A lifetime at sea comes full circle—and with just over fifty days to go, the finish line is finally in sight.
Sailors have their own language for a lot of things, so for example instead of saying circumnavigation we call it tying the knot — the moment your wake crosses itself and the miles you’ve sailed around the world meet you coming back the other way.
Somewhere on this leg from Seattle to Panama, I tied mine.
It didn’t happen in a single voyage. It’s been a lifetime in the making. In the United States Navy, aboard the USS Iowa (BB-61), I sailed as far east as the Baltic Sea and as far west as the coast of El Salvador. Years later on a Clipper yacht, I left Portsmouth and sailed south to South America, then east across the Indian and Pacific Oceans to Costa Rica — just east of where I had once been off El Salvador. That’s where the line closed.
I’ve now sailed every longitude on the planet, and from the edge of the Arctic Circle at 66°33′ North latitudewhere I joined The Order of the Blue Nose down to almost 45° south in the Indian Ocean. Every ocean, connected over time into one continuous path. The moment itself was quiet. Just another watch, water sliding past the hull — and the realization that I had come full circle.
Otherwise the race from Seattle to Panama was everything I expected — long, mentally and physically demanding — but I’ll remember it for the good.
We saw sea life everywhere. Dolphins, birds, turtles, whales, and a full school of tuna moving like a single organism near the surface. One day we sailed through a superpod of dolphins that stretched as far as I could see — easily an acre or more — with some of them launching themselves clear out of the water just to show off.
For a long spell we had a bird playing king of the bowsprit by settling in and chasing all other birds off. At one point, I watched a bird hitch a ride on the back of a turtle, like it was the most normal thing in the world.
The sailing itself was almost… steady. We flew the Code 1 spinnaker for most of the race — nearly two straight weeks pulled along by the same kite with barely a gybe. It was consistent, controlled, and at times almost boring — the kind of sailing where the miles just quietly fall away beneath you.
We finished strong, taking second place into Panama.
Then for the fifth time in my life, I transited the Panama Canal — and it never gets old.
We went through the west locks rafted up behind a tanker, inching forward in its shadow. In the east locks, we shared the chamber with a beautiful three-masted tall ship from the Ecuadorian Navy. Steel, sail, and history all moving together through one of the world’s great engineering passages.
Now we’re back in the Atlantic — where this race began. It feels different this time. The circle is closed. The knot is tied but we’re not done yet.
Soon we head for Washington, DC, and then back across the Atlantic to the UK for the race finish. There are still miles to sail, watches to stand, and one last stretch of ocean ahead. Just over fifty days and the race around the world will be over.
For now though, I’ll take a moment to look back.
I followed the ocean far enough to meet myself coming the other way — and somewhere along that path, I tied the knot.
