Across The Pond………..

A Boat that sailed across The Pond

From Isabella south we sailed.

The day was warm and bright

The sea was dappled blues and whites

And dolphins led the way.

Calusa sliced the waves apart and

Showers of silvered Flying fish flew up to clear the way.

Their whirring wings and flutter splashes

Took them well away.

At night the sea turned phosphorous,

Two ghost birds joined our grid.

Hunting in our nav lights for

Bright sparkling squid.

For seven days and seven nights the wind did come and go

As further south we sailed.

The nights were dark, the moon was low

But radar found the fisher boats working in the night.

We stayed upon our disc of sea with not a sole to see

The waves they thumped, they crashed, they banged,

But Calusa just sailed on.

The water bubbled under us, it squished, it squashed, it sighed

But Calusa just sailed on.

AIS showed ships unseen quickly slipping by.

From VHF, a sudden voice, some Asian fishers nigh.

Oh! Where are their nets in this dark, dark sea?

They don’t care too much for me.

Week two turned wild and fast

With squalls that stole our sleep.

Now twice reefed down, Calusa charged, through the wild, rough sea.

Too fast for fleeing flying fish

As on our decks they flew

A sorry morning harvest to throw back in the blue.

Then Ganga, Ganga, on the screen, left.

Ganga for Kanga – just guess Roo

Unseen Ganga ganged up with us,

Until the wild was through – each glad to feel the other near –

then Ganga, shot through.

On halfway day the power shut down.

A whirling fish we were, sans pilot, power and pathway.

Little Honda saved the day and powered us up away

till next time, next time, next time.

One little nut had loosened. It took two weeks to find.

At midway too we caught our friends

And tossed a fish for tea.

The children brimmed with glee

To see old friends at sea.

Samuri called on VHF, they’d left three hours before us

And now, 2000 miles further, were still 3 hours before us.

Week three wound down to leisurely.

We slept, we fished, made woolly sheep and wooden lures.

Made bread, made cake, made scones and other treaty stuff.

Then looked about for EastWind, more please, more.

One fifty miles a day had dropped to fifty miles a day.

Becalmed. Three days becalmed upon a silky sea.

We begged the little passing squalls,” come over our way, please”.

 

At night the full moon’s silvery path enchanted the eye.

The Southern Cross southwest of us hung taunting in the sky.

The moon did set as the sun did rise.

The wind must surely come now, but no, it dies.

For 24 days, we rode upon our sailing boat,

T’was only he and I.

For 24 nights, we sailed upon our Rocking Horse,

T’was only sea and sky.

Just two little fleas

Astride a sailing treadmill,

Centred forever on a disc of sea.

Our sliding “ Magic Carpet” for crossing The Basin.

A dome of sky above.

Four thousand below, the bottom of an ocean.

 

EastWind  finally came and blew a steady one five.

Arriving with the rising sun we watched the land uncloak

From beneath it’s swirling mantle of carded clouds and motes

Ahoy, Hiva Ova ahoy!

Majestic, dramatic, bold.

Where people who inspired Gauguin, still live on.

Where we are just another Bond.

A boat that sailed across The Pond.

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