The forecast, frankly, had been too good to be true, which is why I scarcely believed a word of it. Rarely are things as wonderful (or awful) as the meteorologists say they will be. That said, Highland had secured the pre-race services of not one, but two, professional routers, and their respective predictions had been virtually identical. Once offshore, 30 miles from the coast, there would be heaps of northwest breeze, anywhere from 16 to 22 knots, through the weekend and into the early part of the week, though winds would taper off in the latter stages of the trip. The weathermen were only slightly off, and more remarkably, in our favor, for the breeze proved even sweeter, and more strapping, than was advertised.