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There was great excitement to untie the lines and leave the dock to begin our journey. Hazel was ready for the challenge. Our plan was to exit Lake Pontchartrain and tuck in behind a small chain of islands for one last night before continuing on into the open Gulf of America. That was the plan. Plans change. Hazel had other ideas. Four hours into the journey, Hazel started spewing water everywhere. We spent about three hours trying to understand and diagnose the issue and mak

Preparing Hazel for Offshore It’s been a while. Hazel has been resting safely in New Orleans, but now it’s time for her to do what she was built to do, sail oceans. We’re finally ready to begin Phase II of our global circumnavigation. This next leg takes us from the Gulf of Mexico into the Caribbean Sea, with our first stop at Shelter Bay Marina in Panama. Based on the current weather forecast, the passage from NOLA to Panama should take about ten days, nonstop. From there, w

We Made It, Hazel’s First Chapter Ends at the Gulf. After 1,539 twisty, looping, snake-like nautical miles, we’ve reached the end of the mighty Mississippi. Hazel is docked, resting, and so are we. And yes, we both agreed: we’re never doing that again. Reflections from the River The upper Mississippi gave us moments of pure magic, solitude, beauty, and a kind of quiet joy that’s hard to describe. But as we moved south, that magic was increasingly paired with frustration, exha

Peter once quipped that sailing is 90% boredom and 10% terror. Well, Sunday morning delivered that 10% terror, at full volume. The day began in postcard fashion: clear skies, perfect temperature, and the kind of gentle morning that makes you believe the river is your friend. Then we rounded a bend and headed east. That’s when the fog rolled in. Visibility dropped to less than 40 feet. Hazel was now southbound, blindfolded, and barreling downriver. To make matters worse, a bar

The morning greeted us with grace, no wind, no chop, just a glassy river and golden light as we passed the charming town of Natchez, Mississippi. Hazel was eager to stretch her legs, and we obliged with nearly 11 hours of downstream travel. She handled it beautifully. If you recall, we’re working a four-day strategy to navigate New Orleans safely. Today marked Stage One: complete. Tonight, we begin refining the timing and logistics for days two through four. It’s a puzzle of

The weather was on our side again today: warm sun, gentle breeze, and skies that made you believe in good fortune. But docking Hazel? That was a different story. We attempted to tie off at a steel barge platform smack in the middle of a bend on the main channel of the Mississippi. The current was clocking in at 5 knots, sounds tame, but it felt like the river was flexing its muscles. Add in the chop from passing tugs, and Hazel became a handful. Precision was nearly impossibl

Today can only be described as glorious. If every day on the river were like this, I’m convinced everyone would be doing what we’re doing. After three straight days of wind and wet, this calm, sun-drenched stretch felt like a gift. We strung up a full clothesline to dry out our soggy gear, yes, we looked like a third-rate shanty town, but with no one around but tug captains, who’s judging? Speaking of tug captains, Peter and I have a theory: somewhere, a massive grain deal mu

Today was nothing short of a tempestuous thrill ride. If the rain wasn’t slapping your face like a rogue loofah, or worse, a Milwaukee sander, the wind was busy whipping up whitecaps and rolling waves with theatrical flair. We clocked a steady 27 to 32 knots, and despite the river’s serpentine twists, the wind somehow managed to stay stubbornly on the nose. Go figure. Progress was slow. Painfully slow. In contrast to past days when we reveled in current-assisted speed records

As we continued our journey downriver, Arkansas held steady to starboard, while the great state of Mississippi finally appeared to port. There’s something deeply satisfying about crossing into a new state, it’s a tangible reminder that we’re truly making progress, one river mile at a time. We’re always chasing records, and today we hit a new one: the Mississippi reached a depth of 65 feet beneath us. For context, the average channel depth along the river ranges from 20 to 50

Memphis dead ahead! I’ve got eyes on it! But before we roll into town, we’ve got a bit of river choreography to pull off: a 30-footer heading downstream, another 30-footer coming up, and Hazel caught smack in the middle of a squeeze play. The channel’s no ballroom, it’s tight. That striking arch up ahead is the Hernando De Soto Bridge, Memphis’s unofficial welcome mat. At night, they light it up like a showpiece, it’s a stunning sight. We lucked out with a secure overnight sp

It started like any other day. And yet, as the photos will show, everything shifted. Missouri and Illinois had their own rhythm, but crossing into Tennessee and Arkansas? A whole new story unfolded. And to my future son-in-law Hayden, born and bred in Kentucky, I owe you an apology. I didn’t give your home state its due. That said, the sliver of Kentucky that brushes the Mississippi… there’s potential there. Promise. As we near the end of our journey down the upper Mississipp

It’s hard to believe we’ve been aboard Hazel for two weeks. In some ways, it feels like we just waved goodbye to Lake City. In others, particularly if you rank time by scent, it feels like we’ve been living on this boat far too long. Last night brought a small but mighty victory: we fixed the inverter! That means we’re back online and can finally use our regular household items that require AC power and do not rely on 12V. Barge traffic has picked up, and so has the scale. To

Thursday kicked off with another stellar breakfast courtesy of camp chef Peter Darula: eggs, hot dogs, and grilled chili peppers. Honestly, it doesn’t get much better when you’re launching into a day that might test every ounce of planning and patience. But before we dive into today’s adventure, let’s rewind a bit. You may have noticed the photo count has dropped. That’s thanks to a perfect storm of electrical hiccups and cord casualties. Hazel’s inverter, our magical device

We will start with a few highlights to kick off today’s diary, then get down to business. Around Red Wing on our stretch of the Mississippi, the wing dams stay submerged and rarely make an appearance. But further south, they’re a different story, larger, clearly visible, and safely out of the way. You’ll never accidentally run over one down there, which I really appreciate. I know, I know, I keep saying no more house photos. But credit where it’s due: I admire a man who build

The day kicked off on a high note, Peter whipped up a delicious breakfast of eggs and spicy sausage. It was the perfect fuel for whatever the river had in store for us. After we cast off and continued downriver, we passed the welcoming city of Clarksville, Missouri. One of the photos shows the walking dam, and another captures a simple, lovely riverfront home just beyond town. I’ve always admired a well-kept lawn, and this one was a beauty. It’s the kind of place anyone could

If you recall, the last photo set captured our final sunset in Fort Madison. Now, we greet day seven with a fresh sunrise over the same waters, new light, new stories. Capturing wind in a photo is nearly impossible, but if you look closely at the lower right corner above the BNG instrument, you’ll see the evidence: we faced a steady 20 to 25 knots of wind dead on the bow, which made progress painfully slow. Day seven began with heavy wave chop and sizable swells. South of For

Shouldn’t sailors always check the weather? I’ve checked the forecast more often from my living room than I have aboard Hazel, but that’s about to change. This morning, Peter and I paid the price for our oversight. With the butterfly hatch wide open, port holes ajar, and the companionway inviting in fresh air, we thought we’d engineered the perfect breeze. Instead, we woke to a full-blown indoor rainstorm. The cabin was soaked. Lesson learned: ventilation is great until the s

A few of you have been curious about what life is really like aboard Hazel, so today, we're pulling back the curtain and giving you a peek into her glamorous underbelly. Known as the " Quart Berth," - This is Paul's sleeping nook This is the original hanging locker in the quarter berth, now cleverly repurposed into an electrical hub. It houses essential components like the inverter, solar charge controllers, and other key systems that keep Hazel running smoothly. This is wher

We began the day threading our way through a gauntlet of bridges, four in total, each spanning 60 to 64 feet, and one lock, all within the first 90 minutes. It was a high-stress, high-coordination morning. At Lock & Dam 15, the lock master was a marvel of efficiency. He opened the gates, locked us through, signaled the highway to close, and swung the traffic bridge open. I’m fairly certain he even phoned ahead to the railroad swing bridge, which opened just as we approached.

Day 5 began on a high note. Both of us slept deeply and woke refreshed. We departed around 7:15 AM and the morning quickly turned into a series of riverine adventures. First came Lock and Dam 13 followed by two swing railroad bridges and four of those deceptive “not so high high bridges.” We couldn’t get the operator of the first railroad swing bridge to respond. No radio reply, no movement. After repeated attempts we contacted Port Operations at L&D 13 who gave us his direct