Friday, 17 June 2017. 9:30 pm, S/V Whisper

Three bells just struck: I am ½ hour into my 2100 - 2400 watch after our 1520 start of the 50th Newport Bermuda race. John Browning skippered for the start and most of our first several hours of the race. He is a very good sailor. An enthusiastic sailor. He is in this 25th consecutive Newport Bermuda race (held on even years only) so after 50 years of this, the former is unsurprising but the latter must be unusual to sustain after so many years. Considering the excessively slow speed of our boat, he sailed skillfully as most of the fleet passed us- the double handers started early before most of the other boats.

"Out on the briny with the moon bright and shiny," as Mr. Buffet would have described the night. An almost full moon, pure white- almost silver- tinged with the faintest of yellow, illuminates the sea and every reflective part of the boat with a startling brilliance.

We are sailing peacefully along, scattered mast head tricolor lights gradually receding from us as the fleet spreads out with a rare one receding aft of us. With a westerly breeze of about 8 knots, minimal sea, we are making about 5 to 6 knots under mizzen, mainsail, and a code zero we hoisted about an hour and a half ago with a speed increment of a knot. Were we not encumbered by the need to constantly squeeze every tenth of a knot out of the old lady (it is, after all, a race), it would be even more peaceful and relaxing.

Saturday, June 18, 0300.

Not so peaceful any more. The breeze has died to around 2 knots and the boat speed to between zero and 0.4 knots. The sails slat with the motion of the waves making a jarring racket. "Thwack," followed by a metallic foundry-like sound and in a couple seconds as the sail falls back to the other side, the same unpleasantness.

But the moon! It has fallen almost to the horizon in the west, and is now a magnificent pumpkin orange with flame in the water reflection reaching from us to the edge of visibility.

Based on the weather reports, light air for a couple days, perhaps, until we reach the Gulf Stream and simultaneously run into a gale and a deep low pressure vortex. This forecast was sufficient to cause several boats to drop out of the race as it started.

0900. Fresh bread in a few minutes provided that the oven performs. Soft boiled eggs, orange juice, coffee. The fresh eggs were purchased at Wishing Stone farm in Little Compton two days before the race and have never been refrigerated or washed. Thus, we expect at least a two week shelf life without refrigeration.

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