Night Passage

We left Marathon at 5 pm on May 25th for an overnight sail to Key Biscayne, south of Miami. Sunset was a round globe of fire disolving into a hazy horizon, followed closely by a sliver of a silver moon dipping out of sight. The cockpit is lit by the electronic glow of charts and radar images, blinking buoys marking the reef line the route to the east. A string of car lights and houses shine off the port bow. Faint traces of daylight reveal towering cumulus clouds. Jagged streaks of lightening cut from sky to earth to the westt, but overhead, a million, trillion stars. When you live in city lights, you forget the clarity and brilliance of a sequinned, starry sky. There is little wind. I hear the thrum of the engine and gurgle and splash as the boat rises and falls with the waves. The air is so soft and warm, you can feel it on your skin. Night sailing is a spiritual experience. You can connect with the universe at sea at night.

We dodged the first three storms, but the third one caught us at 2 am. A sudden howling wind rattles the stays. Vicious slashes of light and the crack of thunder. Heavy rain slams onto the boat. The flash of light reveals our isolation. When you are alone in the water in a storm , the 54 foot mast being the highest item around brings some anxiety to the situation. We were lucky to be on the edge and within the hour were back into the other world with a ceiling of shimmering stars.