I feel like I’ve killed an albatross.

The sea has gone from flat calm to oily, although right now it appears stippled. So what are we both smiling about?
Way back in one of the earlier blogs — what was it, May? April? — I reported the advice of record-breaking solo circumnavigator Dodge Morgan. His ultimate suggestion was to bring along your sense of humor. Now we know why. Fortunately, we had stowed ours and marked its location on the emergency equipment chart that was required by the Bermuda One-Two safety committee. Ted Singsen never asked me to produce evidence of our stash, but it was there, and we’re having great fun.Right now Monica is at the helm. It is about 8:40 on Tuesday morning. She is doing a deft job of keeping us on track with one knot of wind from the southwest. “But due to my terrific seamanship, we’re doing 1.4,” she informs me. She took over after struggling through about 9 hours of sleep last night in the port settee. For about five hours, I had enough wind to sail. Robin crept up to five knots at one point before giving up her ghosts at about 5 o’clock this morning.

A few minutes ago I spotted a sailboat behind us. We didn’t waste any time wondering if it was one of our competitors. There is just no way any of them are trailing at this point. It is no doubt one of the returning Marion to Bermuda race boats. When we spotted her, she had no sails up. I guess she was embarrassed because now she has two flogging white tablecloths or some other fabric wagging from her spars.
Robin is beginning to remind me of a fellow I met in Ware, Mass., in the first year of my career as a journalist. He worked for the town in some capacity, but one day he showed me his calling in life. He explained that he was a water witch, or dowser. We were out in the wooded part of town. Actually, all of Ware outside of about four blocks was wooded. He cut a sapling with two branches — a Y-shaped stick. Then, with both palms facing himself, he grasped the two sides of the Y and bent the sides out so the pointy end of the stick twisted up. Now he walked across the street, and the farther he went, the more the pointy end bent down, straining toward the ground. When it was nearly vertical, he declared that the water main was directly beneath him.As I think about it, I do believe he worked for the water department.

I was so impressed that the following autumn I took my family to a dowsers’ convention in Vermont. They were a colorful, if not technologically savvy, group.

I have come to believe that Robin shares some of the dowser’s qualities. Somewhere in her bow, I suspect, she has her own version of a dowsing rod. With it, she has a remarkable ability to find the only places on our route that have absolutely no wind. I think she’s teasing us but, if not, she’s facing a real test.

Two massive Hinckleys just passed us, including the one we had noticed motoring. They apparently were not Marion boats, because the first one actually called us. I accused him of stealing our wind. He laughed. We passed along our position and asked him to let Panacea or Mirari know we’re back here. I told him we had Herb’s forecast, and he said he thought Herb was being a little optimistic in the wind department. But he did say we’ll get some wind tonight and then up to 25 knots tomorrow.

Watch out, Robin!