After real doubt and real heat, we soon turn east — toward home
Onward to China, South Korea, and Seattle. A few days ago, I wasn’t sure I would write those words.
After Leg 5 — brutal heat, injury, exhaustion, and the mental grind of three weeks in a floating furnace — I publicly wrestled with whether I would continue the Clipper Race.
The doubt was real but so is this: I’m continuing.
Rest Brings Perspective
Time off the boat changes things. Sleep changes things.
Most of the aches from my fall in the galley have faded. My back and tailbone no longer remind me every time I sit down that I misjudged one violent lurch. The body, given time, recalibrates. So does the mind.
The brutal heat from Australia to the Philippines took more out of me mentally than I realized. Three weeks of 95° air above and below deck. Sweat that never dried. Salt that never left. I grew up — and still live — in tropical Florida and it was still brutal.
Sometimes it’s not towering waves or violent storms that wear you down. This time it was the slow burn.
The Response I Didn’t Expect
What I did not expect was the response.
Encouragement from family, messages from friends, hugs from friends on other boats who read my post. Messages about stacking BB’s while standing on my head and notes that reminded me that my Navy bootcamp and training remains the hardest success I have ever earned. The support was overwhelming in the best possible way. Thank you!
It also reminded me that even when I feel alone at sea I need to remember that I am not alone in the journey.
Direction Matters
To be totally honest, at this point I also know it’s logistically easier to just sail home to the United States. The race to China is short. China to South Korea is even shorter. The Pacific crossing will be long though.
Since leaving Airlie Beach, we’ve been sailing north and west — covering serious miles, but moving farther from home instead of toward it. After Tongyeong, that will change. For the first time in months, we will turn east and begin sailing toward the USA again. There’s something psychologically powerful about that shift in heading.
I also got the great news that I’ll be meeting my son and his fiance in South Korea — which makes continuing feel less like obligation and more like privilege. I miss my family and kids.
From South Korea, it’s the long Pacific stretch to Seattle. It will be cold, demanding, and likely uncomfortable. It will begin in layers and gloves, bracing against North Pacific systems. Long gray watches. Heavy weather. The kind of miles that require steady discipline rather than dramatic heroics.
And then — eventually — landfall in Seattle, I’ll be meeting my wife and a lot of family who have been following this entire journey from the race tracker and social media. After months at sea, the thought of stepping off that dock into their arms makes the cold crossing feel different. Purpose enables endurance.
Crossing the Southern Indian Ocean on leg 3 was challenging, but it never tested me mentally the way three relentless weeks of tropical heat did. So for now I’ll take cold layers and gray skies over a windless furnace any day. We will see how that thought holds up after I cross the Pacific.
The Crew
There’s another reason I’m continuing. There are some genuinely good people on this boat.
People who show up every watch. People who grind when they’re tired. People who put the team ahead of ego.
The Clipper Race is not an individual sport, no matter how individual the reflection can feel. We endure as a group and I don’t want to let them down. Walking away now would mean leaving before the job is finished.
Forward
The next miles won’t be easy. They rarely are. But some clarity has returned.
When I questioned continuing, I was thinking about pain, heat, fatigue, and doubt. Now I’m thinking about China, South Korea, and Seattle.
When I decided to continue I was also thinking about people.
My crew. My son and his fiance in South Korea. My wife and family standing on a dock in Seattle.
Onward to China. South Korea. Seattle. Onward to family.
