I rose before the first hint of twilight this morning, made a cup of strong coffee and climbed into the cockpit. The dozens of anchor lights, rocking with the erratic rhythm of an unwelcome swell, represented a constellation of cruising boats. From tidy production boats, to utilitarian aluminum cutters, to well seasoned ocean crossers like Quetzal, Prickly Bay is a refuge for those of us who live aboard and ply the oceans as a matter of course.
We have many friends in the anchorage, and they have all made their way here from far away – Australia, Brazil, France, Canada, the US. As part of the subtitle and throughout my book, Sailing to the Edge of Time, I mention the promise of ocean Voyaging. Waiting for the light of day, and the reassurances that come with it in these trying times, I realized, not for the first time, that its the promise of mornings like this that keep me committed to a life afloat.