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We were in Bora Bora, French Polynesia, motoring inside the reef, when I noticed the turquoise water reflected on the underside of a nearby cloud. I grabbed my camera to record the phenomena. No matter how I fussed with my camera’s settings, I couldn’t capture what I was seeing. Then I realized I was seeing this through my polarized sunglasses. I lifted them up and it disappeared. I decided right then to buy a polarizing filter (commonly called a polarizer) for my camera lens. It’s one of the best photography decisions I’ve made.

When sunlight hits water, foliage, glass, and other nonmetallic reflective surfaces, the scattered, reflected light makes colors appear desaturated, the water and glass flat, and scenes comparatively hazy or washed out. This effect is more pronounced when the sun is at specific angles. A polarizer restricts the light that reaches a camera lens to that which is perpendicular to reflected light. The effect is the same as with a pair of polarized sunglasses: darker sky (making clouds appear sharper and more distinct), richer colors, and water and glass rendered transparent. In short, outdoor photos taken with a polarizer are often crisper, more vibrant and more dramatic than those without.

We’re cruising through landscapes I might never visit again. I enjoy preserving these memories with a camera, but I’m just an amateur. Capturing them as beautifully as I’m seeing them is so easy with a polarizer, it feels like cheating. Ready to see a marked improvement in your own outdoor photos? Following are some tips for selecting and using a polarizing filter.

• Like most filters and add-ons, polarizers are intended for cameras with removable lenses. Most point-and-shoot cameras and smartphone cameras are not compatible with external filters.
• There are two types of polarizing filters: linear and circular. Nearly all ­autofocus/auto-exposure cameras require circular polarizers.
• Camera-lens threads are standard, even on Nikons and Canons, so you need pay attention to only the diameter of your lens and buy the same-diameter filter (such as 52mm, 58mm, and 77mm).
• You get what you pay for. Inexpensive polarizers are built with aluminum rings, and these can bind with the threads of the lens. Also, better polarizers are multicoated, which prevents ghosting, lessens lens flare, and preserves contrast.
• Standard polarizing filters can introduce a slight blue hue to photos. Nautical photographer Billy Black (who has shot countless covers and spreads for Cruising World) says he prefers the warming type of polarizing filter because it removes a bit of the blue-green tones from images, giving his photos a more pleasant color balance.
• Reflections are not inherently bad. A circular polarizer allows you to select the amount of polarized light you wish to ­filter out, from none to all.
• Like polarized sunglasses, a polarizing filter reduces the amount of light that reaches your lens. In most cases, a camera will adjust the exposure to compensate. In other cases, the reduced light is not desirable.
• Once you begin using a polarizer, you’ll be surprised by the reflections you didn’t realize were there until they are gone. Even car tires are muted by reflected light and utterly changed when viewed through a polarizing filter.
• While post-processing software can do amazing things to a digital image, none can reproduce the effect of a ­polarizing filter.

Check out more tips on cruising photography here.

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In 1851, the schooner America of New York Yacht Club sailed against 15 yachts of the Royal Yacht Squadron in the club’s annual regatta around the Isle of Wight. America finished 8 minutes ahead of the closest rival, securing victory, and beginning what would become one of the longest running competition in sports. in 1857, the Deed of Gift officially donated the America’s Cup to New York Yacht Club ensuring that it be held as a perpetual challenge trophy to promote friendly competition among nations.

In 1871, the first official challenge to the America’s Cup came from James Lloyd Ashbury, who had previously beaten the schooner America and was emboldened by his victory. The New York Yacht Club accepted, and the schooner Columbia was chosen to defend, successfully taking the first two races before dismasting. The yacht Sappho was chosen as a replacement and continued to hold off the British challenge in the third and fourth races.

A new rule governing the design of America’s Cup yachts was drafted in 1885 after a series of Canadian challenges. Irish designer John Webb sent two yachts New York in 1885 and again in 1886 but neither could best the American designs. The final challenge under the New York Yacht Club Rule came in 1887, when Volunteer defended the Cup against the Scottish designed Thistle.

In 1889, the New York Yacht Club adopted the Seawanhaka Rating Rule. Over the next several years, Herreshoff designed boats would reign supreme, with Nathanael himself helming Vigilant to victory in 1893. In 1899, Sir James Lipton of Scotland posed the first of a series, racing Shamrock (right) against the already proven Columbia. Columbia, helmed by Charlie Barr, sailed to victory over Lipton, becoming the first yacht to defend the Cup more than once.

As Cup selection trials were underway for the 1914 challenge, war broke out and the Cup was cancelled, putting the first test of the newly implemented Universal Rule on hold. In 1920, the challenge resumed, with Lipton once again attempting to dethrone the Americans, this time with Shamrock IV. Lipton came the closest anyone had thus far in the event’s history to winning back the cup, winning the first two races, but the Herreshoff designed Resolute staged a comeback and went on to defend the cup for the Americans yet again.

Lipton’s final America’s Cup challenge would come in 1929 in the J-Class. Shamrock V was heavy and outdated compared to Enterprise, which had little trouble in defeating the challenge. In 1934, having purchased Shamrock with the intent of challenging the cup, Sir Thomas Sopwith constructed Endeavor, and subsequently Endeavor II (right) for the challenge, but it was no match for Ranger (left).

Following the second World War, the 12 Meter rule aimed to reduce the costs and ensure racing could continue in a post-war economy. The first unsuccessful challenge came in 1958, 20 years since the previous attempt by Endeavor II in the J-Class, with Columbia defeating the British challenger Sceptre. Over the next 20 years, the US would defend 7 more challenges, including the first Australian entry in 1962. Intrepid (pictured) would become just the second yacht in history to successfully defend the Cup twice, first in 1967, and again in 1970.

1983 would prove to be a historic and game-changing year for the history of the America’s Cup. Alan Bond, who had made three attempts already at bringing the cup to Australia, returned for a fourth attempt. The design of Australia II‘s (right) keel was kept secret, and in the end, the infamous winged design would prove effective. Australia II overtook Liberty, despite initial problems, and went on to upend the longest winning streak in the history of sports – 132 years.

The first Cup defended outside of the United States was held in Fremantle Australia in 1987. From an unexpected field of 13 challengers, American Dennis Conner won the right to challenge the Australians through victory in the Louis Vuitton Cup. Conner easily sailed Stars & Stripes 87 to victory, beating Kookaburra III four races to zero, winning the cup back for the Americans.

In 1988, an unexpected challenge came from a New Zealand syndicate, which proved to bring about major design changes and controversy never before seen in the America’s Cup. Conner, representing San Diego Yacht Club commissioned a catamaran to respond to the Kiwi challenge, realizing that multihulls were not expressly prohibited by the Deed of Gift. New Zealand’s “Big Boat” design, while cutting edge was inherently disadvantaged against Conner’s catamaran and lost by a significant margin.

After the race, controversy over the legality of the design in the Deed of Gift, and whether or not the spirit of “friendly competition” had been violated was rampant. Challenger Michael Fay took San Diego Yacht Club to court over the matter and was awarded the trophy in the ruling. The decision, however, was overruled and the cup was returned to the Americans.

After the controversial 1988 Cup, a new design rule was put in place, and the International America’s Cup Class was born. From 1992 to 2007, the Cup changed hands regularly, with strong teams fielded by Italy, New Zealand and Australia. In the 1995 Cup in San Diego (pictured), New Zealand, skippered by Russel Coutts, scored their first victory, defeating Dennis Conner 5-0.

2010 brought more significant design changes to the cup, with BMW Oracle Racing challenging Alinghi in a battle of massive multihulls. BMW Oracle chose a trimaran with a rigid wing sail, similar to the sail used by Conner in the 1988 cup, while Alinghi chose traditional sails for their catamaran. The rigid wing proved to give BMW a significant advantage, and the Cup once again returned to the US.

The 34th America’s Cup in 2013 brought about more changes to the America’s Cup class, with the defender, Oracle Team USA opting for the use of 72 foot catamarans for the racing on San Francisco Bay. The catamarans proved again to be a point of controversy over costs limiting the ability of teams to pose challenges, and the risk associated with the new, faster and more dangerous boats. Twice during training, major accidents occurred, and new safety regulations were put in place to ensure the safety of athletes.

Emirates Team New Zealand won the right to challenge Oracle in the finals, after defeating Artemis Racing and Luna Rossa in the Louis Vuitton Cup. In the final, New Zealand started strong, taking a commanding 8-1 lead, but the constant changes to crew and modifications to the boat allowed Oracle Team USA to fine tune their performance and turn the tide in their favor. In an epic comeback, Oracle overturned their 7 win deficit to beat Emirates Team New Zealand and secure the cup for America one again.

For the 35th America’s Cup in Bermuda, teams agreed to cut costs and improve safety and accessibility by reducing the size of the boats to just 50 feet. Training vessels were allowed, and the AC45F, a smaller, lighter foiling catamaran was selected as the platform for the America’s Cup World Series during 2016-2017. Teams have now launched their final race boats and training has begun for the start of the qualifier series.

In July, 5 teams will meet in Bermuda to battle for the right to challenge Oracle Team USA and determine the fate of the cup until the next challenge.

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It was twenty years ago today. St. Pepper may have been busy somewhere teaching musicians, but Windy and I were nowhere near that scene. Earlier that December we’d cast off the dock lines in Ventura, California, and turned left. It was just the two of us—both in our 20s—aboard my little Newport 27, that was also named Del Viento. We barely knew each other, but before our 8-month voyage from Southern California to Southern Florida was over, I knew I wanted to marry her.

Last week, as we prepared for bed in this little house in Ajo—the one we’re camping in because, as of now, it has no appliances, no heat, no hot water, few doors, non-functional windows that are spray-painted over, and a broken cement swan fountain in the front yard—I thought to ask Windy what she’d have done on that crisp Friday morning 20 years ago if she could have seen the future.

“Not how the future played out from then to now, just a snapshot of this moment. You’d get to see the mattress on the floor we sleep on, this truck we’re driving that was already 8 years old way back then, and the gaping holes in the ceilings and walls.”

“I’d have run like hell.”

“Yeah, me too.”

More Photos:

In our twenties, we traded our boat for a house and our freedom for careers. In our thirties, we lived the American dream. In our forties, we woke and traded our house for a boat and our careers for freedom. And here we are. Follow along with the Roberston’s onboard Del Viento on their blog at www.logofdelviento.blogspot.com.

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Santos Bay Brazil

These stunning sunsets were chosen by our readers as the top 10 finalists to our Sailing Sunsets Photo Contest in 2015. Want to see more of the best sunsets from other readers around the world? Click here to view even more entries.

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I use my iPhone 6 Plus for much more than making calls, texting, emailing and tracking the latest social media trends. As a sailor, I use my iPhone 6 Plus to navigate, check destinations and weather, plan routes, book slips or moorings, and even to make dinner reservations prior to arriving in port. As a professional photographer, I have also been using my iPhone 6 Plus not only to supplement my expensive, large and heavy equipment, but in many instances to replace a full-sensor DSLR as my camera of choice. Here are some features and tricks that have helped me get the most out of my smartphone’s camera.

Instant Photos

In many cases, you need to act quickly to get the shot — there’s no time to put in lock codes or fingerprint scans. To access the iPhone camera instantly, without having to unlock the phone, just swipe left on your home screen, and you have the full camera application ready to use. Android phones use a quick app-launching tool that accomplishes the same immediate camera activation.

Flash Options: Auto, On, Off

In the camera app of an iPhone, at the top left you will see a lightning-­shaped icon. Tap it to bring up the flash submenu choices: auto, on and off. I recommend that you leave the flash set to auto. In this setting, the flash will activate when the software determines the need for additional light, which, for a sailor, may not be often. Most sailing images are shot in bright, seemingly overpowering light, so why use the flash at all? Here are some reasons: Photos taken in the cabin at sunrise or sunset, or portraits taken with the sun or lighting behind the subject, could need flash “fill.” Or with the subject looking directly into the sun, you might need the flash to avoid what is known as “raccoon eyes.” Keeping the flash on or set to auto can eliminate deep, often unattractive shadows.

High Dynamic Range (HDR) Options: Auto, On, Off

HDR stands for “high dynamic range,” a tool that exposes a series of images with each image exposed differently. In short, the exposures run from darkest to lightest. HDR provides greater detail, a more realistic image, and a better-defined separation between shadows, midtones and highlights. For best results, use HDR when photographing landscapes or seascapes. Don’t use HDR under very bright sun, if you are sailing fast, or if you need a series of quick, successive images. Also note that the flash is automatically turned off when using HDR.

Selfie View

Tapping the camera icon with the circular arrows will switch the lens view from forward-looking toward the screen of the smartphone, facing whoever or whatever is holding the phone. In other words, it will turn your camera into a selfie-maker. But beware: Most “accidental” photos are taken when the operator mistakenly thinks the camera is pointed outward.

Self-Timer

Need to take a selfie but don’t have a selfie stick, or want to capture a perfect group shot? No problem. Touch the circular, clocklike icon and select either a three- or 10-second delay. Set the device on a surface that will hold it in place (not near the toerail), compose the image, and press the shutter. You will see the flash count down each second and, just prior to exposing the flash, rapidly click on and off until the shutter clicks — done!

Additional Functions

Smartphones and tablets offer a variety of functions that allow you to expand the use of your camera. The iPhone lists several along the bottom of the screen within the camera app: time-lapse, slo-mo, video, photo, square and pano. Tablets may not include all these functions. On some Android models, you will find these options located within your photography submenu.

Time-Lapse: With this option, the frame rate consists of a series of single pictures shot at a speed that’s slower than normal video. When the video is played back, time seems to be moving faster, or lapsing. Use time-lapse to shorten a long sequence or capture an event such as docking a sailboat.

Slo-Mo: This tool essentially slows down the motion of the subject. When I teach sailing, I use slow motion to visually explain wrapping a winch, tacking or jibing, or other complex functions where errors can be seen more clearly when the view is slowed down.

Video: Lights, camera, action! You use video to document your best and worst sailing experiences: dolphins swimming along the bow, whales breaching, or crewmembers swimming, sailing or enjoying a destination.

Photo: This is the standard of photography. The 4-to-3 aspect ratio allows photos taken in this mode to be copied, edited, posted and emailed. Square: The square mode works the same way as the photo mode except that the aspect ratio (normally 4-to-3) and shape of the image are no longer rectangular, but square (1-to-1).

Pano: The panoramic function is a bit tricky to use on a moving boat or dock, as it requires you to rotate the phone while holding it level. In this mode, the camera takes a series of sequential images that are stitched together via a software function. Once saved, a panoramic photo can be shared the same way as any other image. This image size works great for landscapes, photographing your boat while on a dock or mooring, or for nearly any other “long” item or subject. When taking the photo, you need to be aware of your tracking speed, the movement to the left or right, and the movement of the camera up or down — all tough on a moving sailboat.

Focus, Exposure, Zoom and More

Most smartphones have an auto-focus/auto-exposure (AF/AE) lock. Just touch the screen with your finger (for about three seconds) on the area where you wish to focus, and you will see the AF/AE icon, which means you are now fixed on the area you touched. You can remove the AF/AE by quickly tapping the screen.

When you activate your camera, you will note that a yellow or blue square appears on the screen. Next to the square, you will see a sun-shaped icon and a vertical line. Dragging the sun icon up or down along the line will change the overall exposure.

Along the bottom of the camera frame, you have the ability to zoom in or out when using most of the camera options. Pinch the screen outward to zoom in; pinch the screen inward to zoom out. Or, on the screen, use your index finger to drag the zoom circle along the zoom line. On an Android phone, the volume controls can activate the zoom function.

Editing

OK, you have the shot and have placed it in the camera’s memory, but it needs a bit of work. No problem. Most smartphones have a wide range of retouching tools. Go to your gallery (the Photos app on an iPhone), select an image, and tap the icon that looks like three horizontal lines with dots on them (on Android platforms, tap the editing icon). Along the very bottom of the frame, you will see three icons. The first (arrows and a frame) allows you to scale, crop or adjust the angle of any image. The next icon (three circles) allows you to select filters including monochrome, noir, fade, black-and-white and others. If you don’t like the change, just touch “revert,” and you are back at the starting point. The last option (a circle with a dial and dots) provides you with editing capability, enabling you to change the overall lighting, modify the color, remove the color, and convert the image to gray-scale. The last function has submenus that provide advanced editing tools and more sophisticated editing functions.

Posting and Sharing

Select your video or still image from your gallery, click on the rectangle with the upward-­facing arrow (a sideways V on Android phones), select the type of media you plan to share with, and off you go.

One last note: You can send your photo or video as a small, medium, large or actual-size image. The size of the image will determine how much time the transfer will take, so be advised that you may need a Wi-Fi connection, rather than a 3G or 4G cellular network, to send large files. Most smartphones and tablets allow you to choose the size of the image you plan to email or post. My iPhone offers the following file size choices (sizes will vary depending on the phone model you have): small (39.5 KB), medium (102 KB), large (455 KB) and actual size (1.2 MB). The small option will upload faster than the actual-­size option, but smaller files will not reproduce as well as larger files for printing hard copies of a photo.

Smartphone-Use Warnings

Sailors live in the wet, and for your phone, this is not a good environment. Prior to sailing, you should consider one of the many waterproof cases available today. Most smartphones, tablets and other mobile devices will easily overheat when left in direct sun. Once overheated, the device will shut down, and you will need to allow the device to cool before you can turn it back on.

Summary

Today, the latest smartphones are more like cameras than ever before. You can purchase hand-held grips, monopods, full tripods, selfie sticks, external lenses, underwater cases and much more. You can download hundreds of apps that can magically convert your basic images into sepia-toned or black-and-white, add effects, smooth imperfections, and even publish photo books over the Internet. So before you head out on your next sailing adventure, try practicing with your smartphone’s photo features. You just might be surprised at the high-quality images you can produce.

Thaddeus Kubis is an editorial, documentary and fine art photographer and instructor. He is also a U.S. Coast Guard-licensed captain and an ASA-certified sailing instructor.

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As my husband, Charter Weeks, and I fasten our seat belts in preparation for landing, our pilot announces that we are approximately 125 miles from Boston’s Logan Airport and will be at the gate in about 25 minutes. That 125 miles, it strikes me, represents the ­distance we traversed in any 24-hour period as we negotiated the Atlantic on an eight-day voyage from Tortola, in the British Virgin Islands, to Bermuda on the brigantine Eye of the Wind.

We are returning from an ocean ­adventure that offered us an extraordinary gift, one I can’t imagine we could have experienced any other way, particularly in this new century with its insistent demands.

This trip gave us the gift of time. Days and nights were carved into arbitrary segments according to watches. For long, gentle hours, time passed as slowly as drifting clouds. Then, almost without warning, if the clouds massed and darkened and scudded, time accelerated, and we had to be quick to respond to the immediate demands of wind and sails. Those patterns repeated. With reference only to wind, water and sky, notions of time — time away, time on our hands, time past and timelessness — took on new meaning. We were suspended in the elements, cut off from all the cues we had come to rely on, dependent on and tuned in to elemental forces. And happy.

Charter and I had flown from ­Boston to St. Thomas, in the U.S. Virgin Islands, and taken the ferry to Road Town, Tortola. There we met Nathan, Charter’s best friend from high school, and his wife, Linda, at a small restaurant near the ferry dock. Over dinner we talked about what had prompted this trip. Nate’s great-great-uncle Benjamin Briggs had captained the brigantine Mary Celeste, which on Dec. 4, 1872, was found underway, with tattered sails, hundreds of miles off the Azores. Missing were Briggs, his wife, his daughter, and a crew of seven. The ship, intact but for a missing logbook, sextant and lifeboat, showed no signs of damage or struggle. The contents of the hold were untouched; the cabins and galley and deck shipshape. The riddle of the mystery ship has never been solved, and Nate has had a lifelong fascination with the details of his relatives’ fate.

Enamored of such sailing vessels, he had been following Eye of the Wind‘s schedule on its website, waiting for an opportune time to book passage on the ship, as it would be as close as he would come to experiencing his ­ancestors’ days aboard Mary Celeste. He discovered that Eye of the Wind, which had spent the winter in the Caribbean ­offering weeklong excursions around the islands, would be sailing back to its home port in Jersey, off the coast of France, via the Azores, with a stop in Bermuda, and that it was taking paying passengers. He and Linda signed up and invited us to do the same.

So here we are in Tortola, under a waxing moon with the other guests, about to climb into the dinghy that will deliver us in shifts to Eye of the Wind. Once aboard, we stow our gear in our small cabins and meet in the galley for introductions. There are 11 passengers — 10 adults and an 11-year-old boy — and 10 crewmembers, hailing from Switzerland, Germany, Denmark, Sweden and Spain. We will spend the next 10 days together. Eating and sleeping. Working and reading. Conversing and staring silently out at the endless sea and night sky. We raise glasses of champagne in a toast (after we clean up the remains of several shattered flutes tossed to the deck by a sudden swell). Then our chef, Marina, and her brother, Sergio, serve us dinner. We sleep in a rolling anchorage. The wind in the rigging resonates in the steel hull like a bass violin.

Sunday morning, Capt. Cornel gathers us on deck. We’re anchored off Jost Van Dyke, after having refueled and topped off the water tanks. We’ll all have a last day and night to swim, snorkel, drop by a beach pub, eat without concern for the placement of our plates, shower without bracing ourselves against the bulkheads, and sleep without rolling into one another. But first, the orientation.

“This is your captain speaking,” he announces with a smile. It’s 1000. We will become used to meeting at this time every morning for class. Today Cornel instructs us, with a mixture of humor and seriousness, in the rudiments of living on a tall ship. The ­importance of conserving water. How to move about. Where to put our hands and feet. How and when to assist the crew — or stay out of their way.

He reviews the various parts of the boat, gives us a primer on its myriad sails and lines, and talks about our course and projected progress. Some of us are seasoned sailors who have made ocean passages. Some have sailed a bit, but not offshore. Some have never set foot on a sailing ship until this day. We are strangers united, at least for the next 10 days, in a common endeavor, and we’ll all take our chosen parts.

Cornel tells us that once we’re underway, there will be four-hour watches each manned by three or four crew plus willing passengers. He invites any ­interested guests to volunteer. Several of us do.

When the first mate, Britta, begins her safety lecture, I am prepared to half-listen as if to a bored flight attendant. What follows, however, is a catalog of what incidents could occur and what to do should they befall the ship and its passengers. The safety lecture begins with Britta pointing out the woven “man-catchers” stretched amidships between stays, port and starboard. She cautions us to always keep a hand on rail or rope. She asks that we inform crewmembers on watch if we come on deck at night, and that we tell them when we go below.

And then she gets to the meat of it: Injuries and illness will receive the best first aid the crew can offer, but there are no doctors on board. A man overboard will occasion a very specific series of reactions and responses (but they are unlikely to be successful at night). Fire is disastrous on a boat, and will be met with everything from ordinary extinguishers to the fire-trained crew combating the blaze wearing fireproof gear and gas masks. Not only are we shown the location of the life vests, but we are asked to don them for practice. Britta describes how to climb into a survival suit, and a fellow passenger demonstrates. She points out the life rafts hanging from davits and details how to board them — and failing that, how to hook onto one another as we bob in the ocean waiting for rescue. It is a sobering exercise.

The huge anchor is raised to signal bells and clanking of chain. Magnificent frigate birds wheel overhead. The wind is picking up, and the crew is busy with lines. Jibs and staysails snap out. Topsails unfurl. We are underway. In a few hours the islands will be pale smudges on the ­horizon. Soon land will disappear, and with it our connections to cellphones and laptops. We’ve begun our 830-mile voyage to Bermuda.

Originally christened Friedrich, the steel-hull ship was built as a trading schooner in 1911. In 1923, renamed Merry, she transported goods in the Baltic and North seas and was used as a fishing vessel off Iceland in the summers. By 1969, stripped of her masts and sailing under power, she suffered a devastating fire and was about to be scrapped when a group of Australians, looking for a boat to restore as a square rigger, bought Merry and went to work clearing the fire debris, scraping and painting the hull, installing a new steering system, overhauling the engine, and tackling the interior.

As I wander from galley to saloon to our cabin, I note the provenance of the furnishings as detailed in various books and websites: a teak floor from a dance hall; church pews for galley seating; deep brown paneling from a bank; and scores of items — doors, windows, all manner of fittings — gleaned from old ships and marine suppliers. The boat’s ballast was initially comprised of used paving stones, concrete railway sleepers and gravel. The masts, two 20-inch-diameter steel oil-well casings, were wrestled into place by sheer manpower.

Granted, where there would have been barrels and crates filled with trade goods, there are now six en suite guest cabins, air-conditioned several hours a day and fitted out with comfortable bunks, a closet, a bookshelf and a small bench. Where there would have been narrow berths for the crew, there are now tidy bunks and a head. The saloon would not have been a cozy retreat offering a library of paperbacks and DVDs. And while Capt. Briggs and his wife and daughter enjoyed the comfort of a wood stove and the pastimes of sewing and singing to the accompaniment of a melodeon aboard Mary Celeste, on Eye of the Wind, Cornel and Britta share the small living space aft with chart tables and navigational instruments. Still, we are settling into the past.

The daily briefing begins with Cornel spreading the chart atop the cabin house to show us how far we’ve come in 24 hours — usually about 125 miles at just under 6 knots. He follows that with a short discourse on one or another ­aspect of the workings of the ship, and the myriad choices and decisions he makes as he chooses course, decides which sails to deploy, responds to a sudden squall, or resorts to the engine to keep us on schedule for Bermuda. Cornel is clearly in charge of every aspect of this voyage, in easy command of the ship, its guests and crew.

As the crew go about their daily routines — two-hour repair and maintenance shifts to keep the “Old Lady” shipshape — I am struck by their willingness to include us. The more we ­volunteer to participate, the more we’re taught, until they can count on us to help. The halyards, sheets and downhauls, neatly hung on wooden belaying pins lined along the rails, must be re-coiled every time we set a sail or adjust a yard. We take turns at the helm and are allowed to make mistakes as we work to get the hang of steering a course. Some of us even strap on harnesses and safety clips to follow crewmember Astrid up the ratlines, high into the rigging, as she and Christoph furl the topgallant or inspect lines.

The only day exempt from the usual obligations is Sunday, designated for what used to be called “Make and Mend,” when sailors found respite from chores and turned their attention to personal projects. On our Sunday at sea, Astrid, for one, finishes work on the ditty bag that she has expertly sewn from canvas and braided line.

One morning, Rasmus hands out short lengths of rope to the guests so we can practice the knots he patiently demonstrates: bowline, clove hitch, sheepshank (for some reason, I particularly like this knot that makes a long line shorter), rolling hitch. We are occupied for most of the rest of the morning tying and untying. Ole gives our friend Nate a private tutorial on how to make a Turk’s head.

On another morning, Cornel invites Nate to explain the principles of celestial navigation. In the spirit of the voyage of Mary Celeste, Nate has brought his own sextant aboard. He takes readings at noon and sunset every day. Though already trained in celestial navigation, Rasmus and Christoph devote precious off-hours with Nate to honing their skills for calculating our position by this means. Others of us struggle to grasp even the rudiments of this arcane and beautiful science, which weaves a knowledge of the stars and planets, longitude and latitude, angles and magnetic forces, winds and currents into an elegant map of a vast ocean, upon which a very small vessel is making its way from shore to shore.

Chief engineer Andreas explains the workings of the engine, generator and reverse-osmosis watermaker, which he and Lars, the machinist, are constantly tinkering with. Today they are completely remaking a recalcitrant pump. Even with some 21st-century technology, the spirit of maintenance and ­improvisation is decidedly 19th-century — and very necessary.

We guests must improvise as well. We pool what resources are on board with what we have brought to effect a cure for our young passenger’s relentless bout of seasickness. We create relief by way of pills, arnica salve and ice packs for the back sprain I sustain in a spectacular fall on deck the one time I go barefoot. We concoct remedies of broth and ginger tea for several mild stomach upsets.

From the galley come strains of the music Marina has chosen to enliven her lunch prep. Sergio peels potatoes. Ole dries the breakfast dishes before he goes below to sleep. One of us guests mops tables and sweeps up crumbs while a cribbage game is underway in the corner. Our meals are both simple and imaginative. Breakfast is a spread of cold meats and cheeses, fruit, homemade breads, jams (including an Andalusian specialty called membrillo, which Sergio has contributed), juices and cold cereals. Lunch might be a hearty hot dish such as leftover pork tortillas or a grain salad rich with chopped vegetables. The bell rings for tea in the late ­afternoon, when we snack on cookies and some days sorbet. And from her tiny galley, Marina prepares ample dinners of roasted meat, baked fish, creamy risotto and grilled sausage. She dishes out and we pass carefully to each other as the ship rolls and pitches. We eat together — captain, guests and whoever of the crew isn’t sleeping — and share stories and jokes, gradually morphing, as the days go by, into a cheerful, bantering family.

Twice we are gifted with food from the ocean. The first catch, off a filament line trailed off the stern and baited with a flying fish, is a 15-pound dorado, its scales glistening blue and yellow and silver. The second, a white marlin weighing more than 28 pounds, is dispatched — at Nate’s suggestion that it is the quickest, most humane method — by pouring a measure of strong spirits down its gullet and into its gills. Sure enough, the fish expires almost instantly and without struggle. A few of us pool gutting and boning and filleting skills, and ­Marina creates memorable dishes from the catch, sauced and spiced to perfection, with ample fish left over to freeze.

Surprisingly, though, aside from our two fish, the occasional red-footed booby diving into squadrons of flying fish, and some Portuguese man-of-war sailing on the crests of waves, we see very little wildlife.

Our days and nights assume a pattern around watches, meals, and long stretches of time spent simply being in this place, looking and listening. The air is incredibly pure. (Oddly, there is no sea smell this far from land.) The light is extraordinary. There is a deep silence, if silence can be defined by the slosh of water through the scuppers when the boat plows into a swell; by wind in the shrouds and breezes that brush past us on the rail; by the creaks of lines, the luff of jibs, the slap of halyards against masts. It’s a silence that’s devoid of beeps or rings or buzzes, but allows shouts from aloft and laughter below.

Long strands of seaweed from the Sargasso Sea float on water that ­changes color and aspect almost hourly. Small squalls come and go. The sky is empty and monochrome on a gray morning, then crowded with towering clouds all through a bright blue afternoon. We are propelled by a fine wind for days, then slowed to a sluggish pace as we enter the horse latitudes and must resort to the engine.

By the time we have been at sea for almost a week, untethered from our cords and plugs, we have lost all reference to whatever might be occurring on land. And we have stopped caring. Even seeing each new position on the chart, I find distance and land strangely abstract concepts. It’s difficult to imagine anything other than the impossibly deep blue sea that stretches beneath an endless paler-blue sky. Waves form, crest and disappear under the hull; night extinguishes one orange sunset after another, replacing each with a black canvas presided over by an enormous moon, marching from full to wane as we are treated to an increasing vista of stars. We leave a phosphorescent swath in our  wake.

On Sunday night, on Rasmus’ watch, the glow that is Bermuda appears as a pale-yellow brushstroke on the horizon. By noon on Monday, with a crisply uniformed pilot on board and Cornel confident at the helm, we pass through Town Cut and tie up at Ordnance Island in St. George. This pastel and palmy ­island will be the point of entry back into our busy, connected lives. As Cornel and his crew prepare to continue on to the Azores with a new complement of guests, we reacquaint ourselves with the familiar definitions and stricter requirements of land time. It is a melancholy moment.

Marie Harris is a writer, editor and former New Hampshire poet laureate. Her husband, Charter Weeks, is a documentary photographer and filmmaker.

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149 photographers spanning 25 countries participated in the seventh edition of the Mirabaud Yacht Racing Image. Jean-Marie Liot, from France, won the main award, whilst the delegates from the Yacht Racing Forum and World Sailing’s annual conference chose Nico Martinez’s photograph for the Yacht Racing Forum award. Christophe Huchet won the public award, based on the votes on Facebook. The top 80 pictures can be viewed on the website.

Malta, November 29, 2016 – No less than 149 professional photographers spanning twenty-five nations submitted a picture for the Mirabaud Yacht Racing Image 2016 and generated an exceptional selection of images that summarize the yacht racing season better than words.

French photographer Jean-Marie Liot won the main award thanks to an extraordinary picture of Morgan Lagravière training ahead of the Vendée Globe onboard his IMOCA Safran, entirely submerged by a wave at high speed.

“When I took this picture, I immediately knew I would send it to the Mirabaud Yacht Racing Image award ,” says Jean-Marie. “The conditions were perfect and Morgan was pushing hard. I am very happy to win this contest, because it reassembles the best yacht racing photographers and the jury is made of professionals from within the yacht racing industry. It’s a real achievement.”

Based in La Trinité-sur-Mer, in Brittany, Jean-Marie Liot has been working as a professional yacht racing photographer since 1994. His assignments allow him to travel around the world, working for many skippers, sponsors and races and collaborating with the greatest yacht racing magazines.

“I never realised how hard judging a competition like this would be”, said Ian Walker, winner of the Volvo Ocean Race and a member of the Jury. “There are so many wonderful shots, each with their own beautiful story to tell. If ever there was a competition that didn’t deserve to have winners and losers then this was it! It was a privilege to be able to study these wonderful photos from so many talented photographers.”

“The savage beauty of Jean-Marie’s stunning white welter of water was a stand-out choice in an exceptional field of entries. It speaks volumes about personal courage, vast technological growth, sailing skill and performance”, said yachting journalist and writer Keith Taylor. Also a member of the jury, Christian Février said: “Jean-Marie Liot’s picture of a fully immersed racing boat is rare. Despite the help offered by the chopper – stability, angle of the shot, context, situation… – this image is very impressive.”

“Most people don´t think about all the hard work that lays behind each photography. I do. I have so much respect for all the contributors in this years competition. As much as I enjoyed looking at the photographies It was a difficult task to make a judgement but I´m very pleased with the result in the end”, added Anna-Lena Elled, picture editor at Search Magazine.

Nico Martinez won the Yacht Racing Forum award, chosen by the delegates from both World Sailing’s annual conference in Barcelona in November and the Yacht Racing Forum. Christophe Huchet (FRA) won the public award, selected by the number of votes on Internet. No less than 34’680 votes have been taken into account, whilst 1,8 million pages have been viewed on the event’s website.

“We are thrilled with the success of the event”, said Antonio Palma, managing partner of Mirabaud. “Mirabaud has been involved in sailing at the highest level for over a decade, supporting projects who reflect high performance, teamwork and technology. The world’s best yacht racing photographers often try to reflect those values through their images, and it is always a great pleasure to discover their work.”

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The winning image and its photographer will be celebrated at the Yacht Racing Forum in Malta on November 29.

Sailing and photography enthusiasts from around the world are invited to vote for this year’s Mirabaud Yacht Racing Image!

The competition will be tight again this year, with the highest participation rate ever ! No less than 149 professional photographers from 25 different countries entered. Their best 80 shots were preselected by a panel of three international and well recognized yacht racing photographers, and are now available to view and to be voted for, at the event website.

“We are delighted and very proud to once again link the name Mirabaud with the prestigious Mirabaud Yacht Racing Image award”, said Antonio Palma, CEO of Mirabaud & Cie SA. “Mirabaud has been involved in sailing at the highest level for over a decade, supporting projects who reflect high performance, teamwork and technology. Those elements are often reflected in the images submitted by the world’s best yacht racing photographers, and it is always a great pleasure to discover their work.”

The Mirabaud Yacht Racing Image is open to professional photographers from all over the world. The contest aims to pay tribute to the work of these artists, to provide them with a promotional platform and to help promote the sport of sailing to a wider audience.

Three prizes will be awarded on November 29, at the Yacht Racing Forum in Malta:

The main prize is the ‘Mirabaud Yacht Racing Image’, selected by the international jury: Andy Hunt (World Sailing CEO, UK), Keith Taylor (marine writer, editor and marine publicist, NZL), Antonio Palma (CEO, Mirabaud & Cie SA, SUI), Anna-Lena Elled (yachting journalist and picture editor, SWE), and Ian Walker (pro sailor, UK, winner of the Volvo Ocean Race)

The ‘Yacht Racing Forum Award’, decided by the 700 delegates of World Sailing’s Annual conference and the 300 delegates of the Yacht Racing Forum.

The ‘Public Award’ is based on the number of votes on Internet. This is a fun award, aimed at increasing the visibility of both the photographers and the entire contest. Photographers are encouraged to like and share pictures, and to do as much self-promotion as they like. This prizes recognizes the quality of the winning picture as well as the photographers’ network and the support he (she) can generate around him and his (her) photograph.

Mirabaud Yacht Racing Image has a very wide audience, in line with the objectives of the event and those of the Yacht Racing Forum that aims to help broaden the fan base of the sport, welcome newcomers and increase the attraction of sailing as a competitive sport.

International financial services Group Mirabaud is the official title sponsor of the Mirabaud Yacht Racing Image award. By communicating and associating itself with initiatives that convey an image of professionalism, ethics and performance, Mirabaud keeps pace with the development and expansion of its brand, both locally and internationally.

Click here to vote!

Check out some of the entries below!

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