ZqnPDC.jpg' alt='Navionics Cracked Games' title='Navionics Cracked Games' />The LOGBOOK                      From the Flybridge. Rumour from the coffee bar or the Marlin Bar, something overheard on Channel 8. Foreign Exchange, or accounts of what someone else passed on, plus the occasional photo or a mix of all of the above. Free Program Siemens Leadership Development Program Salary. All that plus a few thoughts on whats happening here on the Solitary Coast for the past year or so and what it might mean to game fishermen will appear on these pages. Regardless, if we hear of anything interesting from the game fleet, it will end up here. KATIE AND JESSIE ON A BOAT Do not be afraid to do something you are unqualified to do Okay. Ill sail to E N G L A N D then. As you may have heard W E   M A D E   I T. We made it. We made it. We made it. My enthusiasm for landfall deserves copious amounts of exclamation points, but there is something about a vertical dash and a dot that just doesnt cut it. Its like when you dont know how to thank someone, because the words alone simply arent not enough. To hold down the shift key and 1 for ten seconds straight, is not enough. Issuu is a digital publishing platform that makes it simple to publish magazines, catalogs, newspapers, books, and more online. Easily share your publications and get. The Logbook. Rumour from the coffee bar or the Marlin Bar, something overheard on Channel 81, maybe personal experience if we went out for a day in Foreign. No more missed important software updates UpdateStar 11 lets you stay up to date and secure with the software on your computer. Moonfish was built in Kerikeri in 2010. Owners Mike and Sasha purchased Moonfish in Dec 2014, and sailed her up to the South Pacific in 2016 for their first taste of. I tried it, I dont like the way it looks. Please trust, that we are beyond happy to have completed our Atlantic crossing safely, with a floating classic yawl in tact, and a relationship that in my opinion, has been sealed with 5. Landfall was made in the Isles of Scilly on July 1. We arrived to anchor in the dark hours of the night and woke to the sub tropical western islands of England. The smell of earth, flowers and moss. Do not be afraid to do something you are unqualified to do Okay. Ill sail to E N G L A N D then. High pitched dinghy engines and laughing terns. English accents echoing from animal cracker shaped rocks. Julio Verne Libros Pdf. Swinging in circles about a cyan bay. My life could have ended on that very morning. Full to the very top with delight. Foaming over the rim and dripping down the sides. Ive never felt so drunk when I was so sober. I have a lot to share with everyone. It will take a few posts to get it all out. I thought Id start with the numbers for my sailors who understand their significance, and for my dreamers who are hungry to comprehend. S T A T I S T I C S 2. YESSSS0 knot lowest boat speed banging my head against the bulkhead4. Penny at the helm self steering Hydrovane5 tacks gybes. How To Install Sun Explorer In Solaris 11 Man. Ill take the blame1. Hyde. Sail changes  Luke can take the credit9 reefs I got better at this1. I never got better at this3 salt water baths bur5. Engine hours battery charging and becalmed nights2. I blame Luke1 headlamp lost at sea I blame Luke1 small tear in spinnaker. I cant count how many times I shed a few tears, or laughed. I cant count how many times I threw up, or spilled food everywhere. I cant count how many times I wished it was over, or how many times I never wanted it to end. I cant count how many dolphins,  seabirds or the amount of phosphorescence. I cant count how much I learned, or how many hours I did absolutely nothing. For 1. 7 days we played a card game of patience and strategy. It was a long game. Id like to think we won. Yeah. I think we won. The night before cast off  we shove our bodies into the starboard side berth and try to sleep for three hours. We shift around puzzle piecing ourselves until we find a fit. Neither of us sleep well. But it feels nice to be close. At 3 4. 5 am my alarm confirms the thing Ive been waiting to have confirmed since February. Its time to cross the ocean. I stand up to turn the kettle on an arms length away, scooping generous amounts of coffee into the french press. In need of a strong brew. Out of my peripheral vision I catch a shooting star which arcs so far across the morning sky that I have time to twist my head and follow all the way to the horizon. I take this in as a welcome token from the sea. I thank it, and carry on with my morning regime. By 4 0. 9 am, we push the bow off of the Royal Newfoundland Yacht Club dock. No one is around to wave good bye. Secretly I am thankful for this. I surprise myself in feeling nothing. As if we are departing for another day trip. Im not necessarily excited. My tummy isnt churning. I do not feel fear. I oddly dont feel much. Five months of anticipation and I have exhausted myself of every emotion. I feel ready, thats all. I am ready. I dont cry surprising I dont gaze back at the docks as if its the last land I will ever see surprising I dont look ahead to the expanse of the sea and shit myself very surprising I dont look at Luke to check on his emotional status not surprising considering his emotions are flat lined 9. We drink coffee and listen to the local radio station. We glide forward through Conception Bay under the stars and wait for the wind. What I dont yet know, is that the next 1. The sunrise back lights the rugged Newfoundland Coast. I take notes on its beauty but dont linger for long in concern of experiencing any kind of land attachment. I unwind and strip off layers of clothes as the sun cultivates heat. By the time it summits I am naked. This is without question, the hottest day we have encountered. The breeze light as one could release from their own lungs. The sails snap full with air, and then fall slack, over and over again. At 2. 5 knots, this could take a while. I download a weather forecast from Mazu, curious to see when the wind will come. Three ice bergs float the horizon, and appear contradictory to the days temperatures. I check the water temp, its one degree above freezing. This confirms that yes, they are indeed going nowhere fast. They shine shockingly white. Each one appears and disappears into the swells. They are a kind reminder to keep alert. We have 3. 00 miles until exiting the ice limit. A duo of Puffins awkwardly skim the surface. Their geometric faces are separated by blocks of black and white, trimmed with sherbet orange beaks. They are littler than I expect, cuter than I expect, and I wish deeply that I could keep one. But they are monogamous and I couldnt bare to take one from another so that means I will have to keep two. I wonder what Luke will think when he wakes to Puffin pets on my shoulders. Minke whales surface as we pass Cape St. Francis in a pod of two, one dorsal fin next to another. These animals in pairs assure me that traveling in a pair is in fact, enough. That Luke and I being double handed, will be just fine, we are enough too. I dont notice when the coastline disappears. When I finally register that I wont be seeing land for weeks It doesnt bother me. Im almost relieved. We are simply along the ride now. I see the next ice berg on the horizon, and adjust Penny to steer straight for it. It takes 3 hours to reach the berg. We sail questionably close to its storybook features. Utopian in its figure. Classic in its coloring. Inviting in the way you envision having a picnic on its timeless slopes. I want to stay and explore. I want to peer under the sea to understand its entirety. At the same time its making me nervous. Its beauty intimidating, the kind that makes an entire room go quiet. I feel privileged to be in its presence. We watch it undulate in and out of the sea, as long as we possibly can. A hump back whale breaches 14 mile to port. It launches from the sea dropping my jaw and lifting my arm to point. My reaction startles Luke as he reckons something is wrong, but he sees it before crash landing the surface. Its size immeasurable. Its power inconceivable. Its brief moment on stage striking. I cant add up the glories of one single day one. Its doesnt feel right to be gifted so many things in less than 2. I feel a very subtle shift in my gut. I know how these things tend to balance out. As my first grave yard shift begins the subtle shift takes a sharp turn. Upwards. Outwards. Stuck in between the back of my throat, threatening to come out of my nostrils. I am sick. Again. Again. And again. I put water in. It comes back up. I put a cracker in. It comes back up. Ginger ale. Comes back up. What does it want, quarters I prevent myself from trying this. Someone has hooked up a macerator pump to my mouth and is pressing the button.