As Merlin closes on the finish line, the adrenalin is flowing. By Chris Museler

It’s Kuli’s ninth Bermuda Race. He’s Russian-American with a thick accent that makes any who grew up during the Cold War think he’s a spy. Right now he’s our spy, and his experience and subtle coaching skills are kicking into high gear.

Here’s the setup—34 miles from Kitchen Shoals, our first major turning mark, and we are surgically controlling our course and trim to avoid pitfalls that are set most years in the Bermuda Race finish.

We are leading the St. David’s Lighthouse fleet on the water, but not corrected time, unfortunately. Thanks to our second park-up yesterday afternoon, which our chasers didn’t fully hit, we have lost all of our corrected time advantages. Llwyd Ecclestone’s Kodiak was the leader of that chasing pack.

Our goal now is to at least capture St. David’s Lighthouse line honors, a fine feather in Merlin’s cap for her first major Atlantic Ocean race.

The opportunities to gain or lose in the closing hours of this race are legendary. And if there is an opportunity for a gain, Kuli, mainsheet trimmer Lin Robson, and helm Keahi Ho will turn it into a potential top class position.

“We’re a much slicker boat through the water, and this breeze is better for our sails,” said Kuli, comparing our performance to Kodiak. “We’re putting a sled against an all-around performing boat.”

Navigator Joe Goulet is starting to charge admission through the companionway, as our anxious crew want to see every inch of the AIS and Expedition. And Chip Merlin has been pouring over the data to calculate in his head a last-chance path to victory.

The most stable of the team is Admiral Bill Merlin. He swallowed a painful loss in the 1956 Bermuda. He’s been there, done that. This morning he woke with smiles. After breakfast, he led the kitchen and icebox cleanup with Kat and James Clappier, tossing old food as our dry ice is gone. We only planned for three days.

Kuli has been orchestrating his plan and positioning his team members aboard; asking the navigator for new information about our position and Kodiak’s bearing and speed; giving the helmsperson updated course windows for steering; and explaining why we’re doing all this at any moment as it relates to Kodiak.

“This guy is praying for us to sail high and keep hot,” Kuli said to the group, staring at the helmsman. “They know the trick. You stay low and you come up.”

In this southwest breeze, boats have been caught high off Kitchen Shoals, having to jibe to meet the way point as boats sail past to leeward who were more disciplined in their steering. Currents add to this pain. “It’s heartbreaking,” said Kuli. “That’s why we have to be anxious.”

The last five miles of beating to St. David’s Head can produce dramatic turnovers, too. “We’ve won this race in the last five miles from someone who beat us to Kitchen Shoals,” said Kuli, “so Kitchen Shoals is not ‘race over.’”