Epilogue

Hazel rests now in Ko Olina Marina on Oahu, her lines secured and her hull gently touching the protected Hawaiian water after more than twelve thousand nautical miles of rivers and open ocean. The Last Dance from Hilo Bay to Honolulu is behind us. Repairs are waiting. Summer downtime has officially begun. As Peter and I step off her deck for the first time in months, the weight of every mile we traveled finally settles in. It arrives not as exhaustion, but as gratitude.

It all began on the muddy banks of the Mississippi. Hazel launched into that great American river like a promise. She carried us down its full length, across the Gulf of Mexico, through the Caribbean, and into the engineering marvel of the Panama Canal. The unexpected found us early. The marine head failed somewhere between New Orleans and Panama, and many days of five gallon buckets and laughter through gritted teeth taught us humility long before we reached the open Pacific. Hazel carried us anyway, steady and forgiving, while we learned to adapt to whatever the sea decided to send our way.

Then came the Pacific crossing, the one that still feels almost mythical. We slipped the lines on St. Patrick’s Day and did not touch land again for thirty seven days. More than five thousand nautical miles of nonstop blue water. We saw perfect trade winds that made Hazel fly as if she had been built for this very stretch of ocean. We endured long calms that tested every bit of patience we had left. We watched sunrises that painted the sky in colors no camera could ever capture. We repaired sails in the middle of the night while stars turned slowly overhead. We celebrated Easter at sea with whatever small gifts we could gather from the galley. And then, one unforgettable morning, we spoke the words every sailor dreams of saying. Land Ho. The Big Island rose on the horizon after more than a month without a single glimpse of earth. Relief, joy, pride, and a quiet kind of awe arrived all at once.

From there came the final short hop, the Last Dance, two hundred twenty five nautical miles of open ocean from Hilo to Honolulu. We averaged more than six knots on that last leg, riding the wind like old friends. I wrote the previous post during my final night watch of the season, heart full and mind already turning toward home.

Hazel has done more than carry us across three massive bodies of water and a continent’s worth of coastline. She has been our home, our classroom, our sanctuary, and our greatest teacher. She showed us what real resilience looks like, not only in teak and fiberglass, but in the two of us, and in the quiet strength we found when everything else was stripped away. She reminded us that the sea does not care about your plans. It only asks that you show up, stay humble, and keep moving forward.

Now she will rest in Ko Olina through the summer, finally receiving the maintenance and care she has earned a thousand times over. Peter and I will rest too. We will sleep in real beds, eat fresh pineapple, and let the memories settle into stories we will tell for the rest of our lives.

To everyone who followed along through these posts, thank you. Your comments, encouragement, and shared excitement kept us company on the loneliest watches. This journey began on the Mississippi and ends, for now, on Oahu, but the horizon never truly stops calling. We will be back out there someday, perhaps with Hazel, perhaps with new dreams. Until then, we leave you with the best lesson the sea ever taught us.

The greatest adventures are not the ones that go exactly as planned. They are the ones that test you, change you, and somehow still bring you safely home.

Fair winds and following seas, always.

Peter, Paul and Ingrid

https://video.wixstatic.com/video/9dc351_84238bae2aae47eaae8b02549d24c58e/720p/mp4/file.mp4

Editors final piece.. for now:

"It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat." - Theodore Roosevelt