We’ve said all we can say for the time being, and until things change around here I’m going to have to get original. So, I give you this pathetic attempt at a PUMA prayer rap:
It’s time for this to end. I mean it has to, right?
Our luck needs to bend, soon into this night.
We’ve been chasing the cold front all leg long,
It’s getting awfully repetitive, like a stupid rap song.
Tom the weather guy keeps pacing the deck,
We sit around wondering “hey, what the heck?”
Now CAMPER has joined the mix, they sail off the bow,
If they make it through, we’ll call them and ask how.
Six days of waiting and paying our dues,
All the while looking eastward for any clues.
It’s time to go north we say, and do so fast,
So please Santa we ask, please just let us PASS.
We really thought today was the day. The guys made up some good ground last night and the sun rose to show a line of stationary frontal clouds only a few miles away. We’d put CAMPER in our wake and felt primed to cross. But again: same story, same outcome. All day we chased, and we got ohhh so close tonight before the breeze shut off, the clouds started moving again, and out the back we went. Cripes.
It seems we’re chasing our tail out here, only in a straight line east. Tom assures us that it will stop at some point, but there are some of us onboard who think he wants to sail home to Australia.
Tonight’s game plan remains unchanged. We’ll keep pushing east in the hopes that the whole system breaks down long enough for us to get through. And if that doesn’t work, Boxing Day “down-under” doesn’t sound so bad!
Media Crew Member
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