Spent the night in lower Biscayne Bay, ghosting, sometimes paddling, slowly southward, through a sea of Portugese Men o' War, dolphins quietly exhaling, and oodles of shooting stars. The race started to Angelfish cut, the exit to the Ocean. Then a 50 mile run down Key Largo. Most of the fleet has spinnakers, and slowly sails away from Feeny and Farrar. Finished rigging at 50 seconds before the start.
Horn blows and they are off, with collisions and capsizes in the first minute.
Ten minutes later they were leading the race. Which would have been great if they had known where to go. The plan was to draft behind this other Tornado, and then jump them in the final 5 miles. They still don't know exactly where, on the far side of the bay the finish line is. Finding it is complicated by the fact that they have set the course record for day 2, so no one is expecting them and, rather that a crowd of cheering spectators, they are greeted by one man with a pencil and a watch desperately scribbling down finish times.