In a moment I'd be winched up 50 feet in the air to the top of the mast. Adventure was rolling in 5 foot seas in 13 knots of wind - 320 miles from the nearest land.

The previous day we'd lost one of our forward halyards when we were raising our gennaker. Just as we were about to release it from its sock, it came tumbling down. Kathy was raising the gennaker on the halyard and I was very "understanding."

"What did you do?!" I said rudely and very condescendingly. "It just fell."

I started in on a lecture about how things do not fall, and Kathy cut me off.

"Shouldn't we get it out of the water?"

We quickly grabbed our secondary halyard after pulling the gennaker from the sea and hoisted it up. I was a bit agitated knowing that one of our halyards was at the top of the mast. I don't like it when we have to use a backup. But the thought of going up the mast allowed me to reconsider. It'll be okay, I thought.

That night, the wind was steady at 8-10 knots and we decided to continue to fly our gennaker. This is not a usual practice for us - we never know what the winds are going to do at night. We have no moon right now and it gets dark - really dark. Still, it was pleasant out as I went to bed at 11:15 pm.

Kathy took over and I crashed hard; I was really tired.

At 12:30 am I heard a noise and then Kathy yell, "Oh no!" I quickly dismissed it because Kathy usually uses a surprised and shocked expression for things like: finding a small squid on deck; spilling a drink of water; or breaking a nail.

"Sean! I need you!" I slowly got out of bed and worked my way to the cockpit.

"Our gennaker halyard snapped." Kathy said. "It's in the water behind the boat." I looked behind the boat and saw a long trail of sail. This is not something that you want to wake up to. Once again, I was very "understanding."

"What did you do?" I said rudely and condescendingly.

It was very dark and the wind had perked up to 15 knots. As we grabbed the gennaker and put it on deck we struggled to keep it from catching wind. Once we got most of it on deck, we had to deal with the sock. At the end of the sock is a cylindrical plastic piece 18 inches wide that allows the sock to be raised or lowered. This releases our douses the gennaker.

The large cylindrical plastic piece was heavy and it took Kathy and me several tries before we could hoist it on deck.

I quickly checked the halyard and it had been severed at the top of the mast. One halyard was now at the top of the mast; one at the bottom.

"Are you ready?" Kathy yelled to me. I was tied to the bosun chair sitting on deck singing hymns to myself. I gave a thumbs-up and Kathy lifted me 5 inches into the air. I told her to stop. Adventure immediately rolled I started swinging out of control. I quickly grabbed onto the rigging to steady myself.

This is going to be fun, I thought. I did a couple of quick bounces to test the line and give myself some confidence. We rolled again.

I had lots of trust issues at this point. I had to trust Kathy wasn't too mad at me for all the yelling I'd done the previous night. I had to trust that this small line would hold me. I had to trust that the rigging wouldn't break. I had to trust that the boat wouldn't roll too much. I had to trust that the Kathy, Tara, could get me up to the top. That's a lot of trust. It was clear that I was not in control. I said a small prayer.

Kathy and Tara had worked out a system to winch me to the top of the mast. Kathy would use winch handle for half a rotation, Tara for the other half. Casey had worked it out, so that she was supervising - she went below to read her book.

I jumped on the dinghy and up onto the boom. Kathy and Tara quickly took the slack out of the line. They then began to winch me up, 6 inches at a time.

It was at this point that I decided that I couldn't do it and that I should just give up. The boat had rolled again and I was desperate to hold on. I yelled for Kathy and Tara to stop. I sat there 10 feet up, scared out of my wits.

When you're truly terrified, you go back to the basics of your childhood. I went back to mine and a thought quickly bounced into my head: I think I can. If that little choo-choo could do it, then so could I, I thought. I yelled to Kathy and Tara to start again. It was only then that I realized that the choo-choo wasn't real. It was just a bedtime story. I tried not to think about it.

I stared at the mast as I went up. I refused to look down. Every time the boat rolled, I would hold on with a death grip. As I got two thirds of the way up I stopped. Tara came out on deck and yelled. I couldn't hear her because I was staring at the mast. I didn't want to look down. I slowly turned my head downward so that I could ask her to yell again.

As I looked down I could see how far up I really was. Back at home, our two story house was about 26 feet high. I was way past that now and tied to a big piece of aluminum.

"Dad! Mom wants you to check the rigging while you're up there," Tara yelled again. I screamed that we needed to keep going - that the rigging was okay. My voice cracked. I went back to the basics: I think I can.

With 2 feet to go, I was near the top now. I stopped again. Tara came out on deck. I looked down and just like in the movie Vertigo the deck got bigger and smaller all at the same time. I had my legs and arms wrapped around the mast. I was frozen.

"Hey Dad!" Mom wants to know if you're high enough." Tara yelled. I told her no in the most rude and firm way I knew how.

As I approached the top I could hear the halyard passing over the block. Pop, pop, pop, pop in quick succession. I think I can.

I grabbed the halyard - the one that had first failed. It was a solid red line. I pulled it, and it didn't budge. It was still tied on a cleat down below. I yelled in "understanding" tones that it needed to be released. Kathy soon appeared out of the cockpit and leisurely walked to the mast. I believe that she stopped on the way to inspect a new salt crystal that had formed on the deck that previous night.

"Hurry UP!" I screamed. I suspected Kathy was moving slower now and on purpose. I better keep my wits about me, or I could be up here a long, long, time, I thought.

Kathy released the front halyard and I quickly lowered it down to her and then threaded a new halyard through another block.

I was quickly lowered down and when I got to the deck I stopped and evaluated my wounds. Both arms were covered with bruises at the biceps. My forearms were burnt out from holding on.

I thanked everyone for their help and decided it was time to take a nap. As I lay there I couldn't help but think: I thought I could, and I did.

We're doing well and the girls are getting their school work done everyday, so far. We've hit some current going against us now and we've slowed to around 4 knots