After a great day of sailing and our last supper of our haute cuisine, we got – as a final touch – a little bird playing around in the last lights of the sunset. Now the sun made place again for the twilight that will slowly take us to our last ocean night with stars above us, leading the way, and lights underneath us in the water, carrying the boat back to land to Horta, Azores, Portugal.
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Writing at Sea – Salt, Flamingos, and Haikus
But the best part? The flamingos. We saw several flocks standing in the salt ponds, probably eating the shrimp that gave them their pink color. Colin stopped the truck several yards away so Stephen and I could see the birds without spooking them. But eventually the flamingos did take off, and I marveled at the way their long necks stretched into the wind like awkward ballerinas.
Read MoreHorizons
On the early watch, a colourless sun turns the shifting waves to a runway of dynamic molten silver. At dusk, as the light leaches away, the sea turns pewter, then gun-metal grey, the wave surfaces etched and chiselled and constantly in motion. At night, there’s an immensity of stars, silent above the black sea. It’s the biggest space I’ve ever been in. It’s extraordinarily, exhilaratingly, utterly wonderful. And I suspect, as I notice my distinctly mixed reactions to the news that we might reach land tomorrow, addictive.
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