Dear Newport, You gave us your best, and we gave you our toilet again. My sincerest apologies.  I remember your glorious dumpster, mere feet from the dinghy dock and adjacent to the maritime center where we did our laundry—so convenient. But…

Ships log, August 23, 23:02, N 42 30.137’ W 069 26.554’ AWS 8.6, AWA 152, SOG 7.19 with Spinnaker and Main. We haven’t sailed overnight in months. I had pre-departure jitters, but last night, there was a dome of stars…

Maine in June was wet this year. It rained for thirty days and thirty nights (No kidding.) When John & Stacey showed up at the dinghy dock on July 5th, the sun came out, and for the next five days,…

My view is quintessential New England. A rocky shoreline sprinkled with earth-toned cape houses frames a foggy horizon, and a handful of coy lobster pots bob in the distance, misrepresenting the magnitude of what's to come. We know it will…

One of the things I like most about the sailing life is that silly American holidays no longer dictate what we should celebrate when. Sorry folks, but I don't give a rat's ass about New Year's Eve, Valentine's Day, or…

Question: How do Michael and I sail both Gerty’s from Antigua to Rhode Island?  Answer: We don’t. We expected to be the unfortunate owners of two boats for a short time, and that time is now. So we made a…

I had forgotten what it's like to soar above the clouds like this. Sitting in a temperature-controlled cabin, relying entirely on a stranger to captain this ship in the sky, I'm free to look out the porthole and peer at…

Gerty girl is for sale It hurts to say good-bye Remember our first gale, the blue whale Low tied and highest high We ran aground in softest sand The kids jumped off your lofty bow Remember the first time we…

What a view! A bottle of 3M marine wax sits on the table in the foreground while a blue quick-dry towel, wet suit, and mesh vinyl backing to the nav station desk chair hang on the port side lifeline. A…

On the first night of our Atlantic Crossing my true love gave to me a LUMPY, BUMBY, ROLLY SEA. On the second night of our Atlantic Crossing my true love gave to me TWO HOURS OF DRAGGING A BUOY, and…

Chapter 1 Off our starboard side, there's something there, silhouetted against the sun. Slender, and wooden, it comes into view. Three dark-as-night fishermen are on board, two standing and one sitting at the outboard. They stare at us, and we…

A year and a half ago we met a young German doctor in the Azores who told us tales about a foreign land where the children are so friendly that they paddle into the river to your sailboat just to…