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Location: 11.40N 77.06W - 100 nm North of the Columbian Shoreline / 24 hours from Panama

We are less then 24 hours from Panama and skirting the Columbian shoreline by a 100 nm or so. The cruising guide says to avoid coming to close to Columbia because of "Pirates". I have not seen any pirates, but half a dozen freighters headed in or out of the various ports. Most are headed toward Panama I would guess. The one puzzling thing is the air traffic. Twice now in the early mornings when there is just enough light coming from the horizon to convince yourself that there will be an end to the night, but not enough to prove it. I heard twin-engine turbo-prop aircraft fly overhead without any navigation lights on. They flew so close that I could feel the rumble of the exhaust and clearly hear them, but still not see them. Maybe the pirates have gone in for more lucrative trades.

For the past 12 hours we have been flying the most unconventional of sail plans. As the wind backs to the ENE, we were either going to sail SSW to Columbia or W to Costa Rica. Chris and Dean rigged the ¾ symmetrical spinnaker, rolled the jib in, started the engine, spun the boat and dropped the main. They then came back downwind and we popped the spinnaker. We have been running behind this sail like a big kite for the last 12 hours, and judging by the weather and winds probably another 12 hours. Under spinnaker alone we are averaging 8.8 knots in the past 12 hours headed dead downwind. Now I said unconventional. What I meant was unconventional for a mono-hull. Without the mainsail up a mono-hull with a spinnaker alone the boat would roll helplessly back an forth and soon even the most seaworthy stomach would be giving its contents to the sea. The difference is the catamaran. With two hulls in the water and a 24-foot wide platform the boat easily stabilizes the wanderings of free flying kite. I think that the swells, and especially the cross swell do more to rock and roll us then the kite does.

It's evening now. I am sitting in the saloon writing this while K2 is standing watch. The air is cool and dry as it blows in the large sliding door that this boat calls a companionway. Were it a house it would lead to the patio, which is about as large as this cockpit is. There is even a picnic table on the patio. Anyhow, the stars are out and the afternoon of haze and overcast have gone away. In an hour I will be out talking my 3- hour watch, from 10pm to 1am. Watching for traffic, gazing in the inky blackness of the horizon, and thinking about whatever comes to mind. In the day it is tempting to distract yourself with reading - but at night all you have is your own mind to keep you entertained. If you sit and watch there is so much to see. In the water, phosphorescence in the boat wake dances, glows and sparkles like the night sky. The sky is an ever-changing panorama of drama and clouds and squall lines chase each other - hiding then revealing then hiding again the stars and the moon. The celestial lights play upon the water as white tuffs of wave tops break around you, and then vanish as quickly as they came.