There's barely any wind. I am on deck, looking at the top light drawing shapes against the night sky.

Not sure what day it is anymore; I don't really have to think about that stuff and I haven't charged my phone in a week (at least I think it's been a week). It's all very relaxing.
Sailing is hard work — I mean the setting of the sails, tacking around, bracing square, joining ('specially with 30 knots of wind) — but right now there is not much to do. I have some time to reflect.

I wasn't sure what to expect when I stepped onboard the Tres Hombres five weeks ago but so far the trip hasn't disappointed. I have seen dolphins swimming, jumping through our bow wave, I went for ice cream in the dinghy, I've learned to make whippings and servings and splices (lazy, short and ring so far), we've been entered by French customs officers, I've played 3D-Tetris with boxes of bio-dynamically produced wine and tasted the same wine while listening to accordion music, learned to plot the ship's position on the chart, I've seen the ocean light up from bio-luminescence and I've never eaten this much eggplant. Oh yes, and I learned to sail a square rig.

Do I want to keep on sailing? Don't know really, not thinking about the future. Not really thinking about the past either.

As the cliché goes: I live in the moment, man. That's really all one can do when any moment you are on the deck you might have t… — “Prepare to tackle!”
And there we go again…