Today we covered quite a few miles under the spinnaker. With the wind moderate, we surfed down increasingly impressive waves—like riding a bike downhill with no brakes.

Knowing the night would likely bring squalls again, and not keen on setting up our remaining pole in the dark, we decided to take Big Red down before the last light faded.

And then I messed up. Not a total disaster, but let’s call it a solid, confidence-denting error.

After I released one side of the spinnaker, Mark began pulling the sock down over it. Assuming we were following the same routine as the day before, I moved to the mast and confidently released the halyard to bring the sail down. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mark sitting, and assumed he was guiding the sail down.

He wasn’t.

He was still busy stuffing the sail into the sock—and hadn’t noticed I’d already dropped it.

What followed was a sudden gust, and the entire sail, still in its sock, went straight into the water—attached to the halyard on one end and the boat on the other.

I rushed to take the engines out of gear before we upgraded from “awkward situation” to “expensive story.” It looked like the sail had gone under one hull, maybe even beneath one of the mini keels. We disengaged the autopilot and turned the boat side-on to the waves, hoping to let the sail drift clear.

Thankfully, it was only dragged across the front and eventually floated off to the side, allowing us to haul it back on board—with considerable effort.

It’s now sprawled across the trampoline, salty, soggy, and probably judging me – waiting for a good rain to wash it.

I feel a bit battered—mostly in pride. Assumptions are the quiet assassins of good teamwork, and I fell right into that trap. We talked it through over dinner; hopefully, at least the boys got a lesson out of it.

The good news: the sail seems undamaged. Being in the sock probably saved it—just wet, not ruined.

And yes, I know—it’s far from the first spinnaker to take a swim. Still… such a silly mistake.

After that, we carried on under Code 0, then switched to the genoa, and treated ourselves to chocolate pudding with raspberry sauce to lift morale.

We’re still a few days out, but seeing the distance drop below 500 nautical miles finally makes it feel like we’re getting close.