Incredible Sail

We have just wrapped up twelve hours of what can only be described as a flawless run. Ten knots of breeze on the beam, flat seas, and Hazel gliding along at an average of 5.3 knots. She held a steady six degree heel, just enough to feel alive and not enough to spill a drink. The sun stayed with us all day and we generated so much power that we actually broke out the ice maker. More on that saga shortly.

After our 6:30 a.m. inspection, we re rigged Hazel for a full Genoa and Mainsail setup. A few blocks were shifted to adjust sheet angles, all in pursuit of a touch more speed and a perfectly balanced sail plan. It worked.

I do not think I have mentioned Hazel’s most sacred rule: she must have one reef in the mainsail before sunset. No exceptions. Even if the forecast is pristine and the sea looks like polished glass, Hazel gets her nightly reef.

For the uninitiated, reefing reduces a sail’s surface area, which in turn reduces its power. Hazel’s mainsail has two reef points:

• First reef: roughly a 20 to 25 percent reduction

• Second reef: roughly a 40 to 50 percent total reduction

  
  

We reef every night for one simple reason, experience. Every bad thing that has ever happened to us on a boat has happened at night. Fixing problems in the dark is dangerous, disorienting, and unnecessary when a simple precaution can prevent most of them. If the night turns out perfect and we lose a few miles, so be it. Safety wins that trade every time.

Tonight, Jamaica sits off our port side and Guatemala off our starboard, each about 300 nautical miles away in opposite directions. We are officially sailing the Caribbean Sea now, with the Cayman Islands well northeast of us.

We have accumulated a long list of questions from friends and followers, so we have decided to answer one per day. Eventually, we will get to yours. Names will remain confidential to protect the innocent and the guilty.

Today’s question: Has Peter Darula ever considered mutiny?

Peter’s answer:

Yes. Today, in fact.

With the solar panels pumping out power, we fired up the ice maker. Olson immediately began consuming the entire output. If you have ever been in the Caribbean heat with humidity that feels like it is trying to smother you, you will understand: delaying a man’s ice cold beverage is grounds for insurrection. And while we are on the subject, I am the First Mate. I know some of you have heard me called the Bilge Rat. Olson thinks it fits. Fine, maybe it does describe my daily tasks, but technically, I am the First Mate.

And since I have the pen, let me add this: Olson does not allow alcohol on Hazel. I feel like I am living in an abbey. That alone is a compelling reason for mutiny. He calls her Hazel, I call her the AA Vessel. When we reach our next port, you can be absolutely certain I will vanish long enough to enjoy what I consider an adult beverage. Enough with the Diet Mountain Dew and Coke Zero.

Now, where is the nearest rum distillery.