Passage to Fiji Log

At the moment we are about 140 miles south of Minerva Reef motoring because there is no
wind.
Minerva Reef is an old atoll that is no more than a circular reef and an interior lagoon.
There is no land. When anchored, so I am told, it looks like you are anchored in the middle
of the ocean, which, of course, you are.
Its a popular place to stop on the way to and from both Tonga and Fiji. Cruisers stop,
contemplate the weather and get some real sleep before moving on. We both could use
some real sleep.

Night-watches become a hazy dream with two on board. Neither of us ever gets more than 3
hours sleep at a time. This makes us a tad fuzzy. This night-watch is particularly odd and,
coincidentally, fuzzy.

There is no wind. None. Zip. Nada. The instruments read 0 true wind. As a result the sea is
as smooth as I have ever seen a body of water. Our bows push aside silky, grey ink.

Ordinarily the stars would fill the ocean with sparks. However, this night the sky is completely
covered in puffy, grey clouds. The horizon has disappeared, not in a whiter shade of pale
but rather a greyer shade of ash. The world is muffled. Grey milk glass sea has merged with
grey fuzzy velvet sky. My world is an undifferentiated dark grey cotton ball.

I strain to see some difference somewhere. I fail.

Earlier today we passed another sailboat. It was almost a shock to see someone else out on
this fluid world. They told us that there is another sailboat about 50 miles ahead of us. It too
refuses to motor and should now be practicing the fine art of bobbing. So, I wait, peering
into the enclosing void waiting for the shock of another lonely light.

Jen