No wind. None. Rolling, glassy, humid calm. Hot, no generator so no fan, sweat running in little Niagaras inside the Cone here. This will be a short one.
Motoring – diesel now the most precious resource – at about 4 kts. North. O great Zarquon, where are ya? Philandering with Gallumbits on Kakrafoon, no doubt. Get back down here and preach at us – harangue us – blast us with your orotund loquacity so the wind blows us along. We don’t have to listen, after all.
We were surrounded by fish before starting the engine. 15cm ish, flat, silver, seemed to be spiny. No birds. And, ominously, I saw little purple jellyfish in the water, so no swimming either.
The logs ramblings can be cryptic, so we have added: