Check the weather from multiple sources. If there is a North wind in any forecast, don’t go. Check the weather again. And again. Plot your navigational course. Puzzle through technical manuals on how to manage the force of the current. Use vectors to plot a precise course from Bahamas to Florida. Cast off at sunrise. Drink coffee as you steer out of the West End, looking back at the swaying palm trees and pastel-colored chalets. Marvel at the dolphins surfing your bow-waves. Follow your course exactingly. Fight the twenty-knot winds shifting behind you and failing to fill your big jib. Get frustrated by the sail flapping as the boat lurches from wave to wave. Abandon your course. Fill your sails and stabilize the boat, so the crew doesn’t vomit. Jibe and pray. Pull the sails to the other side of the boat. Turn toward the current. Hope that it will eventually push you back on course. Accept that you are now winging it. Follow the compass heading that is least uncomfortable while going approximately toward the coast of Florida. Brace yourself against the stays. Shift your weight from one foot to the other as the boat rolls. Make micro-adjustments to heading and sail trim. Repeat. For hours. Be awestruck. When your boat abruptly reduces speed by a couple of knots, realize you are now battling a 50-mile-wide river flowing at a billion cubic feet per second that couldn't care less whether you live or die. Capitulate. When you can no longer stand the sensation of being perpetually tossed around in a washing machine, blast ninety’s music and dance to the boat's gyrations. Jibe and pray. Turn with the current. Revel in speed. As your boat surfs the current at nine knots – faster than it has ever gone – try not to worry that you are overshooting your course. Again. In the opposite direction. Turn with relief toward port. As the current reduces, watch as your track miraculously converges with your original course. Endure the last interminable hour. Fixate on Palm Beach’s towers peeking over the horizon that never seem to get any closer. Come in to blessed port. Anchor shakily. Drink whiskey on the rocks. Lie down on your bunk in physical and psychological collapse.
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The Gulf Stream in northerly wind conditions is a special kind of hell…
"Jibe and pray" is officially your readers' new life motto!
We thank you for another lovely entry, Captain.