This may be my last entry before leaving the boat.  We are 56 miles out of Newport, RI.  I won’t jump to conclusions, but it looks like we will make landfall by 1 am tonight/Thursday morning.  In the Captain’s 25 years of doing this passage, he has never crossed from Bermuda to Newport in less than 4 days.  We are going to make it in 3 and 1/2.

It’s 1700 on Tuesday afternoon.  I’ve found a new place to relax and think, write and reflect.  The bench in front of the navigation station in the saloon is a comfy spot to put my legs up, lean against the lee side of the ship, feel the warmth of the sun shining through the companionway hatch, and stay protected from the wind and spray.  I found this spot yesterday and fell into a deep relaxed trance, before shuffling over to the couch and passing out for two hours.  If the captain weren’t already occupying the coveted lee-couch, I could see a repeat of yesterday’s slumber.  Ah, the compromise of close quarters.

“Rob, does this light bother you?”  It’s 2015 on Tuesday evening, Goose just took the helm from me for the last 45 minutes of my watch.  I flicked on the red tone of my headlamp, which has been my go-to flashlight since leaving St. Maarten.  The captain told me last night that the light on in the cockpit ruins his night vision while piloting.  I think he’s just an old salt set in his ways.  Or maybe Rob is too polite.  If we run headlong into a wave and capsize because Goose can’t see, I’ll take full responsibility.  In the meantime, let’s get up to speed on the last 24 hours.

It’s 2315, and I’m back in the cockpit.  Tonight, I’m sitting on the same side of my previous watches (to port) but holding on for dear life, given that we are on a port tack, and leaning to starboard.  I would sit on the other bench, which would snuggle me against the dodger, but I woke up an hour early and am not yet on watch - my iPhone is still stuck on Bermuda time, while the boat has moved onto East Coast time.  Alejandro will come off watch at midnight, when my watch officially starts, and Hank is behind the helm.  Our new watch schedule means I relieve Alejandro, spend my first 90 minutes with the captain, and my second 90 with Goose.  I expect there will be lots to unpack with these two characters over the next few days.​

You’re now reading this in delay.  We set sail about 1100 on Sunday morning, just after posting my last journal entry for Friday 5/11.  It’s now 1500, and we are about 15 miles off shore from Bermuda.  The sun is shining, although every horizon is cloudy.  Wind is around 12 knots, and we are clipping along at 7-8 knots, on a course heading of 346.  That will take us directly into Newport Rhode Island.

The sun is hiding behind a thin layer of clouds, intermittently peeking out and shining down on the deck of our cottage, the “ruin”.  It’s Sunday Morning, and departure day.  In the next couple hours, we will be stocking up on needed provisions, and moving our crew from the two little cottages, perched on the hill overlooking St. George’s harbor, back to the boat.  We set sail around 1030.  There is so much to look forward to with the final passage back to the States, through the Gulf Stream, into the lingering remnants of a cold spring on the East coast, and all I can feel is a deep sadness in departing this magical island.  I know the last few days were imprinted in memory, and I will be nostalgic for this moment in my life forever...and yet, I’m still here, in the moment, knowing it must end and wishing it would not.  Strange feeling.