We started our watch with 124 miles to go to Kitchen Shoals (that deadly guardian of Bermuda’s north shore).  After my hour at the helm it was 115 to go.  The horizon started going grey in front of us, and the wind started picking up.  We were afraid (cautious) about storms.  9AM, the wind went forward, we changed from the zero to the jib top, which allowed us to sail higher on the wind and keep our course roughly down the rhumb line.  At 9:20 I sat in at the nav table, assisted in recording the positions of our competitors in our division and the faster division.  We noticed right away that a number of our opponents were EAST of the rhumb line ... historically an unorthodox strategy. The wind continued to go lighter and forward ... around 11AM we changed to the medium #1 headsail, which allowed us to point higher.   Now we were virtually "on the wind", beating, after 2.5 days of downwind sailing.  By noon the wind lightened again and we changed to the light #1 headsail. The afternoon was sunny, hot, humid, with light wind.  Frustrating.  Off watch, I made a LOT of Gatorade from spring water in bottles and powdered mix  We needed it.  From 2PM on the wind didn't exceed 6 kts.  We kept all people to leeward, even sleeping. Lunch was wrap sandwiches, dinner was chicken and spinach.  Another fine meal.  Desert was homemade cookies and brownies.  THANK YOU Luanne ... you really know how to cheer some weary spirits!  :)
			Back on watch at 6PM.  Sunset around 7:30.  There are long, low swells and a few angry clouds on the horizon.  We're now tacking toward Bermuda, playing the wind shifts, trying to figure out what clouds are generating what wind.  One of the big cloud formations to port, Dobbs looks over and pronounces, "That cloud has bad voodoo, let's get away".  We tacked over and got away.  It seemed to work ... boatspeed picked up.  Gotta respect (and avoid) voodoo!  But … turns out a number of our competitors made a good choice in going left 80 miles back … there was better wind pressure 15 miles to our left, and our radar showed them moving better than we were. When our watch finished our crew captain Steve Heimlich declared "full press" to the finish.  No off-watch ... just sleeping on the rail.  I helmed the last half hour of our watch ... then Steve told me to "stay on".  He was saving his drivers for later.  Again that night (same as the night before) the conditions were TOUGH steering ... light and variable winds, DARK, NO horizon, no moon, misty, few stars ... strictly steering "by the numbers".  Tough when you're already way tired (which I was).  I steered half an hour into the other watch, then begged off.  I was done, and it was starting to show as my steering started to increasingly wander.  Dozed a bit on the leeward deck.  NOT comfortable ... but that's where the weight needed to be.
			We're going slowly, it' frustrating, we REALLY want to truck toward the finish at 9 knots, but we're making 3 - 6 knots, and fighting for every mile.  We slowly, slowly closed on the island.  First we hoped for a 10PM finish ... then a midnight finish.  We’re going slower and slower and the wind continues to ease.  Finally we're 5 miles to go ... but just making only 3 knots boat speed.  Just prior to arriving at Kitchen Shoals I overheard our owner ask Cap't Rick about making sure the refrigerator was in order.  I knew that was code …   :)  We round the shoal and head toward Mills Light.  Now I'm spending most of my time at the nav table.  Jack Harvey doesn't need help ... but he's tired (we ALL are), and I'm relaying info from nav to the cockpit.  He and I also go over the finish line requirements and TRIPLE check the requirements.  It’s NOT OK to sail 600+ miles, only to have a tired nav team blow the finish   He briefs me on what I should tell to the deck crew about illuminating the sail with the BIG light ... it's complicated ... I suggest to Jack, I'll do it.  Good idea we both agree.  One less explanation which could go wrong.
		With 5 minutes to go I illuminate our sail # (USA 42233) with the powerful handheld searchlight (prior to lighting it up I warn the cockpit crew that their night vision will be affected … it’s a REALLY powerful light).  Again with three min to go ... again as we approach and cross the line.  3-something AM ... we're all tired ... but we finished.  We clear the line and start dropping sails.  Once we were sure no lines were in the water Cap't Rick starts the motor and I gave him the bearing toward the passage around St. David’s lighthouse.  He briefly handed off the wheel ... heads below ... and starts handing up cold Heinekens to the crew.  Sweet!  :)  Nothing like a cold beer at 4AM when you’re exhausted, tired, but happy! The sun was rising as we motored though the North passage to Hamilton harbor.  Dawn over Bermuda ... one of the lovelier sights on the planet..  We continued cleaning up lines and sails.  A few fellows grabbed some sleep.  We docked at the Royal Bermuda Yacht Club around 7AM, tired, happy