St. Croix is like the estranged sibling of the Virgin Islands. This far-away land of sparsely populated countryside intrigued me. After spending considerable time exploring St Thomas and St John, it felt only fair to give St. Croix some attention, too. Perhaps the most enticing part of this adventure was the sail itself. 40 nautical miles south, St Croix offers a beautiful beam reach in both directions, there and back - there’s really no reason not to go!

Being comfortable with solitude takes both time and practice. Though I pride myself in my independence, I realized that being well and truly alone is a much different thing than being independent in the presence of others. In the weeks on my own in late December, I slipped into various habits that help keep my days structured and happily independent. The chaos of arriving in a new place and getting settled had worn off, and I was left to figure out how to live this very different life on my own.

So come with me, let your mind drift off to turquoise blue waters and lush green mountainsides…That’s where we’re going. It’s called St. John.

I spent this Christmas in the sand and sea, rather than the snow. I’m accustomed to a very cold, yet cozy, holiday season. This year was quite the contrary. Bella and I were anchored behind Hassel Island, tucked away from the hustle and bustle of Charlotte Amalie’s harborfront. I slept in a little, as I had spent Christmas Eve hanging out with the other family-less yachties at a little bar by the marina.

Thanksgiving morning greeted us with a sea of glass. Not a ripple of wind in sight. Sails rolled up and engines on, we were finally headed east. To conserve diesel, we were alternating engines every three hours - port, starboard, port, starboard - and that became our new rhythm for several days to come. Though I usually am the first to turn the engines off and the last to turn them on, I found that I didn't mind the stillness after so many days of crashing around. We eagerly got out the hose and washed the boat, watching the sticky salt crust fall away back into the ocean.

I arrived in the islands almost a week ago already, yet I’ve struggled to formulate words for this blog post. One little piece of writing cannot encompass the 1400+ nautical miles sailed or the 11 days and nights spent as a floating speck in the open ocean. During the passage, the simplest things brought joy and structure to our days, such that it’s difficult to relay their value to someone who wasn’t on the boat with us. So, please forgive my attempts at eloquence.

Preparing for a passage - and an entire season away from Bella’s home port of Wrightsville Beach - has been an adventure in itself. I actually think the 10-day offshore passage might end up being the least eventful part of it all!

October is both a fall and spring for me this year. How is that so? Well, it is the end of summer’s busy season in Wrightsville Beach, and the beginning of high season in the Caribbean, where I’ll be sailing Bella to in just a few weeks. I’m both slowing down and gearing up. It’s quite confusing.

Early spring of this year was when many ideas began forming. I suppose it makes sense, seasonally, that after a long and boat-less winter, we’d be longing for time on the water and dreaming up ideas to get there.

At the beginning of August, I saw one of my childhood dreams come to fruition: I moved onto a sailboat! Living on a boat is pretty much the only goal I’ve held consistent in my mind’s eye for the duration of my 22 years of life. This dream began forming long before I was aware of it.