Leg 2, Day 5 – June 1

Data at 8 AM…Engine hours: 4038.9

Miles and fuel data are missing due to circumstances beyond my control

Weather: wind light, mostly clear, temp ~75 degrees

Seas: wind wave negligible, N swell 4 – 15 ft.

Water temperature: 72.8 F


I’m on the 0300 to 0600 watch, to which adaptation seems to be the hardest.  Whereas I got good sleep before the 0000 to 0300 watch, I definitely did not prior to this one.  So far so sharp, though, so I shouldn’t complain.  And I do love coffee in the morning!

Everything throughout the amoeba fleet remains good.  Stephan, on Aleoli, did threaten to kill Glen for complaining about having cabbage rolls for dinner, but I think that blew out as quickly as any galley aroma.  

The daily air temperature variation remains incredibly stable, staying within a five degree F range: low 75, high 80, rain (we haven’t had much) or shine.  So, we continue onward, day and night, with all doors open, and bare feet standard.  It gets drafty in some lounging spots, especially for Shar, but she’ll just wrap herself up, mummy-like, in a blanket.  When it rains, it forces us to close the pilothouse doors, which quickly results in an uncomfortable stuffiness that can only be dispelled by turning on the generator for air conditioning.

Bermuda is at about 32N 20′ latitude and Horta is 6 degrees north of that.  We’ve been heading almost due east to avoid windier conditions and head seas.  Currently, our latitude is 33N 10′.  At 0430, we made a turn of 20 degrees to port, to put us in a more northerly direction.  As we have no training in fleet maneuvers, this threatens the integrity of our amoeba-like appearance on the chartplotter, looking as though Jura and Moxie are pulling towards cell division.

Venus, now in morning mode, rises above the horizon just before the beginning of civil twilight.  Despite the lumpishness of the swell, the ocean is calm enough to reflect its light visibly, if not brightly, on the inky, black water ahead.  It’s a beautiful and reassuring sight, along with the first pale beginnings of a new day.

The seas are surprisingly large. A change in direction was predicted, but not an increase in size.  Some are really large, like, maybe 15 ft.  They are now coming from the north instead of west-northwest.  In our course change, a bit to the north, it means the swell is coming into the bow at a 45 degree angle.  It’s not as bad as wind waves, but we’re bouncing around more.


Fishing lines went out at dawn, as we were lulled by the calm winds.  A bag of fillets from another 39″ dorado is in the fridge.  However, we’ve recoiled the lines because of the swell.  This time there was no spilled blood or oil.  However, we are short one combo toilet seat and lid.  Even with trying to maintain some headway while fighting the fish, we got sideways to the swell.  As you know, from your thorough comprehension of the previous flying shit story (and thinking we must be incredibly dense), it happened again.  This time, the forward head, medicine cabinet door came unlatched, swinging to its maximum opening and hopping off its hinges.  This is no diminutive door.  It’s big and heavy, having a mirror incorporated for almost the full surface area; probably weighs 15-20 lbs.  Anyway, it must have flown across the room to an ungraceful landing on the toilet, there upon shattering both lid & seat.  The door is intact and has been reattached.  However, in the deep, deep supply of spares, we do not have a spare toilet seat.

In the quest to prove just how stupid we really are, we decided on an adjustment to strategy so we can continue to fish.  Lines are out.  I’m sure there will be more to tell.

After the dust settles

It’s a fact that we are the laughing stock of the fleet.  The story morphed into VHF chatter what Shar calls ‘The Toilet Seat Monologues’ that went on seemingly forever.  However, everyone concedes Moxie is both the fishing champion and the most-fun boat.  

A radar echo off to our starboard turned out to be a small sailboat (30-35 ft?), jib only flying, heading the same direction at about 2 kts.  For a long time there was no answer on the VHF, but finally we raised a French speaking man traveling alone.  Michele, on Jura, being from Quebec, took over the conversation.  The man asked for a weather report and admitted that he did not have a spare toilet seat.

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