Anyone who spends time on the water—especially offshore—knows that the ocean can be unforgiving.

What complicates that reality today is the expectation created by modern technology. Starlink, instantaneous communication, and powerful weather tools like PredictWind can foster a subtle but dangerous illusion: that knowing more automatically means being safer. That’s only partially true.

As rally director for the Salty Dawg Sailing Association, I often heard comments suggesting that sailing in a rally meant help was close at hand. While excellent communication and shoreside support are valuable, they don’t change the fundamentals nearly as much as many believe.

Casual dockside conversations—especially with those who haven’t spent time offshore—often include some version of, “Well, it must be safer having others around in a rally.” They’re usually surprised when I explain that during an offshore passage we almost never see another rally boat, even when a hundred boats are out there together.

The tracking map reinforces the illusion. Watching dots crawl across the screen gives the impression that everyone is close. They aren’t.

The simple fact is that once you’re offshore, you’re subject to the same perils mariners have faced for centuries—albeit with better odds of a good outcome. You are essentially on your own. The real advantage of modern weather tools is not safety in the moment, but avoidance: the ability to steer clear of truly dangerous conditions, or at least receive enough warning to prepare when challenging weather is unavoidable.

Someone once told me, “A real sailor should be prepared for whatever they encounter. If they aren’t, they shouldn’t be out there. And if you’re prepared, just go—weather or not.” With the tools available today, leaving without the best possible information is not bold—it’s irresponsible, and it puts others at risk.

Most passages last a week or two. With good forecasting—both before departure and underway—it’s generally reasonable to avoid most conditions that would otherwise test the limits of boat and crew.

Good information, however, is only part of the equation. A successful voyage ultimately depends on the condition of the boat, the quality of preparation, and the conditions encountered along the way.

And just as important as all of that is attitude.

For many sailors, the Fisherman’s Prayer speaks directly to this point. The classic poem by Winfred Ernest Garrison goes like this:

Thy sea, O God, so great,
My boat so small.
It cannot be that any happy fate
Will me befall
Save as Thy goodness opens paths for me
Through the consuming vastness of the sea.

Thy winds, O God, so strong,
So slight my sail.
How could I curb and bit them on the long
And saltry trail,
Unless Thy love were mightier than the wrath
Of all the tempests that beset my path?

Thy world, O God, so fierce,
And I so frail.
Yet, though its arrows threaten oft to pierce
My fragile mail,
Cities of refuge rise where dangers cease,
Sweet silences abound, and all is peace.

Though not explicitly about sailing, Garrison’s words speak directly to our relationship with the sea.

Garrison was born in St. Louis in 1879, which surprised me. I had always assumed the poem was centuries old. More surprising still: he had never been to sea. And yet he captured, perfectly, the universal thoughts of anyone who has found themselves hundreds—or thousands—of miles from land in a small boat.

What technology cannot provide is nerve, patience, and judgment. It is attitude—every bit as much as electronics—that gives us our best chance of a good outcome.

Strip away shoreside support, Starlink, and the most current forecasts, and the truth remains: offshore, you take what you’re given and deal with it as calmly and deliberately as possible.

There’s an old adage: “If you feel like you should reef, you should have done so already.”

Last summer, on my approach to the coast of Portugal—the final night of a passage from São Miguel to Gibraltar—the GRIBs suggested 20–25 knots on the beam. What I found in the middle of the night was closer to 30–35. A big difference.

I was double-reefed with a partially rolled jib, but I should have put in the third reef. Once things were fully “on,” with waves occasionally breaking over the cabin top, I couldn’t bring myself to go forward to secure the clew. We did fine, but the boat was clearly overpowered.

I mention this because while I’ve used Chris Parker for weather routing throughout our cruising life, on that passage I only requested forecasts for the first few days. I assumed I could handle the rest unless something changed.

What I didn’t know—and learned later from Chris—is that models routinely underestimate winds immediately east of Portugal. I simply wasn’t as prepared as I should have been.

I strongly believe in using professional weather routing for the entire passage. In this case, I went against my own advice. We were lucky. Pandora came through without damage, and while it was tough at times, we were never in real danger. Still, luck played a role—and next time, on a 900-mile run, I won’t skimp on support.

Support or not, the truth remains:

Thy sea so great. My boat so small.

When acquaintances learn that we have a boat, one of the first questions is always, “How big is it?” My answer is, “That depends on how close you are to a dock.”

Pandora feels enormous when I’m inches from something hard. Hundreds of miles offshore, she feels very small indeed.

Those words—“Thy sea so great and my boat so small”—have been proven to me more than once.

I believe strongly that it is the skipper’s responsibility to use every available resource, even while accepting that offshore we ultimately rely on ourselves. One area that concerns me is what I think of as amateur weather routing—skippers who believe models alone are enough.

After more than a decade and over 30,000 bluewater miles, I’ve learned repeatedly that unless weather is your full-time focus, you simply can’t match the knowledge of someone who has spent years refining that craft.

A well-found boat, modern equipment, and weather support are only as good as the skipper and crew. To believe otherwise is dangerous.

As Malcolm Gladwell put it:

“It takes ten thousand hours to truly master anything. Time spent leads to experience; experience leads to proficiency; and the more proficient you are, the more valuable you’ll be.”

Getting on a boat—whether as skipper or crew—without using every available resource is folly.

A young friend recently asked me to serve as a reference when he signed on as crew for a late-season Annapolis-to-Caribbean passage. After answering the skipper’s questions about my friend, I asked what weather routing support he planned to use.

He told me—proudly—that he’d been in the Navy, had seen plenty of weather files, and didn’t need a router.

That worried me.

I cautioned my friend. Sure enough, they only made it to the mouth of the Chesapeake before turning back—the front they were trying to outrun arrived early. Could they have avoided this if they’d had professional support? Who knows, but my money is on the professional for good guidance.

Forecasts are far better than they were even a few years ago, but I’ve seen many passages where GRIBs painted one picture, only for reality to deliver something very different a few days later.

Conditions change.

One thing doesn’t.

Thy sea is so great, and my boat is so small.

No kidding.

It might be smooth sailing.

But it might not.

Sailor, take warning.

We often hear that there is no such thing as privacy on the web anymore and I suppose with social media and all the ways we share information about our lives, knowing that out there “somebody knows all about us”, should not surprise anyone.

Recently my friend Bill, who always ends his emails a statement making it clear that the content was not generated by AI, did a blog post recently about his years of cruising with his wife Maureen, as seen through the “eyes” of AI, discovering, much to his chagrin, that “he, her, they… know all”.

So, after 15 years of me and Brenda keeping our blogs I thought it would be interesting to see what sort of information Chat GPT knows about the two of us and and “his” take on that.

So, I asked: “What do you know about Bob and Brenda aboard SV Pandora? And, please summarize what you know about their time together for winters since 2012 when they made their first run south to the Bahamas. Please keep this to about 100 to 150 words.”

Answer(s), unedited from Chat GPT:

Using sailpandora.com and argoknot.com explicitly makes the contrast clearer and more nuanced. SailPandora presents sailing as a core organizing principle of Bob’s life: voyaging, seamanship, community leadership, and problem-solving are central themes. Sailing is not just an activity for him; it is a framework for purpose, learning, and engagement with others.

ArgoKnot, on the other hand, shows that Brenda’s relationship to sailing is contextual rather than defining. Her writing emphasizes observation, interior life, creative work, and adaptation. Sailing is the setting in which she lives, thinks, and creates—but not the goal itself. She often frames cruising as something she has grown into, negotiated, and reshaped to fit her own needs rather than something she sought for its own sake.

Together, the two sites reveal a partnership where sailing is Bob’s passion and Brenda’s chosen accommodation—made sustainable through respect, humor, and parallel but not identical fulfillment.

Ok, scary already especially since this is after scouring nearly 2,000 posts in a few seconds.

My next qestion to Chat GPT: “Tell me what you see about how they differ in where sailing fits into their lives together using www.sailpandora.com and www.argoknot.com for source material”

Answer: Bob is clearly the driving force behind their cruising lifestyle—sailing is his passion and central to how he structures their winters and adventures since retiring in 2012 aboard SV Pandora. He delights in passages, exploring new waters and engaging with the cruising community; it’s an integral expression of his interests and energy. Sail Pandora

Brenda, by contrast, participates willingly but more as a companion to Bob’s passion. She describes herself as a “reluctant sailor” and a “cream puff,” preferring her fiber arts like weaving, knitting, embroidery and other crafts. While she does enjoy time aboard and even incorporates her textile hobbies into cruising days, her heart often leans toward those creative pursuits rather than sailing itself. Sail Pandora+1

Together they balance Bob’s enthusiasm for voyaging with Brenda’s quieter, craft-centered engagement,.

Oh boy… I then asked to have it, he, she, they, to pick a few posts that specifically lead to observations about changing views

Here are specific blog posts and entries that support the observation about how Bob’s and Brenda’s views of cruising have shifted over the years:

From SailPandora (Bob’s blog) showing evolving cruising focus:

• December 2023 post — Bob reflects on broader, long-term goals beyond Caribbean cruising, contemplating Mediterranean/Europe plans, and acknowledges that Brenda isn’t as thrilled about long months aboard as he is.
• June 2025 passage post — Bob describes sailing nearly to the Azores, noting Brenda’s “nine seasons in the Caribbean was just about enough,” and how new cruising grounds (“crossing the pond”) became essential to keep the adventure alive.
• March 2022 post in Marigot Bay — Bob mentions Brenda being far more excited about their upcoming flight home than staying aboard, illustrating differences in cruising enthusiasm even mid-season. Sail Pandora

From ArgoKnot (Brenda’s blog) showing her evolving perspective:

• Recent posts (e.g., March 2024) — Brenda talks about wrapping up a tough season, with weather challenges and the routine of flying home after cruising, capturing a seasoned yet pragmatic perspective. ArgoKnot
• Posts tagged travel and sailing — She documents experiences ashore in the Azores or Antigua, blending cruising details with creative/artistic life, showing how her narrative is more about place and personal pursuits than sailing itself. ArgoKnot

These examples show how Bob’s writing has become more ambitious and goal-oriented, pushing to explore new horizons after many Caribbean seasons, while Brenda’s writing remains grounded in lived experience and personal rhythm, reflecting cruising in the context of daily life, creative work, and weather/weather-related comfort. The contrast between planning big cruising goals and documenting the lived, tactile experience of being onboard and ashore illustrates how their perspectives have matured and sometimes diverged since their first run south in 2012.

Brenda and I were stunned when we saw the near instantaneous answers tp some pretty specific questions and it does make me wonder where things are headed as this technology gets stronger, and it’s only beginning.

With the current administration ever more focused on getting their way and punishing those who disagree it is not hard to imagine this technology to extract just about everything you or I write and to use it to, well to do something really nasty to anyone that they disagree with.

All of this makes me think of a photo that my photographer friend Ed Gifford took of a crew member aboard the schooner Columbia when she was nearly swept overboard when we were out racing a few years ago. Yes, the waters are rising and raging…

It is clear that AI and the potential harm that can come from this power in the wrong hands, is pretty scary stuff.

Oh boy. Now I am stressed. Perhaps I will close with a soothing cloud picture, rainbow and all. With the onslaught of bad news from Washington these days, I definitely want to think that there is still something nice at the end of the rainbow.

Good or bad, we have no secrets.

I have often said that change by evolution is safer than change by revolution and changes that happen logically, building incrementally on what has come before are more manageable and generally less likely to lead to unintended consequences.

And, now that 2025 has come and gone, I realize that last year was indeed a pivotal one.

After nearly a decade of cruising the eastern Caribbean, to do a trans-Atlantic crossing and commit to a number of seasons of cruising the Mediterranean was in itself a big change. As jarring as it has been to give up winters afloat and summers at our “land home” in CT this “next chapter” as been a fairly logical progression of our cruising life together in a way that I might even label as “sustainable”.

This most recent chapter has taken me and Pandora “across the pond” and a logical, if big, next step in Brenda’s and my time together afloat. When we were in our 20s, back in the early 1980s, we purchased our first sailboat, a 20′ Cape Cod Sailboat, Tao. This photo was taken when we brought her down to Black Rock from her previous home on Mystic with our friends Chris and Pat. Brenda got terribly seasick on this two day run and made it clear to all that this was not a great start to a life of cruising together.

Chris and Pat, still close friends decades later, were our constant companions in those early years on weekend “cruises” around Long Island Sound.

Then everything changed with the arrival of our first son Rob. Notice that Brenda is wearing a hand woven shawl and hand knitted sweater. Nothing has changed in the fiber department after all these years. As I write this she is down in the studio warping up the loom for yet another project. And ditto for knitting. Always knitting.

She still loves scarves and has dozens, no hundreds. She can only wear one at a time and most days she is cycling through her stash as she did as we celebrated the 53rd anniversary of our first date recently. I don’t remember if she wore something knitted on that first date though.

Brenda’s “fiber” repertoire has grown substantially to include a lot more than just weaving and knitting. One thing that has not stood the test of time is fishing or even catching anything herself that might become dinner, for that matter. I expect that she knitted that sweater as well.

After those carefree years of no kids, everything changed but in some ways didn’t as we continued to spend many summer weekends afloat and our boys Rob and Chris grew up aboard a progression of bigger and much more complex, boats. That was a much simpler time for sure.

When I retired in 2012, with both boys grown and on their own by then, we were still in good health and not too old to “cast off the dock lines”, we headed south aboard our previous Pandora, our SAGA 43′, via the ICW, bound for the Bahamas. This was a huge adjustment for us as that trip took the better part of 8+ months, marking our transition from weekend to seasonal liveaboard cruising.

Our son Christopher , a grad student at Columbia at the time, rode his bike and greeted us as we exited Hell’s Gate and headed down the East River in Manhattan for points south.

He took what became, for us, an iconic shot of the evolution of our cruising life.

We raced, Chris on his bike, and us with the outgoing tide on our way to the Battery.

We barely outran (out floated?) him. He climbed over the fence at The Battery, to cries of “don’t jump, from bystanders. He didn’t..

We circled Pandora near the Battery, waved good by, and turned toward the lower bay. This shot of Brenda smiling followed a few tears as Chris faded into the distance.

We had a wonderful trip including a stop in Annapolis for the sailboat show and then on to Hampton VA where we began our run down the ICW, all the way to Ft Lauderdale and across to the Bahamas.

It was a big adjustment for Brenda, being away for so long and leaving all of her “people” behind. We worked hard to make Pandora, then a SAGA 43, feel like home. Flowers did a lot to make things seem right. The G&Ts and fresh oysters helped…

With regards to things staying the same, after all these years we still try to have flowers aboard Pandora and always at home. With Brenda’s birthday “celebration” mid January, and it’s a big one, celebrations began right after New Years with even more flowers than usual.

As we made our way south were able to anchor in some beautiful spots along the way like this creek between some abandoned rice fields in South Carolina.

With many stops along the way, some for a week or more, the trip from Long Island Sound to Florida took us 2.5 months. We were particularly fond of St Augustine where we had lunch at a café. Both then and now, waterside cafes remain a regular part of our routine. I expect that cafes will be an even bigger part of our time in the Med.

The knitting continued all the way south…

We spent much of the winter in The Bahamas that year and several more after that.

We weren’t ready for the impossibly clear water. We have been told that the clarity of the water in the Bahamas is unequaled. For sure, it’s clearer than in most of the Caribbean. It as easy to slip off the back of the boat and be able to see the anchor in front of the boat, sometimes upwards of 150 away.

And a LOT of sharks. Most of the sharks are harmless nurse sharks but I have never recovered from seeing “Jaws” and being in the water with something that big still isn’t my first choice.

Our boys visited us that winter. It’s hard to believe that they are both 40 now. And, Rob (on the right) has since married Kandice and we now have three grandchildren. With busy lives and a trio of children, joining us aboard is no longer on the agenda.

Chris has joined us a few times but he too is so busy that even getting time off isn’t easy.

Cuba beckoned during that very brief time in 2016 when things opened up. Sadly, conditions since then have been so much worse and now, with Cuba in the news, and leadership change all the rage in Washington, perhaps things will change there as well. Speaking of “evolution vs revolution” who knows how it will go for the Cuban people.

Never the less, being there was an amazing experience capped off by a live concert, one of the largest in history with 500,000 people, by the Rolling Stones.

All and all, an unequaled two months cruising the coast of Cuba. If you are curious, check out the many posts at these links, March and April 2016.

After that season we followed friends to the Caribbean and I became active as a board member of the Salty Dawg Sailing Association. The group has been running a rally from VA to the BVI for a few years and I successfully moved the destination to Antigua where it has been for 8 years and going strong.

We enjoyed cruising the islands south of Antigua for quite a few years but eventually Brenda decided that going to the same places year after year was getting old and wanted something new.

Her initial suggestion, somewhat serious, was to perhaps sell Pandora and stay close to home. She put it this way “let’s buy a little Beetle Catboat and you can sail it back and forth in front of the Essex Yacht Club and I will sit on the deck with a glass of wine and wave…”

Oh boy! I had to do something, anything, to avoid that.

Here’s an idea Brenda… How about the Med? Brenda had studied classics, Latin and Greek and had spent two semesters, one in Rome and the other in Greece. And so began a “slightly” desperate look for information that would appeal to her as the next option.

After a series of conversations with “those who have gone before…”, she agreed so off to the Med.

“Good save Bob!”

Ok, with that plan in place, I proposed to the Salty Dawg Board that we add a rally to the Azores and they agreed.

When I arrived in Horta, Azores, Brenda joined me and we explored the islands for a month before she headed to Scotland with a friend and I headed to spain. Along the way I “donated” part of my rudder to a pack of Orcas but given how much “mileage” I have gotten with the telling of that story, I guess it was worth it. If you somehow missed the orcas thing, follow this link. It was an experience…

I love giving presentations about all the great places that we have visited and it’s pretty clear to me that adding “orcas attack” to the description makes for a much more enthusiastic audience. Damage, sinking’s, death and orca attacks make for a compelling story and I will take orcas attacks over other “exciting” options any time.

All and all, lots has happened since 2012 when we first pointed our bow south toward The Bahamas but if someone had told me that we would eventually add Cuba, the Caribbean, a transatlantic and now the Mediterranean, I would have said “unlikely”.

And for much of that time, our boys saying “that’s just dad trying to make Mom like sailing.”

Likely or not, I like to think that all of this has been a logical progression involving lots of discussion, compromising and plenty pivots, but if anyone had told me way back when we were aboard our 20′ Tao, that I would be writing about sailing in the Med now, I would not have believed it.

And with a “near miss” of me on the river and Brenda on the clubhouse deck, I consider myself particularly lucky.

2025 has certainly proven to be a year of transition, well into our second decade of cruising together. Well, actually a lot longer than that given the fact that we began sailing together way back in Highschool.

With all of the cruising we have done together, crossing the Atlantic to begin our next big adventure, makes me appreciate, even more, that 2025 was indeed a year of transition.

Stay tuned and wish us luck…

Details to come.

The holidays have come and gone and gone and the full weight of a New England winter has shown up and it’s VERY DIFFERENT than the tropical winters of the last 12 years. We have had snow several times and there will surely be more on the way.

I also know that we are getting into winter as the fall Frostbite series has come and gone. And, let me tell you, sailing in cold weather is not at all like the Caribbean and to be in foul weather gear and still being cold was a new experience as with a full enclosure, even with thousands of ocean miles over the years, I have hardly worn gear all that time. After a decade of southern, my blood is plenty thin.

Being in an increasingly cold and cloudy/dreary place now and realizing that it’s only going to get worse has made me all the more focused on what comes next when we return to Pandora for a new season of sailing in our new stomping grounds, the western Mediterranean.

After more than a decade of winters afloat that took us down the Intra Coastal Waterway from CT to Florida then several seasons in the Bahamas, a few months in Cuba and now 9 seasons in the Eastern Caribbean, the idea of cruising in the Mediterranean is so new to me that I really don’t know how to imagine out time what our time aboard next spring will bring. Heck, I can’t even consistently spell Mediterranean without spell-check…

The repairs to Pandora’s rudder are complete and I have decided to hold off on repairs to the Hydrovane as I don’t expect to use it while I am in the Med anyway. I do want to have the main shaft looked at to see if it can be bent back into place without compromising the unit. As the shaft was only marginally bent, we will see how it looks and decide what to do next.

I also remain concerned about the primary rudder bearings after they took such a beating from the orcas, when they ripped off the bottom of my rudder. While the obvious damage has been fixed, I remain anxious about possible hidden damage to the bearings from the massive side loads that they were subjected to. When I head back, now planned for mid March, I will have a good look at the unit along with the steering gear linkage to see if I can detect any damage. When the boat is sailing in rough conditions, these areas a subject to enormous loads and I’d hate to find out that there was damage that I didn’t see and have the worse happen…

So the plan is to head back to Spain to get Pandora ready for our two months of spring cruising before heading back to the US for the summer and back to the Med for two months in the fall. As excited as we are about this new chapter, we aren’t crazy about giving up summers in CT hence the split visit.

We have had several discussions with friends who have spent time …….Recently we talked to a cruising couple about their time in the Western Med and they highlighted Easter week in Cartagena, Spain as a must see event. Throughout southern Spain the festivals are quite spectacular with a week of parades and festivals.

Cartagena is about 150 miles from Almerimar which will be a single overnight or two long days. As there aren’t any natural harbors on the coast in this part of Spain, I expect that we will try to do the run in a single shot to avoid docking just for a single night in an unfamiliar marina, only to move on the very next morning.

This short video gives a good feel for what the city has to offer including some of the best Roman ruins in Europe. Although, if you do all that they suggest in a single day, you will be stuffed, drunk and exhausted. For us, perhaps stretching their recommendations to a week makes sense.

While there are many elaborate celebrations for Easter in Spain, Cartagena is the only one that is held in an area with a marina. Another benefit is that Cartagena is also on the way to the Balearics where we expect to to spend perhaps a month exploring those islands.

Easter in Cartagena lasts for a full week and features elaborate parades and festivals every day. The processions feature some huge floats, carried on the shoulders of many people as they make their way through the meandering streets.

There are a lot of costumes that look like the KKK but there does not appear to be any direct link. Additionally, these costumes are centuries older than the KKK that was formed shortly after the Civil War. These costumes come in all sorts of colors representing different clans or religious sects.

And speaking of inspiration, perhaps this float, and others like it, have something to do with the recent remodeling of the Oval Office.

Cartegenial is also the home of some of the most amazing Roman ruins in Europe, like this Roman amphitheatre.

I have been in touch with the marina in Cartagena for an Easter visit and learned that dockage for Pandora will be perhaps in the $75 a night or so. Not terrible and with so much to see, we will surely spend a full week there before moving on.

After the Easter celebrations we hope to head to the Balearics, a group of islands off of the Spanish Coast and home to the “Yachting scene” each summer with mega-yachts making their home there for much of the season.

We really don’t know much about that area, I will admit, but from what we have been told, Ibiza is a good place to start as it’s less built up than Palma.

This video gives a good feel for all that is possible to enjoy on the island of Ibeza. Some, I will admit, is a bit too “hip” for me and Brenda but it seems that there is still plenty to do for those of us that “are of a certain age”. And, speaking of “a certain age”, there is even a “hippy village”.

So, where is Pandora going next? This seems like as good a plan as any and given the fact that we have never been there…Well, wish us luck.

Next step, find flights to get us to Pandora which is no simple feat.

Now, if I can just keep from freezing to death in the meantime. Ha!

The crew of Pandora are home in CT, Hurricane Melissa has come and gone and the Salty Dawg Caribbean Rally fleet is on their way south to Antigua.

As they make their way south here I am in CT, thinking about spring. The coming cold weather is going to take some getting used to, as with rare exception, we have not been home during the winter for a decade.

Beginning in 2012 Brenda and took a big gulp and shoved off for the Bahamas, making our way down the Intra Coastal Waterway, arriving in Ft Lauderdale in December and then crossing to the Bahamas in early January. And, for nearly every year since then, we have avoided the cold New England winters, until now…

2012 seems so long ago and since then we have spent several seasons in the Bahamas, a few months in Cuba and for nearly a decade seasons in the eastern Caribbean.

This is us as we began our run from CT way back then.

And this is us this August in Madrid. A bit older but still pretty good. Right?

And, while I am on a roll. A photo of us out for dinner recently for the 53rd anniversary of our first date on October 28th, 1972. Yikes!

Enough? Be glad that I didn’t fall farther down that rabbit hole and start showing wedding photos or pix of our grandchildren.

Ok, back to the topic at hand.

Now, with Pandora in Spain after my trans-Atlantic run this year, (not bad for an old guy, right?) our plans have us in the Med for the next few years. The plan is trade the balmy winters of the Caribbean for time in the spring and fall in the Med.

Don’t get me wrong, I am pretty excited about exploring the Med but between now and our time aboard beginning in April, looms a long New England winter and as the fleet heads south, I have to admit that I am feeling a bit left out.

This flipping of the seasons has lead to many changes to our routine, the details only beginning to emerge. During the summer we have two large caldrons with water plants and a few koi and goldfish. In past years we have returned the fish to the watergarden place in the fall and gone back for some “new” ones each spring.

Well, given my new “landlocked” state this winter I thought it would be fun to “winter” the fish at home and purchased a used 50 gallon aquarium for my office so I can keep those fish for the winter instead of giving them up. I mention this as this is just one example of what I am focusing on to offer myself solace as winter approaches. Sailing…fish tank…? At least it is water, I guess…

The tank, complete with a dozen small goldfish/koi is giving me something to focus on as I prepare for a “long winter nap”.

I mention this as “feeding time at the zoo” has become a sort of weird parable for how I feel as I see winter approaching. Before I explain more, perhaps this short video of the fish, will set the stage.

Over the last month or so the fish have become accustomed to my presence as an opportunity to be fed and they go crazy as I approach.

Yes, this is a particularly odd analogy, but to me as the fish go crazy trying to get my attention, vibrating with excitement, hoping that they will get what they want, I can’t help but compare them to my own circumstances as I too watch from the “other side of the glass”, the 100+ Salty Dawg Rally boats that are making their way south for the winter.

A frenzy of FOMO, Fear-of-Missing-Out, or in my case, just a simple MO, Missing-Out, after more than a decade of winters afloat is taking some getting used to.

As I consider what the Rally folks are doing as they head south, I am feeling like I too am “on the outside looking in”, and I don’t like it at all 🙁

Of course, that totally ignores the reality that we will soon be sailing in the waters of Odysseus and there is likely no better way to see the Mediterranean countries than by boat, the same way that that famous Greek traveler did so long ago. He was Greek, right? Shows that I have a lot to learn, doesn’t it.

The problem for me is that I really don’t know what to expect. The questions are endless. I suppose that there are just as many uncertainties now as I had when I first contemplated heading to the Caribbean. Where should I go? Were there places to anchor that would be sheltered? Was it going to be terribly complicated and expensive to move from country to country?

All these questions and more are now back on the table but as I learn more about the waters we will be exploring I expect that my MO will soon be replaced by WMNMOAA, We-May-Not-Miss-Out-After-All, and hopefully in time by WADI, “We-Are-Doing-It”. I expect what lies ahead will be great fun and perhaps even better than what we have seen in the Caribbean.

Yes, I am currently feeling a bit of FOMO, or a resignation that it’s more like MO, so I think that I had better reach out to others that have gone before and learn from them.

So, have you sailed in the Med and want to share your experiences? I hope so and if you want to talk reach out to me at bob@sailpandora.com.

Please write… I have the whole winter ahead of me and am anxious to pivot as soon as possible from MO to WADI and soon.

If you too are suffering from MO, check out the fleet tracking map for the 100+ boats that are heading south as part of the Salty Dawg Rally to the Caribbean.