For the most part, complaints were few and far between. Aboard Hinano, no hands were held during that Force 10 storm, and no signs of anxiety were evident among her crew of seven. I'm of the shorten-sail-and-run-before-it persuasion, so I smiled when Hinano bore off to the east, the slamming stopped, and she was no longer sailing on her ear. Among my crewmates, I couldn't detect even marginal concern as she climbed up the backs of massive storm-driven waves, seesawed over their breaking crests, put them on her quarter, and accelerated down into the troughs.
Instead, I saw the likes of 39-year-old expat Brit Andrew Chandler, of Snowbird, Utah, begoggled against the stinging spray, driving Hinano with a maniacal grin and screaming at the top of his lungs, apparently imploring Thor, the Viking god of storms, to permit him the honor of steering the boat all the way to Bermuda. "I'm not able to be happy unless I'm a little uncomfortable," Andrew, a full-time adventurer and adrenaline junkie, said sheepishly. "As a fairly novice sailor, I didn't know when to feel scared, and I wanted to find out. But I still don't." Ah, the bliss of inexperience.