To Panama

When the sun sets, if we’re not in a harbor, we’re on a mission to get to one. Although the open ocean brings a blue world steeped in natural beauty, it’s also wearing. On day four, we ache. Gravity feels stronger out here, and our joints are begging for mercy. Our eyes lock, and we laugh at our misery. Why are we enduring this hardship? Rationing food and forsaking sleep is not for everybody.

Watching Michael perch atop the bimini to secure the main sail makes me ill at ease. I’m muttering a prayer when he leans over the nightingale to secure the failed bowsprit lashing with new Dyneema. He’s tethered to the boat, but if he should fall, could I retrieve him from the water?

I’ve put all my faith in Gerty and her big red asymmetrical spinnaker. The webbing at the head of her main sail tore earlier today, separating the sail from its halyard. Without the main, we’re dependent on our headsail. She’s steadfast, holding her course and surfing down 12 ft waves at up to 20 knots. I can’t blame the flying fish for wanting to hitch a ride. However, I could do without the one that leaped into our salon!

It makes me wonder what else is lurking under the water. Is there a great octopus that will reach from the dark sea and wrap its arms around my neck? My imagination runs wild during the night watch. I’m a shameful bundle of fear or maybe I’m a valiant seafarer because I’m here.

In the morning, birds swirl, letting us know that we’re close to land. We’ve forgotten our discomfort and fatigue because we’re focused on the whiring fishing rod. It’s a big one! A beautiful Mahi Mahi. I turn to fetch the gaff and glimpse a dolphin leaping in front of the bow. It takes my breath away.

“Jill!” Michael brings me back. “The gaff, please!”

I grab it and secure the Mahi while the dolphin swims away.