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June 24, 1999
Hawaii to Tarawa Voyage, Update #52
Day 52. Thursday 24 June 1999 0314 GMT
Wind 0. Heading 180M.
Latitude: 03deg 47.488N
Longitude: 178deg 43.842W
This morning I woke for the second day in a row to a slumbering ocean, gently undulating its skin like the wings of a giant ray fanning the ocean floor. I'd decided last night to sink into what for me amounted to full on debauchery: no evening routine of pedaling for 1 hr after dinner, followed by 15 min break (with tea and _ pack of M&M's) and final pedal stint before bed. Not even BBC world service during dinner. I wanted to get away from everything connected with routine, and even chose a different book to read as I retired to the rat-hole early around 10.00 p.m. (after a post-dinner strum) to sip whiskey and read by the cabin light until feeling drowsy enough to fall asleep.
As I took in the dawn with a freshly pumped cup of tea (electric water maker still making water too salty to drink), I noticed how rejuvenated I felt from the previous 24hr's 'debauchery'. The boat felt different, the ocean also. More like the beginning of a voyage when everything is still new and alive. I took in (for the first time in a while) just how beautiful the clouds are mid-ocean at dawn: all around me in a 360 deg. arc a three dimensional canvas was constantly being created then re-worked into new shapes, colours and textures by nature's deft brush strokes. There was no finite state being worked towards. The time it took for me to marvel at 'perfection', perfection had moved on and become something else, equally as perfect, but different. What a way to be able to paint I thought. Churning out a masterpiece every second!
And the absence of wind meant the silence was deafening. This is the quietest place on earth I have ever been to. I could hear ringing in my ears from sounds in my own head: blood pumping through arteries and veins, nerve impulses transmitting millions of signals a second around my brain. All in here - not out there. Very unusual sounds - eerie in fact. Like someone pulled the plug and the world around me had ground to a halt, my body being the only thing left switched on.
While the ocean was so still I had a go at fixing the electric water pump, but I couldn't detach the membrane from its housing to insert new seals (most likely cause of high salinity according to manual), so it looks like I will be reordering my days to accommodate an hour or so of pumping on the hand pump. A pain, but bearing in mind it will be something new and relatively exciting for me to do, maybe not such a bad thing after all.
Jason Lewis,
The Moksha motor
Posted on June 24, 1999 2:12 AM