Day 9 -- The Longest Day

After my fairest bit of sleep on the boat, I awoke and offered a hand at the helm. Apparently the wind had been dead all night and we'd only made about 10 miles of progress from Port Charlotte. It became very hot, very fast and the realization that we would not be making it home by the end of the evening became very real. We started to make some good ground, eventually passing Venice and reaching Sarasota, but the winds and the current played with us and we were tossed in several directions, losing precious hours from our journey.

There was an annoying bit of optimism floating around on the boat that perhaps we'd make it back in time for last call, and that we'd be able to celebrate that night. I wanted no part in that mentality, though, because if the sea had taught us anything from this journey, it was to not hold tight to your plans when you're willing the wind to get you there.

Our ability to cope with the intense heat was being shredded with every drop of sweat that now covered our suncrisped bodies. Applying sun tan lotion three or four times a day and not having the luxury of fresh water to hose down with made for an interesting and hardly bearable aroma in the cabin. That night we all discovered the joys of sleeping on the deck. Space was at a premium on deck, however, so I had to bear the funky dankness that was the cabin's sleeping quarters. That was the first night I actually had a dream in many days, but it wasn't a good one and I snapped out of it with a violent excitement. Thank god it was the last day approaching.