Out here on the open Pacific, a thousand miles from the nearest land, the masks we wear in everyday life don’t last long. An ocean crossing has a way of stripping you down to the truth of who you are and how you behave when it matters most. There is no audience on a small boat in the middle of nowhere. No one to impress, no social script to follow, and nowhere to hide when things go sideways. The ocean simply is. Indifferent, powerful, relentless. It does not care about your

Day 12, as in the twelve disciples, since we dropped Steve off at Marina Pez Vela in Quepos. We are now entering our fourth week sailing the vast Pacific after transiting the Panama Canal. For the last twelve days it has been just Peter and me aboard, and the ocean is reminding us daily who is in charge. She dictates direction and speed with her winds, waves and current. She has no awareness of the tiny humans riding her unbridled power. Yet she always offers a glimpse of her

This entry is a tough one to write. The last 48 hours have been so full that it feels almost unreal. There have been highs, new experiments, small victories, and a few frustrations. The more focused and curious Peter and I become with Hazel, the more she seems to reward us. Our days are packed with action and the hours disappear quickly. Here is a walk through the last 24 hours. Late yesterday afternoon, Peter and I rigged Hazel to sail in what sailors call wing on wing. We s