Besides, we've finally spent a day throughout which most of the noise has come from the wind and the water and not from our trusty engine. It's mesmerizing to slide serenely over the rippling waves to the flutter of sailcloth. If we make it out of this lake we will have the vast blue expanse of the Gulf of Mexico opening its welcoming warm waters to us. This is what we came for.
What we decidedly did not come for were the infinite gnats and mosquitoes that descended upon us during the night. Not a bug all day, not until we'd made berth off the northwest point of Half Moon Isle. The little biters even waited until we got relaxed and wouldn't be likely to haul up the anchors before swarming us. I moved from my bunk up to the cockpit where the faintest of breezes occasionally wafted some of the varmints a few feet away. Despite the perfect temperature, low 70's, each of the hardy crew (we are beginning to think Dave Barry's interpretation of "hardy" as "one missing a few screws" is right on the money) were wrapped in hooded sweaters, squinched up so that only our noses poked out, and covered by layers of blankets. Not that this stopped the Blight of the Biting Insects. Or even slowed them down. It was with vast relief to put Half Moon Island to our rudder the following morning (which coincidentally marked the earliest start of the entire trip to date�.)