Day 26 – Tears and sweetcorn
For a few days there have been some wobbly lip moments that wandered off by themselves until today when, happily, we had the first tears of the Pacific (this year-obviously I gave the Pacific a few last year when Rosie came to play). I say happily because after a blubbering and reading a couple of the ‘Pick Me Up’ letters from friends I felt much better. This morning I had felt absolutely empty of energy after pulling in the sea anchor and struggled to eat much – most things just made me feel sick. Cue tears, letters and a few hours of sweet, sound sleep and I woke feeling refreshed. The sound bit of the sleep is important – for the last week and a bit my sleep hasn’t felt very restful as I have been having weird and unpleasant dreams, often waking up in a bit of a pickle not knowing where I am or what is real or not. But today, finally, I had a few hours sleep with a pretty neutral dream. Hopefully the rest will realise they are not wanted and wander off too.
For the last 30 hours or so we have had thick fog – turning our little patch of the Pacific an eerie white. Rowing this afternoon felt like being in a sauna, albeit not a toasty warm one. It meant that I came in with crinkled toes and hands – everything damp with the fine mist of the day. It is really disorientating having a world painted in whites and greys, not to mention a bit unnerving too. I looked round more than normal to check for ships and kept popping inside to check my chartplotter for other shipping showing up via the AIS (Automatic ID system). It is on days like this that I am reminded just how much I enjoy and appreciate the sun – it’s warmth, predictability and the way it makes colours so vibrant and warm. On my solo travels, the sun and moon are like friends – I greet them and talk to them and feel secure with them beside me.
Happily, I end the day a much perkier rower than the one that cried her eyes out this morning. Wobbles are normal and healthy and so long as I don’t descend under cloud that won’t move, all will be well. Being solo makes the wobbles all the wilder, but thankfully my months and months of solo’ing over the last four years has given me some pretty good tricks to climbing up out of them and an acceptance of them. I let them do their thing and then move them on. One of the tricks I learned on the Indian in ’09 was to make a list of ‘Good Things About Today’ and I am happy that today, top of my list, is ‘I cried – it felt good’. In at Number 2 is a tin of sweetcorn. And the third and final one is my lovely friends, their smiling faces, cards and trinkets here in my cabin reminding me of good times together and the parties ahead . You rock my Happy Socks and I hope you know it.
All salty best,
Sarah and Happy Socks x
Mrs Butler’s Geography class – Orwell Park School – Great to hear you are following the journey. Do shout for an phonecall via firstname.lastname@example.org and I’ll tell you all about life at sea.
Xtina Watts – Really really hoping for balloons and birthday bunting in my presents bag! I have the lovely Happy Socks bunting that Mum made, nonetheless. Indeed, third birthday alone at sea. Next year the Atlantic…
Alan Hind – Racking my brain to think of Monty Python and albatrosses. For MP and birds I can only think of the sparrows sketch…
Ray Girard – Thanks indeed. Lets hope Dr Doolittle delivers. Top of my list for this journey is a whale shark, closely followed by a blue whale.
Bruce Ellen – I have lots of video footage of the rough stuff – of everything in fact – but cannot send it from out here. You have to wait until the other side J