Tuesday, 26 August
It’s been another “gold star” day. More remarkable is the fact that it’s the second such day in a row.
The crew of the airship Met-Life swung over Duck Island to say hello.
A “gold star” cruising day is one during which no transaction takes place—aboard or ashore—that contributes in any fashion to bolstering the World Economy. Of course, provisions are consumed but these are ghosts of purchases past, not today. This day, and yesterday, no check was written, no credit card was swiped, no currency exchanged hands. Thus, a bright gold star—like the one that went next to your name on the board in grade school—goes in the 26 box, and the 25, on the August page on the calendar.
It’s also been a most relaxing and restorative kind of day in as much as the only distance Steadfast covered was as she swung on her anchor with the changing direction of wind off Duck Island, the only water that passed under her keel was moved by the current running six hours so’west, then six nor’east or thereabouts.
A shop in Greenport has nothing to do with Duck Island but the awning’s too good ignore.
Not that the day wasn’t busy, mind you. There was more rowing to be done; a couple of thirty-minute laps around the anchorage. Ports to be polished, filters to be checked, batteries to be charged (the dinghy motor’s and ours), preparations made for a run tomorrow toward Milford. The siren call of the Stonebridge Café beckons, what may be the last fried whole bellies of the summer.
Perhaps not. As the weatherman is wont to say, only time will tell. But this much seems certain: tomorrow won’t win another Gold Star.
Steadfast out.
At Sea with Steadfast 
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