This night I woke up for no reason, looked around the dimly lit interior and felt that something was wrong. I wasn't covered in pear so it had to be something else, but what? After a few minutes my head got clearer and I realized that the red led light beside the battery switches wasn't glowing. The red light indicates that the house batteries are being charged. I stumbled out of my bunk and went over to the resistors, which converts excess electricity to heat, but they weren't warm. This meant that DuoGen, our water generator, wasn't working. Later I found out that the propeller wasn't moving and I thought I could see a piece of rope around it, but I decided to leave the repairing till the morning light. I don't know why, but everything that goes wrong on a boat do so during the dark hours, Murphy's law. During my night watch from 3 am to 6 am I thought about how our bodies slowly get accustomed to life at sea. My hand is able to keep the warm tea in the cup although the boat keeps rocking from side to side and I'm barely awake. Most of the time I manage to get from the front of the boat to the back without bumping into everything, I stand still when the big waves rock us and walk when the small waves pass us. My ears and eyes are constantly watchful for something out of the ordinary, so are Sofia's. Emelie still needs to learn what's normal, but she is getting there slowly. This morning she played with the sails and learnt how to trim them for a smother sailing. I felt the boat rocking a bit more than normal but forced myself to stay in bed and let her learn by doing. It was worth it, later she proudly announced with a big smile that she now know much better how the sails work.

Today the wind has decreased a lot, the life aboard is easier but the speed is not as good. Sofia and Emelie are talking about taking the hair blower out and point it towards our sails. But I think they secretly enjoy the sunny life in the cockpit just as much as the prospect of a quick crossing. /The Captain