29 days at home

Wrapping up into usable sound bites and elevator pitches an adventure such as our trans-Atlantic passage needs another kind of author altogether, maybe an author who thinks they don’t write fiction. We do write fiction and we are also aware that the truth is in the story and the story is always the adventure. The truth is in the hundreds of Portuguese man-o-wars, the little fishies that hovered in and around our hull’s shadow for a thousand miles, the dorado that scoffed at the rusty lure, the dolphin, the arm of the galaxy spangling the nighttime sky. The adventure is in the squalls and storms, the joy of feeling truly at home on the ocean, the sundogs and threatening clouds and all the fucking gybes… We sailed our 9.07 meter electric sailboat across the Atlantic flow of the Earth’s ocean, 1798 nautical miles from Bermuda to Faial as the albatross flies. But, um, we’re not albatross. We are a family of three on a vessel under sail and electric propulsion only, moving mostly downwind, and that meant gybing. About a thousand times…okay, not a thousand and not even once a day, but some days we did it three or four times so, believe me (James), we did a lot of gybing. Going back and forth, we went 1907 nautical miles to cover those 1789 direct miles. A gybe (even on a nice day in the Chesapeake Bay) is a big deal. If not done almost perfectly every time it can bring your whole fucking rig down. Now, we have this really cool device called a boom brake that (wow!!!) works like gang-busters to control the speed of the boom as it crosses from one side of the boat to the other. Just like any other piece of offshore sailing gear,[…]

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