South Africa to Caribbean – Spring 2026

Ah… dear reader, you return at just the right moment—day 88 of 90. The air itself seems to hum with anticipation, as though even the trade winds know our time aboard Vela draws toward its final act. So come, settle in one final time. Today’s tale is one of grit, rivalry, and just a touch of glory. The morning began under the careful cheffing of the one and only Reed. A breakfast of shakshuka was laid before us. It was rich, warming, and wholly necessary for what lay ahead. Plates were cleared with purpose, conversations clipped with focus: no lingering today, dear reader. Today, we race. Lines were slipped, engines murmured, and sails soon followed suit as we made our way from the dock, readying ourselves for Day 3 of the Antigua Classics. The course? A true test: the butterfly course, down to Cupples, onward to Cape Shirley, sweeping through Falmouth, back to Cupples, to Old Road, and then the long, punishing climb upwind to finish. Off the line, we flew. A clean start, sharp and decisive, with Chronos, our ever-present rival, quick to assert itself with an early lead. But we were not to be shaken. A strong tack around Cupples set the tone, and what followed was nothing short of a duel, dear reader. The leg toward Cape Shirley became a nail-biting contest of instinct. Wind angles teased us cruelly; what should have been a clean downwind approach forced us instead into a few tacks just to lay the mark. And then. Downwind. Oh, dear reader, what a moment. Canvas full, hull alive, and slowly, surely, we reeled them in. The gap closed. By Falmouth, it was neck and neck, a beautifully executed, razor-close gybe that could have gone either way. You could feel it across the deck: that mix of tension and exhilaration. Then came the run back to Cupples. Non-stop. Relentless. Above us, the race helicopter carved loops through the sky, capturing the spectacle—and dear reader, what a spectacle it was. After a respite on the stretch to Olroad, we laid bare into the final upwind stretch. It was, quite frankly, madness. Waves crashed, spray stung faces, and dinghies darted in and out, each aiming for the perfect photograph. Tacks came thick and fast, more in that three-mile stretch than these boats literally see in months, as one of our lovely competitors put it. Every call mattered. Every movement counted. We crossed the line six minutes behind Chronos. A margin that seems large and looming until, dear reader, the sweet whisper of corrected time reached our ears. Thirty-six minutes ahead on handicap. Victory was ours once again, not by chance, not by comfort, but by sheer determination and precision across every leg of that course. Back on the dock, exhausted and sun-worn, we gathered the students. One question stood before them: do we rest or do we push? Race Day 4 awaits on Day 89. To race again would mean even more exertion, fatigue layered upon final BA. Undoubtedly not seen at sea mester before Day 89, a Day 89 that is not a sole BA day. The answer? Unanimous. We race again. And so, dear reader, as the sun dips low on Day 88, we prepare once more to rise to the challenge. One more battle with Chronos. One more chance to defeat them in battle. Sleep well tonight, dear reader, for tomorrow, we go again. And with that, I must say goodbye for the final time. I do truly hope you enjoyed your time with us. Farewell, and please join us soon.