Position: 23 degrees, 03 minutes south; 175 degrees, 15 minutes east (135 NM day)

Yes, the Southern Cross came out this evening to show us the way south. Always a fine and reassuring sight to see and it meant the clouds started to part leaving stars and moon for our viewing pleasure.

Speaking of which, the moon just went below the horizon, the clouds completely cleared the night sky and the view is amazing. Phenomenal stars. As bright and shiny as I’ve ever seen them.

We have been sailing for the last few hours in the vicinity of a reported floating wreck. A 60 foot steel hull was reported in this area, floating upside down. We have the coordinates and it “should” be about 80 miles to the west of us. Currents “should” move it north and/or south, but you never know. It’s been some days since it was last seen so it could easily have moved 60-80 miles since last seen. It’s a little spooky sailing in the dark knowing this thing is out here. Even time a wave really “thumps” the hull you give a little start. We will be very glad to be well past this beast.

I’m in a better mood today (as you might be able to tell) now that I have my sea legs. The first couple days are always a bit tough and especially so when it’s so rough and windy. But this morning I emerged “a new man” much to Ann’s relief, I suspect.

This evening I put on long pants (as did Ann) as it’s getting a bit chilly already. Well, really if you’ve been in the tropics as we have for five or six months anything cooler than 75 degrees F is cool. Anyway, it always feels strange to put on pants – not having worn them for five months or so.

So here we are in the dark sailing along. It’s still bumpy, but not as bad as yesterday. We’re going a bit into the waves instead of sliding down them as we might prefer. Charisma’s bow is frequently buried in a wave as she exuberantly romps toward NZ. Thank goodness her stern (where we sit in the cockpit) is more sensible and chooses to stay above the waves. Although we have taken more big splashes on this trip so far than our whole crossing from Mexico to NZ. We’ve been taking the tops of some of the large waves crossing our beam – meaning 20-30 gallons or more water very suddenly ends up nearly in our laps. Fortunately our dodger (in living up to its name) deflects most of it and we stay dry as long as we don’t stick our heads out.

Lastly, we received some sad news. Orcinius John’s beloved ice-maker has died. Actually it is beloved of the entire cruising community and will be sorely missed. There have been many a happy evening with “the fleet” partying on Orcinius in the 90 degree tropical heat enjoying mounds of ice for our cocktails. What will we do??! As we understand it, John was last seen sitting on Orcinius’ lanai staring at a couple of plain old ice trays trying to figure out where you’re supposed to plug them in.

And that’s the news for today.

PS from Ann: Last night’s watch was full of moonlight and stars. Until the clouds started rolling through. And mostly they moved quickly over us. At one point I looked up to see a single star shining down on me. The amazing part is that the entire sky was full of clouds. How did this one peek through? I called out a “Hello star! Which one of my beloved family are you?” And then I immediately realized it must be Bev’s Star! My sister Beverly passed away far too early in her life but I often feel her presence. When I shared quilt squares with my weaving ladies in Fulanga I gave them the pattern called Bev’s star. And here she was again! I looked at my watch and it was 12:03 on November 3rd, Bev’s birthday. Hello Bev!