All day every day we sail before the timeless SE Wind...

As I watched the sun rise over the transom during the dawn watch,I realized I have not blogged about what it is like at sea, day after day (waiting on email aside!) on passage in a small boat. Its a pity because there is so much magic in the wilderness of the this place. Six years ago I wrote this on the 30 day passage from California to French Polynesia

"Log Entry: 0200 hours, May 29, 2005 Position: Lat N 24° 56.5', Long W 118° 59.1' Wind: NE 10, Sea: NE Swell 4 feet, Weather: Broken Cloud Heading: 180M Boat Speed: 5 knots
The early morning hours are playing tricks with my mind. It seems that time and movement has stopped. It feels this morning as if we are suspended. We are floating on the liquid skin of mother earth - weightless in the tension between gravity and buoyancy, going neither ahead in time nor in space.
Every day, all day, we sail on before the timeless NW wind, but the ocean horizon ahead never arrives, and the restless parade of seas overtaking from behind never cease. Every day the sun rises in the same place on our port side, and every night the sun sets in the same place on our starboard side. Even though the bright green numbers on the GPS are counting down to the equator, even though food is disappearing from our lockers, even though fresh fruit is decaying in the galley hanging baskets and even though laundry is accumulating for wash up day, I am not persuaded we are moving at all. The horizon never arrives.
More likely, the sights and sounds of movement around the boat are an illusion. The sound river of the bow wave ahead and the gurgle of water moving past the stern, is a sign the ocean moving past us, not us through it. Our daily plots cross the chart are just made up by our instruments to keep us comforted. I am not convinced we are moving at all. Every day is the same; the sea, the sky, the wind, the boat, the birds. The changeless ocean has enchanted us with its illusion of movement and progress, but we are stopped and going nowhere, nowhere at all.
.... We are suspended, Irena, me and Conversations. Time and space stand still in this large bowl of a horizon, a perfect circle around us.
There is no place else in the universe where I want to be. I have all the time in the world to just be here."

Speaking of enchantment, with perfect grace, the ocean gave up a fish for our feasting yesterday. A giant Whahoo. It was by far, the biggest fish I have ever caught. No fooling, it was big - heavier than a carry on bag and lighter than an checked bag. It took two of us to drag her aboard. It was taller than 10 year old, but shorter than Irena. I could barely lift it with two hands. It took an hour to clean and butcher her, and today we are attempting to freeze in our modest onboard freezer an estimated 30 pounds of fillets and steaks. Come back to the blog to see pictures after we land, you'll see what I mean.

Speaking of landing, we are 425 miles from Rodriguez and will likely arrive Friday morning.
Cress