Love this. An excerpt from a book I am working on:
And it was. A two day feast of delectable and juicy Mahi Mahi. I took the helm so Nigel could clean it and prepare it for dinner. Out of nowhere a host of sea birds – Frigates, Cormorants and Gannets – found themselves flying in a raptured, frantic state as Nigel threw the Mahi Mahi innards over the side and into to the wake astern. After a frenzied feeding the birds disappeared as magically as they appeared, except one. That bird claimed a spot on the starboard yardarm of the main mast. He would remain there off and on for our entire voyage. We named him (or her) “Freddy” the Frigate Bird.
We finally fell into a routine. One day, one night fell into the next, and the next, and the next. Before long we didn’t know what day it was, or night. You would think one would be bored out here. There was no visual stimulation to be had except for the unbroken horizon all around us. There was nothing to see or feel except for the fluid motion of the surface of the sea. The night sky was dark and brooding, mysterious and frightening, especially during the moonless night. During the day there was nothing except blue skies, a blue sea, fair weather puffy, or brilliantly white, towering cumulus clouds. There was the constant spray from our bow wave and a short foaming wake that sparkled and glimmered like diamonds in the heat and intensity of the noon day sun. Nothing to see or feel, you say? You must be bored out of your mind? Oh but you would be sooo wrong about that.
Years later, in the Navy, I was surprised by the fact that many of the sailors, the lower deckers, non officers, were from the prairies. Why? The endless sea reminded them of home: the big sky, the limitless horizons, the undulating prairie grass or the soft sweep and sway of a wheat field as it comes alive in an afternoon draught of wind or a zephyr. I could relate to that.