In a way, this lesson goes hand in hand with the previous one. We’d had a fast, wet, windy and squall-prone run across the Indian Ocean, bound for the intriguing, isolated and deserted atolls of the Chagos Archipelago. It was a destination that had been on our wish list for years. When we were about 400 miles from the unmarked, unlit atolls, the weather became even more unstable: squalls with torrential rain overtaking us sometimes twice in an hour; 15- to 20-foot following seas; and gray and cloudy skies with low visibility between the squalls. “I’m just not willing to risk running down on a maze of underwater atolls in these conditions,” Larry said that evening. “We wouldn’t know we were in danger until we were already on top of a reef. Let’s slow the boat down and hope this weather system passes over us.” We reefed down to just a storm trysail. Our speed dropped from 7.4 knots to about 4.5 knots. Two days later, we were within 125 miles of the first underwater reef we’d have to negotiate to reach a safe anchorage. The weather had not improved. “OK, let’s heave to and wait for things to change,” I suggested. For two days we lay hove-to. Life was not uncomfortable; I didn’t resent the wait. But on the third morning, with squalls coming through just as often and the barometer unchanged, I agreed when Larry stated, “I don’t think Chagos is in the cards for us this time. Let’s go for a Plan B solution. Let’s reach south toward Rodrigues Island.” A day later, we sailed out of the near-gale-force winds, squalls and grayness into bright sunshine. Four days later, we were secured alongside a clean, palm-frond-covered stone quay right in the center of the capital of Rodrigues Island, enmeshed in one of the more memorable experiences of our cruising lives.