Each tank is 90 gallons. The port tank is just under half full. The starboard tank is just under full.

So conservatively I estimate 42 gallons on port and 86 gallons on starboard.

In sailing school they taught is to reaerve 1/3 for the journey there, 1/3 for the return trip, and to keep 1/3 in reserve.

This is a one way trip so we have 120 gallons for the trip and should keep 60 gallons in reserve.

This means we have 68 gallons to use before we start tapping what should be reserve.

After calculating that we will need 77 gallons of fuel to make it to out turn point I confereed with Wayne suggesting we use the 21kts of apparent wind to angle off so we can sail saving some fuel and improving our Velocity Made Good to our waypoint. It takes us further South than we would like but saves fuel and hopefully some time.

The wind is supposed to shitf to our favor later at which point we can slowly creep more to course.

It dawns on me that now that we are solely running the port engine, we have more range. The reason we did not have enough fuel to reach Sint Maarten was because the starboard engine had increased fuel consumption by over 10%.

Dana is feeling a bit queezy so is trying to take a nap after some Graval (Canadian dramamine)

heading east until advised to do otherwise

Chatting with Duncan on the InTeach about the starboard engine I am reminded that you can do everything correctly and still have shit go sideways.

I've been impressed how thorough Dana is in managing the boat.

Just passed over more plastic trash.

Dana and Wayne just spotted a big netted plastic bag floating in the water. 🥺

We've lost the starboard engine. It looks like there is diesel in the oil. Stuck injector as was the case with the deatroyed genset?

We are motorsailing. It's cloudy. Waves are settled.

Woke up late. It's wuite warm. Dana says there are "developments".

Monday, Monday. progress, I'll be it slow, overnight. necessarily in the best direction. We need to be sailing East to catch the trade winds. catamarans do not sale into the wind well at all. Best we can do is 60° off wind direction. this has us pointing either towards Bermuda or Puerto Rico. tacking back and forth is almost futile. as we can only sail 60° off the wind, attack means a 120° course change. frustrating. We changed attacks when I came on deck this morning. headed for Bermuda, but far too slowly with the light winds. in addition to the wind frustration, we have lost the starboard engine. We cannot fix, it. will have to wait for arrival. presently we have split the difference and are motor sailing straight east on the port engine. We are waiting for a weather advisory update from commanders weather service. do we continue to plaid east for the trade winds, or do we turn south now and head straight for St. Martin?

My watch is over a few
minutes early. I'm wiped.

I am mich more tired tonight than I have been on previous watches. I'm not sure why. One hour to go.

(My iPhone continues to have weird pauses/freezes. Concerning.)

The stars are so numerous and bright I can make out whitecaps on the ocean and see the horizon.

When I went up to relieve Wayne he was no where to be seen. I knew he was not below.

"Oh SHIT!"

But then I noticed the tether. He was
standing outside looking at the stars clipped in properly.

I donned a PFD, clipped in, and joined him. It reminded me of that similar moment on the Nova Scotia crossing.

I immediately saw two bright shooting stars.

There's a large radar contact on the horizon. Nothing appears on AIS yet.

Backup finally done. It took forever.

In the mean time we had a nice dinner that Wayne made, "Rope Burn Chicken". After that, because winds were building, we reefed both headsail and mainsail I fot to reef the mainsail. I think I have the process down now but will need to practice a few more times. I'm insisting on doing everything manually. The effort is doing me good.

The stars when the clouds part are brilliant.

Wayne is keeping an eye on our first squall.

I took a much needed shower.

Everything in the boat is damp.

fatigue. it's 5 days at sea now, and fatigue is something we all deal with. there is no peaceful, quiet calmness on the boat. it is constantly moving in violent and unpredictable ways. there is constant noise. The creeks and groans of the boat, the squeaks and cries of the rigging, the rush and crash of the waves, and the loud booms and pounding of the waves as they crash against the side of the boat. there is no respite even in your bunk. The noises permeate throughout the boat and each area has its own unique collection of them.

The only thing routine is night and day. daytime is easier. your mind has something to focus on, the horizon. it is a steady point that it can orient to. We can't help but constantly stare at it and scan it as it does. calm your mind to have something steady to focus on. night time, the dominant time as it's near the end of November, is much more tricky. there is nothing to see, overcast skies mean staring into inky blackness. you can't see the waves. you can't see the boat. the only thing to look at is the instruments.

with the constant noise and little else to center on your mind starts to try to construct some semblance of order out of the chaos. it merges the sounds into what can only be voices or music or maybe radio chatter. but it's really just random noise being overprocessed by your mind. with no real set schedules outside of our night. watch es time becomes irrelevant.sleep uninterrupted.your gets tired and starts to invent things. and this constant effort to construct some order leads to fatigue.

with the fatigue comes brain fog. The simplest of things becomes very difficult if not incomprehensible. which way do I turn the wheel. how do I do this. etc. and nothing on the boat is simple. each task requires a set of ordered steps that must be executed properly or you risk injury to the boat, or worse yourself. have already occurred due to these lapses in cognition.and another night watch.

I'm glad we're not over there.

Squalls on doppler radar.

Rope burns suck.

"All the gloves all the time."

Squall on the horizon but likely heading away from us given the current wind angle.

Just flying the spinnaker.

Closest approach.

Cargo ship that changed course to pass behind us.