LOG FOR JULY
- Sunday, July 20:
- sunshine, very little wind
- 50-60 miles traversed
- Storm turned south of us. Sat still
all day. Played 500. First day of home-made bread. Peter helped
with the bread - making sweet rolls. Pizza for lunch. Pea &
barley soup for supper. Request for pancakes for breakfast
tomorrow. All want to finish off strawberry jam & get on to
another kind. Joking now about spending Christmas at sea. Saw and
spoke to a fishing boat, the "Eye Lander," out of New Bedford,
Mass. in late afternoon. They were finishing up before heading
home in a day or two. We are at our halfway-point.
- SMALL BOAT COOKBOOK BREAD
- OR PIZZA DOUGH
- Honey 1/4 c.
- 1. In a large bowl pour the honey
and one cup of warm water for each one pound loaf of bread you
plan to make.
- 2. Sprinkle yeast over top of
water. Let it rest until the yeast begins to grow. - about 5
- 3. Add flour, a cup at a time,
until the batter is about as thick as cake batter. Beat hard -
activating the yeast.
- 4. Cover and let rise until double
- 5.Add salt - I use about 1/2 t. per
- 6. Continue to add flour, a little
at a time, until the dough is stff. Mix by hand adding flour until
it no longer sticks to your skin. Keep kneading it for lO
- 7. Cover and let rise until
- 8. Punch down and shape into a loaf
before placing it in a well-greased and floured bread
- 9. Let rise until double in
- 10.Bake 30 minutes in hot oven 400.
A hot oven gives it a hard crust.
- 11. One pound of dough will make
two pizza crusts. Roll them very thin slightly thicker around the
edge. Place each on its own cookie sheet, lightly spread with
spaghetti sauce, grated cheese and all the other goodies you can
find. Bake at once for 15 minutes.
- CHAPTER 15
- JULY 21
- For days we traveled through a
high-pressure zone covering fifty or sixty nautical miles in any
one twenty-four hour period. Our lack of speed was frustrating
when we thought of our need to reach Ireland, but refreshing when
we focused on the beauty surrounding us. The surface fog crept up
on us and, just as silently, lifted to permit a full-moon-like sun
to look down upon us and attempt to dry out some of our
- The ocean itself on those slow days
was often crystal clear, filled with subtle shades of blue, green
and gray. It was often so clear we could see several feet below
its slightly rippled surface. Many times each day pods of dolphins
came to visit. We heard the sound of their quick puffs of breath
as they surfaced for a matter of a second or two before returning
to just below the surface. There we watched them weave in and out
around our hull. Many liked to take turns leading us from within
inches of our bow, while others swam farther away where they
sometimes leapt in tandem into the air.
- Someone often announced, "We have
visitors," whenever they heard the first puffs or saw a tiny spray
of mist that signals dolphin breathing. At the mention of visitors
all the sailors on board rushed to the deck, cameras ready, to
capture the next show.
- On July 21, our luck changed. The
wind blew hard, sending us on a broad reach straight for Ireland.
We covered 115 nautical miles in twenty-four hours. The fog was
still with us but the glossy, transparent sea was replaced by
steel gray chops and eight-foot swells that pushed us quickly on
our way. That cold, powerful world of water filled all of us with
energy reborn. It took from us the beauties of its depths and any
desire to go overboard. It also hid the dolphins.
- Sometime during the late afternoon
I remarked about how it seemed the dolphins were holding their
breath all day - for we had neither seen nor heard any since the
wind came up.
- Before dark, the wind shifted,
making it possible to sail down-wind directly to Ireland. The
Northern Goose rocks and rolls when she sails down-wind. That
deluxe baby-carriage motion is not too kind on delicate stomachs.
Most of us would prefer broad tacks as a gentler way to travel,
but we were pressed for time. We chose to sail
- I went to bed to get out of the way
while the rest of the crew buckled themselves into their
foul-weather harnesses and went about setting the sails for a
night of down-wind traveling. Lying there in my quarter-berth, not
nearly ready to sleep, I listened to the sounds of the ship.
Frequently the foresail snapped with a shotgun-like crack as it
tried to settle into the new course. Each time I jumped and wished
my earplugs were not stored under another bunk. They were then
probably shifting their position on the floor where they were
stored. I was rocking and rolling no matter where I was. Being
snug in my bunk, I was as relaxed as the earplugs must have been.
I spent the whole night rolling from one side of the bed to the
other; we must also have been pitching from bow to stern, for I
woke several times to discover my head was under the chart
- The sails, stored at the foot of my
bunk, were keeping my feet warm as they also slid toward the chart
- For hours I counted, "One, two --
one, two," as I listened to the click, clack -- click, clack of
the wake against the hull and felt the push of each swell as we
rode up it and the drag as we slid off its backside. There, being
so comfortably safe and warm, I imagined our hull full of galley
slaves rowing us across the sea as I counted, "One, two -- one,
two," to the click-clack -- click, clack of their
- Sometime I must have permitted the
slaves to do their rowing without me, for I woke with an urgent
need to go to the head.
- I had barely put my first foot on
the floor when Fred, who was at the helm, quietly said the
understatement of the trip. "Phyllis, perhaps you would like to
step up here and look at the dolphins. Their phosphorescence is
something to see."
- I climbed the ladder and glanced
out beyond the boundaries of the Northern Goose. She was
surrounded by a wide necklace of lacy phosphorescence and sailing
through the most spectacular world of silent fireworks. Long,
graceful, wide streams of sparkling phosphorescence were darting
in and out, with, to, and away from the Northern Goose in a
three-dimensional pattern that elongated the graceful bodies of
the dolphins and marked their path long after they darted on their
- Some people say an airplane is like
a bird in flight. I expect those same folks would say a jet stream
is like phosphorescent dolphin's path. They are alike in that they
both leave a long trail showing from where they came. I believe
their differences are much greater than their likenesses. The
plane and its stream are always far away and move in a straight
line or at most a very slow arc. Fhey seem to be on a single plain
and move very mechanically.
- Our dolphins were with us traveling
at speeds far greater than ours. They twisted and turned in large
arcs on many levels with a grace no man-made object could possibly
- Their closeness had enveloped us,
removed the surface barrier between water and air, and wiped out
the cold, the rain and the need to pee. We were all one playing
the same magical game of sparkling fireworks in the middle of the
world of water. Their world!
- I have no idea of how long I knelt
there leaning over the rail and feeling as if I truly were one of
those lovely creatures. They swam with us for a very long time
that night and I stayed with them until I was stiff and cold to
the bone before I remembered I had awoken with an entirely
different mission in mind. Quickly I took care of my problem and
intended to return to the dolphins. It was hard to make my way to
the head and even harder to return to the foot of the ladder. I
wanted desperately to rejoin those magical creatures, but the
warmth of my sleeping bag was too tempting. I stopped at the
bottom of the ladder and returned to my bunk. The rest of the
night was filled with dreams of phosphorescent
- Dreams fade quickly but memories
sometimes have a much longer life. I feel sure I shall always
remember that stormy night when I danced in the middle of silent
fireworks in the world of the dolphins.