Three sentinels placidly observed our fruitless tour before bidding us an indifferent farewell. Fine conditions, short of a magnificent, long interval northwest swell, did little to expose our quarry that were either too wily for our prying eyes or patrolling other precincts. No matter; the success of this voyage was far from staked on what amounted to no more than an abbreviated, late morning drive by. In seas bending from abaft the port beam to dead astern we chugged southerly assisted by the occasional push from an encouraging hand. All passing well, all chores complete, night fell calmly and the sky came alive. The Southern Cross, barely peeking over the distant horizon, demurely calls. One more day of repose before this languor becomes something quite different. One more day before game time begins. Enjoy another image from David Itano and ISSF today featuring a familiar foe; a pretty one though.