Lia Ditton is rowing. What a crazy chick….
Sunday 28 February
Ensign red, seas 1ft.
The night was warm and flood lit; the galaxy blanched by the candescence of the moon, her wattage, so brilliant that you could read the numbers on the compass, dancing in their orb.
While the breeze teased me, a healthy ripple one minute, soft unbroken undulations the next, I watched our bubble trail drift off up the silvery path of our wake, the dip of the oars creating beads on the water’s satin dress. It was easy to stay awake.
My A-B system had gone somewhat askew with Mick wanting more calories than we expected…
The upshot of all this is that in 8 days time we’re going to run out of freeze-dried deserts and have to resort to eating squashed, out-of-date McVities cakes from the snack bags, to make up the calories. But since neither of us can remember what an unsquashed, in-date McVities cake tastes like, this is no matter!
Finally the sun sank and there was some relief. The departed sun shone a last glimmer of molten apricot on the flecks of cloud and the sea shimmered brilliant crimsons. ‘This is why I am here.’ I said to myself…
Sensing perhaps, that I needed a little cheering up, the dolphins that had been prancing around for Mick earlier, returned for me. Surfacing to my left, then my right; in front, then behind, they wanted to play! ‘Dream Maker’ is slow compared to a sailing yacht, but they lolled about patiently sucking in air. Then one threw himself into the air, nose-first and squealed with delight!