Falling in love with the sea.
If you’ve followed my adventures even a little bit, you’re aware that my relationship with sailing has had its highs and lows, and in-betweens. The lust I’ve felt for the water has been intertwined with the (sometimes) vile hatred of its swells and whitecaps. During our 5-month courtship, we’ve fought, we’ve made up, we’ve said and done things we didn’t mean, and we’ve shared some of the happiest moments in memory. The roller coaster that has been my introduction to the high seas has, quite honesty, resembled a teenage love affair. There was no shortage of drama, no absence of mood swings, and enough material to write dozens of new Taylor Swift songs. (Jean-Marc, “Babybarn”, this one’s for you) As do adolescent romances, so did evolve my relationship with sailing. I am happy to report that, over time, it has matured into functional union. It helps when I am surprised with the ocean’s many presents. Over the course of our sail across the Atlantic, we’ve managed to catch many dorado, wah