This voyage has come down to just getting there, at some speed.

We are maybe in the process of exiting the Gulf Stream. The water temperature at 11 a.m. has dropped from about 80 degrees to about 74.2 degrees, an indication that we are moving into the cooler water of the continental shelf.

But Newport remains 290 miles away. It was 310 miles away at 1 o’clock this morning.

Monica, the source of all inspiration, just called down from the tiller that we have made a mile in  the last 15 minutes — a rate of 4 knots — toward our destination.

Crossing the Gulf Stream going this direction is a matter of plane geometry. You try to figure the angle of attack so that the miles you lose to the east are not more than the miles you gain to the north. You don’t really have a choice about this. The stream is a one-way moving sidewalk.

I was pretty good with geometry in high school. My friends now chime in: But that was many years ago.

The first time we went this way two years ago, I struggled for hours making no headway because I had forgotten the simple geometry involved.

This time, we were sailing under reduced sails (and still are), and eventually, when the wind shifted, we lost the use of the lines and bungee cord — my jury-rigged replacement for the lost self-steering equipment that had held us on course for many miles as we beat into the wind.

Now the wind has come around to the prayed-for southwest, and the lines and bungee are of no use. Monica says the first item of business (after a shower and hot meal) when we get ashore will be replacing the autopilot.

Actually, I have a very effective steering device aboard: Monica. She does a great job keeping up speed and maintaining course, better than I do. And she isn’t as sullen as I feel when Robin fails to obey my every command.

Now the water is 74.0 degrees. Once we break free of the stream, the challenges will be limited — and we hope greatly — to the weather and the wind.

I discovered that the line used to roll up the genoa — the roller furling line — has two severe chafe points. I would not trust it to haul back the sail in a big  blow, when tremendous forces are exerted on the line. So it will have to replaced it if we want to use the genoa.

We’re not making as good speed as we could because there remain two reefs tied into the mainsail and just the small staysail up front. The genoa would be a great help, so a trip to the foredeck is in my  future.

Monica, having read this list of troubles, reminds me to mention the litter of baby porpoises that came frolicking beside Robin a few minutes ago. First, there was the swirl of one dorsal fin. Then they came leaping — really little guys perhaps two feet long, playing like puppies.

Perhaps (if there is no such thing as pygmy dolphins) Mom called them home.