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25 Mayıs 2023, 01:34
Day 30:Last night my GPS failed. I don?t know why, but my position is in the Mojave desert since 3:25 PST. And this is quite unlikely, because I am on the Pacific! At least when I started four weeks ago, in Belgium, I headed towards it and after crossing the Indian Ocean I reached it 3 days ago. Day 31:The weather is still bad. Cloudy. So, no sextant to determine position. It?s new moon, so no hint from there either. My compass tells me I am heading SSE. I should make it to Tahiti in 3 days. Day 32:Compass acts erratic. GPS has me close to the Vatican now! The clouds have to lift or I soon really don?t know where I am. In the afternoon a thick fog welled up. Fog this time of the year! It gets colder, too. Am I heading south? At least, the wind is still there. I am making a steady 25 knots. Day 33:The wind picked up over night so that I had to take some sails down. I have food and water for another 25 days, but I am thinking of rationing. Am I going in circles? The weather has to get better. At 5 p.m. I heard a strange banging sound, as if one would strike a huge empty barrel with a stone. I fired one of my signal rockets, but no reply whatsoever. Day 34:The wind eased and the fog lifted. I woke up because the boat did not move. I felt like being in a harbor. Still half asleep I went upstairs and I nearly fell into the water: I found myself in the bay of an island! How did I come here? GPS and Compass are still useless. I don?t know of any island in the southern pacific that has iron-rich beaches that could impede on the action of a compass. Actually, I don?t know any island anywhere with this characteristic. And this also should have no influence on the GPS anyway! 300 yards Ankara escort (http://swissankara.com/) away I could see a beautiful sandy beach, but I decide not to land. Better safe than sorry. I have enough food for another two weeks, and here on my boat there aren?t any poisonous snakes or spiders. My radio only produces atmospheric statics. So, if I am bitten, I can?t call a doctor. I threw the anchor. It caught ground at about 40 feet. The water was not clear at all and had a very strange milky emerald color. I could not see the ground. Day 40: I decided to run my log as I used to: Every day one entry. The entries of day 35 to 39 are empty because I was on the island. They ?released? me today, and my boat is on the open sea again. The island disappeared behind a curtain of thick clouds. I don?t know if and when I will be able to go back. But let me write down the events as they unfolded. I keep the diary form, but the days 34 to 39 are written from memory. Day 34, continued: After anchoring I was preparing breakfast, and the weirdest thing happened: the boat moved towards the shore. I ran up and pulled the anchor, but it was still solid in the ground. But the tension on the line was substantial. Did I hook up in a giant turtle? As the shore came closer, I was afraid of running aground. I was embracing for a sudden impact, but a mere 10 feet before the boat would have hit the beach, it gradually stopped. It was not sudden at all, so I could not have hit the ground. Two figures emerged from the brush that limited the beach. One was tall and slender, the other more than one head shorter. The shorter one had long wavy hair, while the first one sported a short cut, Ankara escort bayan (http://swissankara.com/) like many of the African American women. What caught my attention was not their chocolate-brown skin (many islanders have that), but their clothes. It was a one-piece that went all the way up from their feet to their neck. It was held in place by a ring around their neck. The arms were free. The cloth seemed to be thin and was floating around their body, as if moved by the stride of their legs and the wind. But no light ray penetrated it, so it must have been a heavy weave. Its surface was covered with an intricate pattern that seemed not to repeat. There were white waves and spirals on blue background. And the woman were beautiful! The shorter one had a round face and full lips. The taller one a long and pointed chin and high cheek bones. Both were in their early to mid twenties. When they stepped into the water to greet me, the cloth floated on the water. They only had to take a few steps and they were up to the knees in the water. They reached the boat and each one lifted their right hand. ?Welcome to Phatom, Mr. Branson.? I had never heard of such an island or country. But somehow from the sound that emerged from their lips, I *knew* it had to be spelled with a ?Ph?. But how on earth did they know my name? It seemed that they could read my mind. ?You are the owner of the Juliet.? The taller one pointed her chin to the boat. ?Step into the water. It?s not deep. We were waiting for you.? Everything in their behavior and their voice was so trustful and I jumped into the whitish-emerald water, even though I did not see the ground. I made a small splash and Escort Ankara (http://swissankara.com/) my feet touched soft sand. Both took one of my hands in their own. How warm and soft their skin was! We waded to the beach, and to my surprise, their cloth did not retain a single drop of water. Neither were their feet wet! Mine were and the fine sand of the beach stuck to my skin. While we were walking (they did not release me) I noticed that I could not make out their size. The cloth was like magic. The taller one must have been B-size and the smaller one D or E, but as much as I tried to secretly look at their breasts, the least I could figure out their shape. Strangely enough, the smaller girl kind of resembled my high school sweetheart who took my virginity. The facial features of the taller one reminded me of Juliet ? the reason why I was on my fifth one hand trip around the world and the name-sake of my boat. The beach had a wide path that connected it through a forest with a huge building that had been hidden from my view by the trees. I say huge, because the perfectly white wall that surrounded it was at least 150 feet wide. And it was 9 feet tall. A small entrance closed behind us when we passed it and entered a beautiful garden with hundreds of flowering plants. A sweet smell lingered in the air. The building itself was silvery-gray and was a very open structure with a long veranda that stretched over its complete width. It had small, round tables and chairs on them. At least 50 people could sit at them. But the building seemed abandoned. We took the three steps onto the veranda and they guided me past a kind of reception to a room in the building that was empty, except for a big bed, a round table with flowers on it and two comfy-looking chairs with thick and soft pillows. For the first time, they let my hands go and the taller one pointed to the glass with an emerald green, but whitish liquid in it. ?You must be thirsty.? I nodded and sat down on the edge of one of the chairs.