Bermuda Is a Race Riot

I'll get the pro forma announcement out of the way: The Dreamcatcher won the race. 265 boats crossed the start line in Newport, and the Dream Team finished first in our class and 9th overall. Our closest competition was the US Naval Academy's Navy 44, Swift. Crewed by the brightest minds in the Navy, Swift shadowed us through the Gulf Stream and along 34 degrees latitude like a ghost frigate, mirroring our tactics and mocking our voyage-made-good. Each time we thought we'd lost them, their sinister masthead light appeared through a malevolent mist on the horizon astern. After 635 miles and 118 hours of brutal sailing, Dreamcatcher beat Swift in a squall by 4 seconds at the finish line. We were so close, we could see the light stubble on the young Navy skipper's chin.

Most significantly, World, and of much more import than Dreamcatcher's victory, is that your unflagging Hero comported himself with strength and courage. In fact, at the crew's celebration dinner in Bermuda Captain Kylander and several other crewmen toasted Hero's bravery, vigor, and seamanship. (I wasn't there; had to fly home early and work. Oh the grind the grind the grind.) In the photo, watch me climb the mast in Newport to check for chafe marks. First test passed with elan, thank you very much.

In the next episode: Horror At Sea; Hero Beats the Odds, Gets Queasy