Monday, June 16, 1986. I am really feeling drowsy , and with good cause. The first reason, no doubt, is the lack of sleep the previous two nights, for I've never slept in a sleeping bag before, and getting acustomed to it in the cramped vee-berth is not easy. The second cause is my initial exposure to the effects of Scopolomin , having stuck a patch behind my ear for the first time just that morning.
Drowsiness is a well-known side affect of the drug, which otherwise suppresses seasickness.
My lack of rest the previous week has denied me any sleep reserves to draw on, and the short naps I am getting between 3 and 5 a.m. on the boat are not doing enough to replace the energy used in sailing ten or more hours a day for several days. The Skipper, whose tiller trick follows mine in the rotation we have been adhering to, comes down after his stand at the helm and heads into the windward port berth for his daily afternoon siesta. For ten minutes I hover in that confused state of half asleep, half awake. Ray suddenly detects something different in the pitch of the boat and yells up the companionway to find out what is going on. Chris replies something to the effect that a change in weather is coming.