After nine days of sweaty boat fiddling, I left Bermuda with a new crew and a new forestay. It was a relief to be moving, a necessary change to the tedious round of asking after parts not delivered and speaking politely to tardy mechanics. We motored out with the sunset behind us, and once we could leave North Rock well to port, turned north under full sails. Whitney, my wife, is a good sailor. She loves nothing better than snorkeling among tropical fish, and she had pointed to Bermuda’s oversize footprint on the big chart and said, “Imagine all those miles of reef, all those fish. What a paradise.” Now she was eager to see dolphins, whales and sharks. On that same plotting chart, I penciled quick circles around the marine sanctuaries, preserves and monuments in our path to Newport, Rhode Island. These were the places she was most likely to encounter the sea life that inspired her sailing. One of the newest MPAs is the Northeast Canyons and Seamounts Marine National Monument, 120 miles southeast of Cape Cod. We hadn’t planned to go near it on this leg, but on day three, the Gulf Stream hit us with 25 knots of breeze from the southwest and then a series of westerly squalls that soaked our plans in flying spray. Ten hard hours saw us 60 miles east of our line and barely a daysail from the new monument. Unlike, say, Devil’s Tower or Gettysburg, sea canyons are not something you can spot from a distance or tour in a bus. But a healthy ocean has its language too, and in the morning, Whitney spotted a spout to starboard, and then another. Before long, she had the rhythm and guided us to the long forms of North Atlantic fin whales feeding in the middle distance.