as much of the light breeze as possible.

Sherri sewing the spinnaker

The spinnaker flies again!

Living aboard a boat is in many ways not much different from living on shore.  It affords us the opportunity to travel with most of the amenities of home, but it is rather isolating.  Luckily, Peter and I enjoy each other's company 99% of the time!  I do miss my friends and my students, but I manage to amuse myself most of the time reading, studying Spanish and playing games like Anagram (often by myself because Peter is always busy puttering, although we played two games of checkers today).  Cruising is a rather self-indulgent life-style.  And it makes me appreciate even more all the wonderful things at home in California--our lovely and comfortable house and garden; our great friends and neighbors; the library and the club; tennis, bicycling and other activities; and so many conveniences--not to mention ice cubes!

The sun does set on the British Empire