Life Four Point Zero – It's time to go!

February 7, 2026January 31, 2026

Aground, Ep. 224

“Guests, like fish, begin to smell after three days.”

There’s a few different versions of this comic refrain, but this one’s credited to our beloved Benjamin Franklin. Being on the water, we know a thing or two about smelly fish, and about uncomfortable guest experiences; it doesn’t take long to hear stories from fellow sailors. Onboard Sea Rose, however, we follow a few simple guidelines to make sure everything goes smoothly. First, we don’t guarantee where we will pick up our guests or drop them off. We always tell them that it is a lot easier to move people to a boat then to move a boat to the people. Second, there are a plethora of things that could go wrong, and flexibility is the key. One of us could get sick. Weather could disrupt our plans. Or, the boat could have an issue. We’ve never had to pull the boat card, until now.

Our dear friends Matt and Michelle, no strangers to Sea Rose or to travel itself, were well equipped in the flexibility department. Better yet, they don’t smell after three days! Despite the holidays, we were able to find a delightful house to rent. With a small pool, it was as close to a week of sailing around Martinique that we could offer.

Roughing it on land. Le Diamant, Martinique

January 31, 2026January 23, 2026

The Setup, Ep. 223

Reader note: You might be curious to know how we suddenly went from blogging recently in Madeira to blogging in the Caribbean. Worry not, you did not fall off of our new blog reminder emails! I’m afraid preparing and recovering from an ocean passage got in the way. And the rules for chronological story-telling have been broken, eh gads! I am no Erik Larson, but I do understand the benefit of time and context shifting when telling a story, so here goes…

Normally, embarking on a two night passage in the open Atlantic would have induced great quantities of fear in our souls and prompted a considerable amount of planning. But after our eleven day crossing from Ireland to Madeira, our next hop to the Canary Islands didn’t seem very daunting. Perhaps it should have, but in the moment, it seemed like only slightly more risky than a walk across a busy New York City street.

Our destination was the northern Canary island of Lanzarote. It was a bit of a zig-zag itinerary, as, after heading southeast we would then turn southwest to get to Las Palmas on the island of Grand Canaria, ground zero of the ARC+ rally.

January 22, 2026January 22, 2026

They Get You Coming and Going, Ep. 222a

I have been trying to cut down on the alcohol. I truly am. Nobody is espousing the heath benefits of drinking anymore. But after a hard day of work in the tropics, there’s only so much a glass of water can do for you. And, yes, I did say ‘work’. Many of our friends assume that when we arrive at the boat, especially at a place like here in the Caribbean, it is all stunning sunsets and umbrella drinks. The intense physicality of sailing as a sport can not be underestimated. There are several weeks at the beginning of the season consumed by loading gear, rigging sails, fixing equipment that suddenly stopped working, and doing upgrades to keep the boat functioning well so that the core season doesn’t become a long stream of repair projects. And there is the act of sailing itself. The raising and trimming of sails, the navigating, the studying of books and apps to find out where to anchor and what the weather has in store for us, the schlepping of groceries from store to dock to dinghy to boat. We do periodically get to our destination in time to enjoy a sunset and maybe a swim, but it is far from a cruise ship experience. I like to think about it like a backpacking trip. You plan well in advance, you test out your gear, you drive to the trailhead, you do the work of hiking to the summit, but there’s not a lot of time to dawdle, as you need to get to a place of safety to pitch the tent for the night, make dinner, and figure out when to break camp in the morning to give yourself enough time in-route to the next campsite.

Hurricane in hand, mind the tall grass blade!

December 27, 2025December 29, 2025

Getting The Band Back Together, Ep. 221

I knew it was a bad omen when the captain came on the PA and announced, ‘Folks, we are going to have to hold here on the tarmac to burn off fuel as we are currently overweight for take-off.’ Karen and I did a long, slow turn towards each other, meeting eye-to-eye. Friends know us as repeat luggage offenders with our overpacking of checked bags, and this flight was no different. We were headed from Boston to Grenada for the start of season 8 onboard Sea Rose, and we were packed to the gills. Our checked luggage included four additional solar panels in a long thin box encased in a bright orange duffel bag. I had tried to check these exact same solar panels on a pre-trip to Grenada back in September, but JetBlue rejected them outright, saying they do not accept items in cardboard boxes. This time, safely disguised in their duffel, the agent swiftly sent them on their way, without a moments hesitation, to the baggage conveyor and into the hidden inner sanctum of Logan’s luggage underbelly. Now, to hear our plane was overweight, we could only chuckle. Season 8 was already off to an ignominious start.

A sampling of the airline freight destined for Sea Rose

Truth be told, we were a little out of our element, heading to the boat in December. We had spent a splendid summer in New England, the first since 2016, when we began this off-kilter idea of sailing in retirement. We normally would be coming home at this time from a season in Europe to spend a Fall in the grandeur of changing leaves and the cooling air as prospects and plans were made for winter outings. But instead, we had hauled Sea Rose out in Grenada in April after spending the winter in the Caribbean, following our Atlantic crossing with the ARC+ rally, which in turn followed a busy summer of 2024 starting in Tromsö, Norway. We were inverting our plans, sailing in the winter in the Caribbean, avoiding the drama of summer hurricanes and heavy rains, and spending the summers at home.

January 11, 2025January 11, 2025

Dennis The Menace, Ep. 220

You hear a lot of people waxing on about the benefits of travel – that it helps open your mind to new cultures, that it helps you appreciate different ways of living, and that it helps to get you out of your comfort zone. It does all of that, for sure. But it also simply helps you with geography. Maybe because the United States is so big, Americans often rate very low in their knowledge of world geography. So, it was our goal when we started this project in 2017 to not only have fantastic days of sailing but also to expand our world knowledge. And arriving in Madeira fit right in with that mission. A short while ago I might have been able to tell you that Madeira was a type of cooking wine. That was it. Was it a island as well? How cool is that!

November 23, 2024January 6, 2025

Fatal Attraction, Ep. 219

There was no time like the present. Kinsale was to be our jumping off point as we headed offshore for 1300 nautical miles to Madeira, then onward to the Canaries. Situated as it was along the south coast of Ireland and out to sea from England and France, it made for a nice diving board of sorts to sail southbound unobstructed and in the fresh breezes of the Atlantic.

We had engaged with a weather router to help us determine when to leave, and once we were out in the deep blue wonder, determine the best routing to get to our destination. The problem was, Kinsale didn’t want to let us go. One low pressure system after another came marching across the North Atlantic sea. Many of these systems clipped the northern tip of Ireland before proceeding across Scotland and dissipating in Norway. We needed a 2-3 day period of manageable winds – something less than the 25+ knots of winds that these systems churned out. So, we tucked in and kept our minds busy with numerous projects, projects that had not made the ‘A’ list for departure, but now offered us a chance to be further prepared. And, it gave us a chance to get to know Alex better and for her to figure us out. We were really happy to find her. Alex taught sailing at the Boothbay Harbor Yacht Club back home in Maine. She also managed their complete waterfront operations. Her goal was to complement her US Coast Guard Captain’s License with additional offshore sea time in order to make a career out of being on the water. We had the offshore miles to give her, and in turn, we were super excited to have another person to stand watch and assist with navigating, sail trimming, and the myriad of other jobs onboard a sailboat at sea. The problem was, we couldn’t get out of Dodge.

Waiting on a weather window with Alex in Kinsale…beer and a fantastic fiddler help make the wait tolerable.

Fresh produce provisioning before our departure

November 9, 2024October 17, 2024

Next of kin-SAIL, Ep. 218

A light breeze pushed us along at a modest 3-4 knots of speed, a perfect pace to examine the outline of Cape Clear island as it disappeared to our stern. A bright blue day was the canvas upon which we traced our wanderings, a trail of bubbly water. The weather gods were making gestures of peace as the wind built enough for a gracious downwind sail, depositing us at the entrance to Baltimore harbor. Locals here like to remind us transatlantic kin that this was the first, the real Baltimore. Like everything, Americans had super-sized it, but here, an infant coastal town had just enough of the basics to put it on the map. A handful of cafes, pubs, and boutiques occupied the waterfront street while a sailing school with a bee-hive of young teenagers took over a corner of the harbor. I was thrilled to see a bunch of young girls, paired up with their moms, being given a shoreside walkthrough of their trailerable sailboats before they set out into the harbor. It was mother-daughter day on the water! Breezing past us in the direction of the cafe-scene were clutches of slightly older young adults dressed like it was a high-school prom, except this was August.

Missile-shaped monument at the entrance to Baltimore

Olympic spirit alive and well in Baltimore

October 26, 2024October 26, 2024

PTSD With An Emerald Glaze, Ep. 217

We awoke in the harbor of Inishmore on the Aran Islands to post-storm clear skies, a fresh breeze, and a full agenda. Our objective was the small fishing harbor of Fenit (fen-ISH), where, if our planning proved accurate, we could finally fill up with diesel and discontinue our miserly motoring tactics. The day looked promising for the 55 miles to go as we followed another sailboat out of the harbor and turned south between Inishmore and its close neighbor – geographically and phonetically – Irishmaan. Immediately, we were in the thick of it. Large swells, the detritus from yesterday’s storm, were being compressed in the narrow gap between the two islands. We have become quite aware of how angry compressed water can get. With still-limited diesel, we set sail and immediately took a close-hauled course through the gap, losing significant momentum each time Sea Rose’s bow came abruptly head to head with the next wave. White water and sea spray painted the cliffs to leeward on Inishmaan, ready to put us away should we lose our focus. I felt like a dental patient waiting with clinched fists, knowing that the pain will stop eventually yet wondering why it’s taking so long. Gradually the roar of the cliffs subsided and we found ourselves in open water with bigger waves but more elbow room to do our work. On flat water, we would have been able to easily make Fenit harbor on a single close-hauled tack but each wave introduced a little movement sideways instead of 100% forward. The technical wizard inside our chart plotter was following all of this activity closely and rather blithely painted a course-over-ground vector that incorporated the net effect of both movements. This vector, swinging in a 20-30 degree arc, had us not quite clearing the major points of land south of us. I tried hand steering to hold us on the razor’s edge of a heading that produced enough wind in our sails to keep us moving forward without luffing. At times we would be doing a respectable 6 knots through the water but then we’d slow to a painstaking 3-4 knots. With the big waves and choppy water, those 2-3 knots of extra speed make all the difference, with Sea Rose holding a steady course and driving through the chop instead of being at the mercy of the seas.

October 12, 2024October 8, 2024

Pushing Out The Bingo Years, Ep. 216

With such a passion for sailing, I’m not supposed to feel seasick. These are tame waters compared to what we will face in a month when we cross down to the Canaries. But the human body is a complex and confusing piece of machinery; and, as we head out from Port Ellen in the pre-dawn darkness for Ireland, my stomach says it would much rather be laying in bed on terra firma. But forward progress is important. Ireland appears faintly in the distance to port as the sun starts to rise behind us over the Scottish island of Islay where we had, just the day before, bid adieu to our friends Suzy and Dave. Our intention was to sail across the top of Ireland and continue on around the northwest corner before heading down the west coast with an ultimate destination of Kinsale, a total distance of 400 miles. From Port Ellen there are two routes, one west then south – the present course we were on – or south through the Irish Sea past Dublin and then west along the south coast of Ireland, with the unfortunate scenario of beating upwind to get to Kinsale. On the flip side, the west coast is completely exposed to the wrath of the North Atlantic. We would no longer have the benefit of an inner route like we enjoyed along the coast of Norway, nor the route inside the Outer Hebrides in Scotland. But, if we could handle the west coast, there was promise of many interesting headlands along the prominent peninsulas such as the Donegal and Dingle, and many more islands to choose from. So westward ho we went.

August 17, 2024August 12, 2024

Weaving a Scottish Tapestry, Ep. 215

At 23, wrapping up an engineering degree and, in my parent’s view, possessing all of the skills to shake up the corporate world, make lots of money, and release my parents from their state of worry, my wayward intentions caused a bit of a fright. I wanted to cross an ocean, and in truth, I wanted to keep going around the world. It’s a good thing for my parent’s sanity that the Clipper Round the World race had yet to be conceived. This race, comprised of eight legs across the globe, had chosen the port of Oban as the start of it’s last leg enroute to Portsmouth, UK. We had to be back in Oban anyway to welcome onboard our friends Dave and Suzy for a week of Scottish sailing and culture. The chance to view the start of this epic race was a cherry on the top. Eleven boats have been competing since the race started in September 2023 and each crew sails on an identical boat, a custom built 70 foot racing machine led by a professional skipper and first mate. The remainder of the 22 person crew is comprised of amateur sailors paying their way – up to $70,000 for the complete journey. That price might have been a serious reality check for 23 year old me. I know I wasn’t the only one with a fitful start to young adulthood; somewhere along the way I found myself working a respectable job, making money and extending the life expectancy of my parents. Still it would have been an amazing experience to skipper one of these go-fast boats.