My preparations for the Atlantic Cup had me feeling like this would be just like any other distance race. A week before the event, I pulled out my gear, and started to check the weather forecasts online. I dug out my lifejacket and replaced the CO2 cylinder and strobe after manually inflating it and letting it sit overnight to ensure there were no pinhole leaks. I was ready for this, or so I thought.

Moondust on the Hudson River, in Kingston, NY.

It’s said (ad nauseum) that the two happiest days of a boat owner’s life are the day you buy the boat AND the day you sell it. I was pretty happy when I sold my last cruising boat, about ten years ago, after it sat on the hard for two years when my life took a sharp turn away from the water and into the unexplored wilds of having children. It was a great boat—a 1979 Bristol 35.5—that had taken me and my friends (and future wife) all over the Chesapeake Bay, up to New England, and down to the Caribbean.

On May 11, a great ocean race will be departing from Charleston, S.C., and no, I’m not talking about the Volvo Ocean Race. The Atlantic Cup will soon be here, and 14 Class 40s are set to do battle in a doublehanded series up the U.S. East Coast. Departing Charleston on Friday, May 11, the fleet will speed northeast, finding the Gulf Stream Current to help propel them towards the first leg finish in New York City. After a short break and Pro-Am Race in New York Harbor, the fleet will depart on Leg 2 from New York to Newport, R.I.

Act 2 in Qingdao was a whirlwind, by any competitor’s account. In Oman, most teams (including all of us on Oman Air) had a week or two to get settled on the boat, overcome jetlag, and let our bodies adjust to the new atmosphere. We had more than enough time to establish a daily rhythm. China was a whole different ballgame. Due to league rules, no program had access to their boats until two days before the event. This gave everyone 48 hours to empty their containers, set up shop, and build their boats.