Yesterday was the anniversary of my first week on the boat. To celebrate, I spent yet another hour in the forepeak. Why, you ask? Well, it seems my hair has decided to rebel against me and is currently in what can only be described as one massive dreadlock. Since our second day at sea, I have spent at least one hour daily picking my hair apart strand by strand in an attempt to salvage it. The threats from my crew members of cutting it off in my sleep or dumping the galley bucket on my head have only become more frequent. I fear for my hair as we near the equator where it is customary for the equatorial crossing virgins to be formally inducted (read: hazed) into King Neptune's Court. I hope my skipper's elusive gold hot shorts make an appearance. I would perhaps be willing to make a barter for a small piece of the rat on my head for this sight....
Today was filled with squalls of painful rain. We put in and took out no less than five reefs within only a few hours. I am happy for the change in weather as storms bring wind, and for the last three days, we have had several periods of quite literally no wind at all. What a strange feeling it is to bob around in the middle of a giant vast of sea, with no moon or stars, just the quiet lapping of water against an unmoving hull. We kept ourselves entertained by throwing garbage over the side and seeing whether it or the boat would move faster. Trivia helps as well, although our watch has become acustomed to having two active crew whilst the others take the time to catch up on extra sleep. No wind means no life jackets, and more importantly no heel to the boat making maneuverability much easier. Frustrations rise, however, as our position in the race drops back significantly with every weather lull.
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