Back in the 80's my dad had a Nikon 35 mm with an external flash and when the battery would wind up for the eye burner it made this ever increasing high pitched squeal. That's exactly what this pod of 38 dolphins that has been following us all day sounds like. You can hear them through the hull whistling and chirping and screaming.
How do I describe the things I've seen? I mentioned before the bioluminescense (sp) and how it swirled greenish blue in the head. The red tide is in full bloom in these waters and the dolphins look like torpedoes coated in Tinker Bell magic dust as they run strafing patterns across our bow. I sat on the pulpit and watched them while my jaw dragged in the swell. Then I climbed the mast to the first spreader to watch the show from elevation. These mammals are athletes on the level of Cirque Du Soleil. However, I didn't have to pay $125 a seat for their acrobatics. I got it for free and my vodka and Squirt cocktails didn't cost $12 either (we can make 24 ice cubes a day. That's 8 apiece! Per day!). The guys and I mumbled superlatives for hours. I've never seen anything like it. Every once in awhile when the joy was too much to contain I would yell,"Yes! Mammals!" Then I was embarrassed. I don't know. What was I suppose to say?
The moon hasn't arisen, so the galaxy is lit up like "Lite Brite". If you've ever thought camping in the desert was the way to view the heavens I may have a suggestion for you.
We've finally found that ever elusive wind, or it's found us (Let's not ever fool ourselves into thinking that we are in charge), and we have been sailing wing in wing for the last 6 hours which is just about impossible. Ask anyone who knows. The wind just isn't that dependable. We are actually going to have to find a way to slow us down so that we don't arrive at Puerto Escondido before the sun rises.
Maybe some midnight surf/skiing?