The first two thirds of the trip from Bermuda were easy and fun. Getting across the Gulf Stream (250 miles wide where we needed to cress) was neither easy nor fun. The forecasts I was getting by radio were dire and frightening. The actual conditions were better than forecast, but still challenging especially with fragile end-of-voyage sails. Basically headwinds sometimes too strong, sometimes too light, and occasionally just right. We kept sailing, but often our course was 60 or more degrees away from the goal. And the forecasts kept being dire and frightening, but the weather kept being a little better than the forecast. I didn't have enough fuel to motorsail as much as I ordinarily would have, because the one reserve tank I had fuel in (30 gallons or so) chose this leg to develop an impossible contamination problem and I discovered about the same time we got the first scary forecast that I did not have that extra fuel. I have 2 reserve tanks, but finances are so tight now that I decided not to put anything in the other one (at $5 a gallon) in Bermuda. Bad decision. But we lucked out and we made it with actually only one day of underway time more than I estimated. (almost exactly 7 days). This voyage was a lot tougher than expected and my boys really rose to the occasion. Maybe they even surprised themselves with their courage and skill.

We came into Woods Hole around 11:30 and there were a dozen or so people there to meet us (including a local reporter). But.....a well informed fellow on shore informed us we had better clear in officially before we actually landed. So we started telephoning (you know how that goes working with the gov't). Turned out we definitely had to go to a clearance port (New Bedford probably--20 miles) by boat and no we could not pick up fuel first--if we were in distress we could call the Coast Guard. I was livid, but the only appropriate option was to do what was required. so we waved and yelled greetings and headed out again. (I wasn't actually quite out of fuel--I had three gallons in jugs which was enough to get there and fuel would be available there. I had taken that out of the main supply when I learned I had no reserve fuel, planning to run the tank dry and save the fuel in jugs for final harbor work, etc. But it was hard to leave, especially for the boys. (Did anyone out there read the Odyssey? Wily Ulysses actually got in sight of Ithaca and beloved Penelope before being cruelly struck back by tempests, not to reach Ithaca again for many moons. This wasn't quite as bad, but analogous, anyway!) While underway to clear customs we finally connected with the actual local office and arranged to meet the officer at a closer and more pleasant port than New Bedford--Marion. It took 5 hours to get there, check in (10 minutes once she arrived) and return to WH and were able to score 5 more gallons of fuel--the fuel dock would not accommodate our 6 feet of draft right then at low tide. But that was ok really because I didn't have much moolah. We got back to the dock at Woods Hole at 6 and many of the same people and a few others were there and there was a very nice celebration with lots of strokes for me and the boys. A bit of a high point. Tearful, actually.

Now that we actually have gotten here and I'm back on my mooring, I feel safe to say I appreciate that the gods have provided me (and my boys) with a final great sailing adventure as a coda to this incredible, now successful, adventure.

There is a long list of things I have worried about (mainly vulnerabilities of the boat, but including pirates and freighters and heart attacks and so on) for many years in connection with this voyage. I am so thankful (who do I thank?) that none of these terrible worries (except catastrophic marital failure) came to pass. Fred says he counted up and BS has covered about 35 thousand miles in these thirty months. The most miraculous aspect of it is that over that time and distance I don't think I even used a box of bandaids. The worst (really the only) injury was Janet's broken rib. The worst illness was my kidney stone.

Right now it looks like BS's bluewater days--and probably mine--are over. It took an endless series of small miracles to get us home from New Zealand, and I'm not going to head out sailing again on that expectation broke and in debt. And that I guess is a little sad. But what a ride we've had! I hope you have enjoyed being along and that you will pay attention to your dreams and let them come true as I have. I cannot begin to tell you how important your--mainly anonymous--readership, interest and support have been to me in this difficult but rewarding time of my life. Do not ever forget that writers have not the slightest value without readers and do not ever minimize the value of that contribution. Another tearful moment. Good bye and thanks.