A letter Home

Mom & Dad,

As you read these words you are with me aboard Endymion. She is performing beautifully. I couldn’t ask for more. It may sound foolish, but I think she knows. It is Good Friday. Tony and Kyle are sitting in bean bags on the foredeck consumed in a championship game of chess. Everything here seems to claim the title of “championship” something, but it’s all in fun. Jim is at the wheel and the Amazon is throwing together some sandwiches. In so many ways it’s just another day at sea, yet no day is “just another day.”

I, too, am sitting on our amazingly steady foredeck, with pen and paper on a borrowed piece of floorboard, indelicately wedged between my knees. The spinnaker flies high above me, waves are crashing all around, and we are taking a high-speed sleigh ride across the Pacific. This morning on the ham radio net our nearest neighbor was an Argentine Naval Frigate 600 miles SW of our plotted position. Can you imagine that?

We are nearly 2,000 miles west of Panama, 1,800 miles SW of San Diego, and still days from landfall at Hiva Oa in the Marquesas Islands. Soon, maybe tomorrow, Easter Sunday, we will cross into the Southern Hemisphere, fulfilling in this tiny boat, my big long-time goal. Aside from God, who is always on the seas with us, we are totally alone in this gigantic expanse of open ocean. For an average guy like me, it certainly fulfills my dreams for adventure, peace, and what I happily sense is becoming a more meaningful life.

Remember Dad, when you told me as a kid, the Pacific is larger than all the landmasses of the world put together—well, it’s hard to believe but here we are—smack dab in the middle. Except for the Navy boat out there somewhere, there isn’t a living person within 1,000 miles—360 degrees around us!

Nature is a fascinating companion. The wind blows constantly, dolphin race alongside often kissing the bow as they roll and go airborne to look up at us. We have learned how to mimic their call hoping to keep them close for longer periods.

Flying fish play around us all day and night, while huge Pacific rollers rocket us down their fronts and into the night, often with a phosphorescent glow. The Heavens are awesome. We know the stars now. They are our friends, guiding and greeting us as they have mariners through all of recorded time. I hope you can feel my humility.

Our bodies are bronzed, our muscles toned, and minds sharpened. The routines of the day are simple, but there is no room for mistakes. We’ve made a few, and there’s no one here to help us. I have never been so self-sufficient, so gratified, or so thankful, and I like it this way.

Thank you Mom, Dad, for your wisdom and guidance that are so helping me achieve my goals.

I love you dearly!