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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