Coasting toward the Caribbean

After a bit of early morning maneuvering to thread our way past a scatter of low islands, Hazel is finally under sail and heading southeast toward Panama. The moment the engine went silent, everything changed. Suddenly it was just the splash of water, the creak and groan of Hazel’s rig under load, the wind, and the occasional snap of a sail. That soundscape is a sailor’s dream.

And then dolphins. A whole pod of them, pacing us, weaving through our wake, playing as if they had been waiting for us to arrive. No matter how many times it happens, it never loses its magic.

I probably should not say this too loudly aboard Hazel, but at the moment every system is behaving. Nothing to fix, nothing leaking, nothing alarming. The only thing we need to watch closely is our energy use, since we will be relying solely on solar for the next ten days.

For now, Hazel’s Raymarine autopilot is steering under sail and doing a respectable job. But once the wind climbs into the twenty knot range, I doubt it will keep up. At some point we will have to reattach the Hydrovane rudder, which means one of us will be in the water performing a series of slightly dangerous, definitely unpleasant acrobatics beside a moving boat. I have zero desire to volunteer, and Peter made it abundantly clear he was not in the mood today either. Tomorrow may come down to rolling dice to determine the unlucky diver.

What I can say with certainty is that both sunrise and sunset at sea are pure spectacle. The horizon becomes a stage, and we get front row seats twice a day.

Tonight marks our first continuous twenty four hour run. We have officially started our four hour watch rotation.

P.S. I have said this before, but it bears repeating. Peter shops like a Mormon patriarch with six wives and eats like he is facing the gallows at dawn. We may need to implement a monitoring system. I am not convinced he goes fifteen minutes without shoving something into his chops.