A Detour Before the Long Way Around
MAY 2025 • BAHAMAS TO NEWPORT • SWAN 56 ‘SAIL FLY’
A last-minute offshore delivery through the Bahamas became the perfect warm-up for a summer of Great Lakes racing—and a reminder that every mile matters on the road back to the Golden Globe.
In mid-May, I was settling into what felt like a sensible, well-laid plan. I was preparing to head north to Michigan to join my 2022 Golden Globe Race manager, Birch Olinger, and help organize his newly purchased Corsair 28R for the Port Huron to Mackinac Race. The idea was to arrive in Frankfort, Michigan, during the first week of June, spend six weeks going stem to stern through the boat, and then sail her across Lake Michigan and down to Port Huron ahead of the start.
It was practical, organized—and entirely subject to change.
That change came in the form of a phone call from my sailing friend Charlie Parker. Charlie was short one crew member for an offshore delivery aboard his Swan 56, Sail Fly, and asked if I could join them for the passage from Georgetown, Exumas, to Newport, Rhode Island.
I told him yes—but with conditions. I already had a non-refundable flight booked from Key West to Frankfort, and if I was going to make a detour to the Bahamas, Charlie would need to cover my travel to Georgetown and then from Newport back to Michigan. He didn’t hesitate. The deal was done, and just like that, my freshwater plans took a saltwater turn.
I arrived in Georgetown around May 26th, give or take a day. The Exumas were in full late-May form—warm air, clear water, boats swinging quietly at anchor. After two days of preparation—checking systems, stowing gear, sorting provisions—we slipped the mooring and pointed Sail Fly north.
The crew was small and capable: Charlie, me, and professional sailor Colin Marshall. The Swan settled into her stride almost immediately, that steady, reassuring motion you only get from a heavy, well-designed offshore boat. Days fell into the familiar rhythm of watches, meals, and sail trim. Nights were dark and quiet, broken by the glow of instruments and the sound of water rushing past the hull.
As offshore deliveries go, it was about as kind as you could ask for. We had a minor issue with the boom and quickly realized our provisioning plan could have used more thought. Otherwise, the boat kept moving. No drama. No heroics. Just miles ticking off—precisely the kind of sailing that sharpens instincts and rewards patience.
After five or six days at sea, Block Island appeared out of the mist. We spent one night there, legs back on land and bodies remembering gravity, before making the short hop to Newport.
I stayed in Newport for a single night—long enough for a hot shower, a decent meal, and a bed that didn’t move—before catching a flight west to Michigan. Birch was waiting, tools at the ready, and the next phase of the summer was already underway.
From a Golden Globe perspective, the timing couldn’t have been better. Offshore miles—any offshore miles—matter. Whether it’s a transoceanic solo race or a crewed delivery up the U.S. East Coast, the fundamentals are the same: sail handling, watch discipline, decision-making, and living aboard day after day. This passage wasn’t part of the original plan, but it was a valuable reminder that preparation for the long way around doesn’t always look like training—it often looks like saying ‘yes’ when the ocean calls.
Michigan—and the Mackinac—could wait a few more days. The bigger campaign was still moving forward.
