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In our travels so far, I can say with confidence we have not discovered a place better suited for cruising than the Pacific Northwest. While I can’t complain about the warm water and cheap tacos of Mexico, I miss the lush cliff sides and tangled kelp beds, the abundance…
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Is it too cliché to start this with a contemplative statement like “I can’t believe we’ve already been cruising for a year” or “This year has really flown by” or maybe “can you believe our boat’s still floating after a whole year”? It’s hard not to because that’s precisely…
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During the passage to Zihuatanejo back in April, our transmission took its last breaths. Once we had sailed onto anchor, recovered from the passage, and had a beer or two, we set off in search of a mechanic that could diagnose and potentially fix this somewhat important piece of…
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This is where school buses go to….live again? I’d never really considered it before, but what a mundane life a school bus in the states must have. They are all dressed exactly the same, a uniform of yellow and caution, driven delicately by careful people, oppressed by speed limit…
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I’m trying to remember the last passage we completed without drama or major issue, but coming up short. I want to tell you stories of beautiful passages, trips that are fast and filled with full sails, happy engines, leaping dolphins and sprightly shooting stars. But we haven’t had any…
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I have been intrigued by this place since Morgan Freeman, pants rolled up and shoes flung casually over his shoulder, strode towards Tim Robbins fixing up his old boat on the beach (if that doesn’t ring a bell, it’s time to re-watch Shawshank Redemption). It’s obvious to me now…
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Puerto Escondido: the “pipeline of Mexico”, the famous surfing spot, the miserable anchorage, the false refuge from broken engines and broken forestays and broken spirits. On our passage to Huatulco, we passed the town 3 times, tormented by its proximity and erroneous sanctuary. Apparently we were determined to set…
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Day Three: The last straw
4:00am John shakes me from a fitful sleep. I peak groggily at my watch. It’s late, John pulled a particularly long shift. He’s been in the cockpit for over 6 hours and it is certainly time for him to rest. I pull myself from bed…
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Day one: Pleasant
They had been forecasting a hurricane. Her name was Adrian and she was currently holding the title of earliest tropical storm ever recorded in this part of the world (since 1966 when they started recording these things, apparently). Every forecast every day had her forming in a…
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(This article appeared in the May edition of 48 North)
When I turned 16, I threw a day-long party in the backyard. No gifts, no games, no structure – just burgers and cake and a pile of people I cared about from all areas of my life. Friends I’d had…
John is the photographer. He portrays the layers of history, emotion, spirit and culture in each moment through his application of light, perspective, and detail. He also takes pictures.
Becca is the writer. She tells vivid stories of authentic moments, highlighting the beautiful, dangerous, dramatic and hilarious with grammatically correct sentences and her tongue held firmly by her cheek.