Hobo tents and night sailing

Brizo II has died. So, we will be hand steering around the clock non-stop for the next 700 miles until landfall. Thankfully, Jon's dad has already got the ball rolling on finding replacement parts, and we'll be able to reconstruct our autopilot once in harbor (thanks again, Paul!).
So yesterday when Jon was done with his shift on the helm from like 4 to 6:30 in the morning, he went down below for a well deserved nap. I took over and watched the sunrise with a hot mug of coffee. The sun always turns the morning cumulus clouds rosy pink with goldish accents, it's gorgeous. Anyway, a bird that looked like a white tern with a very long and slender tail flapped alongside the boat, going the same speed as us. He kept looking down and squawking at me. Then he would circle around and do it again. Did he want me to stop the boat so he could land more easily and take a break...?
I realized he was waiting for me to serve him breakfast. We kept scaring up flying fish that morning, and my new buddy was there to take advantage. He would swoop down to scoop up whatever fleeing little fishy made the mistake of breaking the surface of the water. I wonder if only that individual bird has learned that trick, or the whole species knows instinctively to look for something that would result in an opportunistic meal?
The rest of the day involved a lot motoring and looking for wind. Finally, we were rewarded with some beautiful downwind sailing in the late afternoon. We hoisted the spinnaker and cruised, but expected to have to bring it down after sunset, as that is when the wind normally dies. But not this night! The waxing moon came out, bright as a beacon, and so did the millions of stars. Scattered cumulus clouds were well illuminated, and the winds just kept on pushing behind us, along with the swell. The air was warm and no jackets were really necessary.
I haven't talked much about how I normally hate the nights, since they are quite monotonous and difficult to stay awake and focused (especially when the other person is sleeping and you have nobody to talk to). This night, however, made me forget the general feeling of annoyance with our usual night process. If every night included the feeling of the entire ocean willing us toward the tropics, with a full spinnaker and bright moon to steer by, then this might very well turn out to be our favorite part of the trip over!
We have come to the conclusion that as we approach latitude 19 N, the sun is trying to melt our flesh off. We have been applying sunscreen non-stop and have yet to get burned, but that doesn't stop the heat. Shenanigans has some custom Sunbrella material to cover the cockpit for times like these. However, we haven't really figured out how to put it all together. So, when we lash all the cloth over the cockpit, we kind of look like we have a shanty-town hobo tent propped up. Funny looking, but functional! One day we'll solve the puzzle...
It feels great to have 1400 miles behind us and only about 700 left to go. I'm definitely craving some fatty junk food. I think an extra large pizza topped with an In-n-Out burger with a hot pastrami and swiss on rye sounds about right!