Wow, what a night at sea. My watch began at 2 a.m., and before anything else, I snapped a photo and made this entry in my journal:

*Barely Tuesday September 9, 2025

Although I didn't like getting woke up at 2 am for my shift and we aren't actually sailing, we are motoring because there is no wind. This is stunningly beautiful. The sea is like glass and the moon is big and bright. I would still tolerate grumpy old captains for the opportunity to experience this.*

The calm before the storm, indeed.

After a while, I woke the captain to raise the sails; we had wind at last. Soon, Matilda (our autopilot) was holding steady and I was proud of myself for getting her set correctly this time. The breeze strengthened, and we were slicing through the moonlit water at seven knots, the boat leaning into the gusts like a living thing. Ahead, lightning flashed far to the south, but since we were steering west, I told myself it would stay out of our path.

By the time the wind hit eighteen knots, I knew it was time to gear up. I pulled on my rain jacket and pants, buckled my life vest, clipped into the jackline, and braced myself. Just under the captain’s “wake me” threshold of twenty knots, the boat was heeling hard, waves foaming around us. When the wind finally crossed the line, I woke him.

It took him a few minutes to make it on deck, and in that short time, the weather turned from thrilling to menacing. Lightning cracked closer, rain swept across the sea, and the gusts roared. He took one look and shouted, “You should have woken me sooner! We’ve got to get the mainsail down!”

And then chaos.

The storm slammed into us with thirty-five knot winds and blinding sheets of rain. The sails were full and furious, the boat out of control. Commands were flying, mistakes were made, and every movement was a scramble for control. At one point, I pulled the cleat the wrong way, releasing instead of tightening, and the boom swung hard, clipping the captain’s shoulder. Luckily, nothing worse than a bruise.

An hour later, it was all over. The storm passed as quickly as it had arrived, leaving us soaked, shaken, and oddly exhilarated. The wind dropped back to nothing, the sea went eerily calm, and once again, the night belonged to the moon.

Crew: 2

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