I had this to say on the subject after a wearisome beat along the south coast of Puerto Rico:
“By the time we reached Culebra, off the east coast of Puerto Rico, I was ready to give it all up and go sheep farming in the Great Karoo. Life had become one long, head-banging, salt encrusted bash into the teeth of a perpetual gale, off a rocky lee-shore, at night”.
“We had made our way from Boquerón in a series of night time hops taking in Guánica, Ponce, Salinas, Puerto Patillas and Isla Pineros. The wind was on the nose all the way and we often took two, three or more attempts at departure only to be driven back by the steep chop. We would “go for it” on an imagined lull and then endure a night of hell to reach the next harbour, an hour or two’s car ride along the coast. Such are the joys of sailing to weather, that thing which, very sensibly, gentlemen don’t do”.
So, it isn’t all rosy on the thorny path to windward. But, as my favourite philosopher, Anonymous, once said: What is hard to endure is sweet to recall.