Fourteenth Atlantic Night.

My shift at the helm with Manuel starts at 00:00 UTC.

Manuel is a thirty-two year old sailor from Trieste, full of himself, not a pleasant character in his own words, and he boasts of it with a laugh that attracts slaps.

He says about himself: “I can’t please everyone” the problem is that nobody likes JK at all, I don’t even believe himself.

It reminds me of my career start as an “insurance broker” I already thought I was the custodian of all knowledge above all and everyone at thirty.

Time will soon present him the bill and for this I manage not to hate him.

On the fourteenth night at sea, the shift change has now become routine.

The deliveries are handed over: present, past, future.

You go up with a cup of coffee and go down with the hope of finding a bed, a corner on which to lie down.

Except for the Triestino and his companion, for whom we have reserved a cabin, the rest of the crew including Cristiana and I share the other spaces.

I like living with unprivileged kids.

It is not modesty or some other virtue I just want to make fun of the time and “feel young among the young”.

At the change of shift Lollo leaves us on deck telling us no squalls.

At the handover, the past, present and future refer to squalls, a typical oceanic meteorological phenomenon.

These are “bombs” of water and wind that roam the Atlantic.

We are now inhabitants.

We see them arrive, we give a hand of reefs and in serenity we wait for them to pass.

20 knots of wind that quickly rise to 25 then 30 and beyond.

The maximum wind recorded 36 knots.

Not so much, for now, we feared much more and we are ready to manage many more.

I’m ready for everything but tonight the ocean made my heart rise in my throat.

Not the sea with its waves, not the wind with its squalls in tow, the sky is the protagonist of my Atlantic night.

00:39 UTC wind 20 knots right tack on Santa Lucia.

Suddenly JK’s total black mainsail hung like a picture in the sky without a moon lights up.

“Ostia” starts Manuel !! on our left a light beam composed of 5 white points is directed towards us.

We ask ourselves: A plane? No dai is an emergency call rocket.

None of this.

Quickly, within seconds, the light begins to fade.

Of the 5 points, only two remain, which we then clearly see shattering into a dust of stars.

A meteorite !!!

At the change of turn I tell what happened to Simone di Cilento in Vela 23 years old at the registry office but at least 10 more as sailing skills.

I confess that I had my heart in my throat fearing that the meteorite could generate a tidal wave.

Manuel, who watches the story, intervenes: but what a fear I was fascinated and found the sublime and romantic experience.

As the wolf does not lose his vice, the Triestino does not lose his ego.

Taken from the logbook of Luca Davoli, commander of Jk sail