Black sand picnic

Someone's got to go up our mast.

A new genaker halyard has to be threaded down the mast and fished out at the bottom. Christine volunteeres enthusiastically for the job, and gets it. While up at the top she discovers that there´s a crack in the metal thingy that the genoa halyard goes over. Two steps forward, one back. We´ll have to think about this one.

Meanwhile I borrow Christina´s sewing machine and sew a "sailing-bimini", a small square of awning-cloth with shock-cord at the corners to keep from being fried by the blazing sun, mid-atlantic. As we glide pleasantly along in the trade winds.

Not just errands and repairs. There´s a picnic this evening at the mid-town black-sand beach. "Blue Marlin", "Lille Blå" and "Babette", the wholeNorwegians colony. We occupy a corner of the wooden "sidewalk" that goes out a ways into the fine black sand at the harbour beach. There´s a lot of good grilled meat and salads, bread and cake. A fresh breeze picks up as the sun sets.

Soon the sky is as black as the beach, and it´s time to herd three little blond heads to bed.