Close Call

Madeira’s lights start blurring into the hillsides until they look like fireflies. The sky is pitch black already and the water is, too. At 9.4 knots we rush through the Atlantic, close to the wind, on the port side. 28 knots, at altitudes over 30, put pressure on the sails. Wearing my safety vest in the cockpit, I brace my feet against the table. And my head against the bimini, which billows like a third sail on my neck.