North Atlantic

We're in the Labrador Current and the air is 1 degree celcius, the water is
3 degrees celcius, and as we pass over the Flemish Cap (an underwater
mountain due east of the Grand Banks, the peak of which is only 123 meters
deep) I am again breaking out the handwarmers that Clay found me and winning
points with frozen crew mates.

The seas are only 4 - 6 meters, bearing 242 degrees true, but their faces
are steep with a period of merely 4 seconds. The winds range from 30 to 50
knots, a peak gust at 85 knots recorded at 0345 this morning, and streaks of
blown foam are typical for Force 8 on the Beauford Scale. The color of the
day is gray.

And amidst it all was a 60 meter (190 ft) fishing boat, pitching, rolling,
yawing, heaving... the driver, a Slav of some flavor shipping out of Spain,
said it was miserable in his Slavic terminology (it "is not nice out").

And birds. Mocking us by making it look so effortless to transit the
wind-streaked swells. I am thinking about Laura and Singapore and that
helps dispell the gloom a bit. Well, and a bottle of 5-hour Engergy to wash
down that pot of coffee I just polished off...