Rig Up

Is it a virtue to emerge safely from messes you should have avoided in the first place? Last summer’s sail to Bermuda from Maine gave me more than one chance to answer that question, most notably during the catastrophic failure of our forestay in the Sargasso Sea. My friend Derek and I tell this story together to better learn from the experience and to agree misery loves company.

is my Beneteau First 42, built in 1983 and eager beyond her years. In addition to Derek, the crew consisted of Rieko, his wife of 20 years, and my father, Ted. Derek is a climbing friend from Banff, Canada, who once crewed on 12-Meters—competent, detail-oriented and steady. He and Rieko met in Japan, and she brings a body of saltwater knowledge from when she and Derek lived aboard their own boat. My father, Ted, was 75 for this voyage, going strong and toting a lifetime of sailboat racing. Bermuda tempted us all with its challenging distance, the tricky Gulf Stream crossing and the exotic promise of palm trees and English accents. Really, it’s simple: you grow up in New England,