Well, at least, there is quite amazing things coming from way above as I was just about to witness. My brother woke me around 3:30 in the morning of day thirteen for my watch. Actually, a thing not very necessary, as with the low wind and us motoring most of the way, the nights were so calm that everyone on deck fell asleep anyway during the night. On the other hand, the morning watch made it worthwhile staying awake as you got a good start into the day, which, around the equator, goes from 6 a.m. to 6 p.m., quite exactly. Soon after I'd started my watch I went to pee over the side. It was a nice scenery peeing into the open ocean at night, the clear firmament all around and above one. Most of the few clouds had disappeared throughout the night and the sky was crystal clear with millions of stars shining down on me. Then someone shone a light on me, from outside the boat. Interesting. With many miles to see up to the horizon and no ships in sight a second ago (I was now looking down at was I was doing), it was very unlikely someone was playing around with a flashlight outside our boat sticking it right in my face. I looked up and stood bemazed at what I got to see. Right in front of me, a big bright meteorite was falling very close to the horizon. And it was so close to me, I could see it very clearly in glowing colors from red and orange to yellow and clear white into a long tail. And it didn't seem to stop falling and as it did I could observe how it broke into three even pieces before the glow suddenly disappeared a short way before it hit the horizon. I stood for a moment in pure amazement and then continued my business I'd come to the side of the boat for. The sight had filled me with absolute joy and the captain later granted one wish for every one of the three pieces. A short time later though, serious concerns started to accompany my joy. I wondered if and where that meteorite had gone down and if I was to expect a huge wave coming from the point of impact soon and what I would be to do then. Minutes later, I put those thoughts aside and did well so. There was not a sign of a wave or any other apparent danger. This boat trip would rate among the safest in the history of seamanship if it wasn't for this tricky boat.
Now to the bad things coming from above. First of all, I should mention again all the birds' poo. But just that being rather unpleasant, the real danger was the birds themselves. Not for us, that is, but for the poor flying fish. They exist in abundance out in the Indian Ocean and feed an abundance of sea birds. So far, I'd counted four bird species that seemed to live more or less on the open water, with the majority being the kind sitting on our boat. Flying fish seemed to be their only kind of food. The evolutional enchancements have pushed those fish into an ecological corner. While being hunted from below by barracuda, tuna, makreel, shark and the like they have their unique way of escaping through the air, where they travel much faster. But in the exact moment they appear near or above the waterline there is squadrons of predatory birds waiting. In what looks like small air battles, the birds shoot down on the schools of fish that fly above the water sometimes for a hundred meters. And, just as true for humans as for flying fish, bad pilots die. If they come up in the wrong place at the wrong time, they die. If they don't, they might die, too. And if they happen to fly and bump their heads on the deck of the only lonely ship for miles and miles around they definately die. And they might get fried before they get eaten.
With just enough wind to hold the sails up we were motorsailing along, a good current giving us a bit of a push. Oil and water were checked midday and everything was fine. To our surprise we'd now used less diesel than before. Would our assumptions of the diesel tank broadening towards the bottom prove to be true and we'd be able to run on engine more than we'd calculated on the base of our current consumption? With just no wind ahead we'd need that to be able to be at least close to our time goals. With so much diesel already used we were now on the way to stop at the southernmost atoll of the Maldives to fuel up. We were coming close with just under a thousand miles to go, so about nine or ten days. It was funny how the perception of distances and time changed with one getting used to ones means of transport.
captains log:
Frankie sees a meteorite break in three pieces
Overcast sky, shifting winds, many sail changes port to stb.
0815 NE4-5kn, unfurl Genoa
loose nut on main sleet pulley, Andreas fixes it
S°46 E57°32
E=185,5 hours
1200 stop E for 15 minutes to check oil + water, all O.K.
motorsailing along at good speed
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