I'm flattered at the interest from so many veteran sailors. Got a good night's sleep, only woke up once puzzled because there was no movement of the boat at all. Becalmed?
Here's the final pin entry at
http://olmsteadwilliams.com/christian.html
Noon Position Sept. 9--Arrival
Slid into the slip at California Yacht Club at 0532 hours under a harvest moon. I took a shower, hurriedly prepared the boat for guests, and then Project Manager Tracy Olmstead Williams arrived with eight bottles of Prosecco and, by 11 o’clock, all my favorite people in the world for an unanticipated dock party . I suppose I’ve slept four hours in two days, but it seems quite wrong that they’ve now sent me home to bed. There are no night reefs to put in, no Grib file to study, no tally of mileage or notes about gear to mend. No day to check off. No sat phone email to laboriously file. No glance at the barometer, bilge, vane or sky. At 0532 HRS life returned with a lurch to what it was, a lucky American life with unlimited horizons. But already I’m thinking of that other, more literal horizon, now a half-remembered dream. Twenty days out and 28 for the return, 6,000 miles, two months, two hurricanes dodged, a summer alone but never alone, because where you go, I have learned, you carry everyone you have ever known. Thanks for your messages and encouragements, I always felt the boat was full of all of us, and that we did glorious things together. The “Thelonious” sat phone email expires soon, please revert to my land-bound address.
More about the trip, the boat, and what I did wrong and right after I settle back in.
Regards,
Christian