After spending a wonderful month catching up with friends and family in January, we departed Greenville and returned to Remedy, which was tucked away at a marina in Beaufort, NC. Excited to spend another season in the Bahamas, we made our way to Charleston, SC, where we anchored next to the USS Yorktown for 24 hours. Upon arrival, Ken attempted to take a shower, but a water line broke, and began dumping all our fresh water into the linen closet. There is truly never a dull moment on a boat—there is always something to fix. (Oddly enough, as I write this, Ken is attempting to fix a broken toilet that is leaking seawater all over our bathroom floor!)

“Sometimes after a long day of travel, all you want is a shower. And since boats do not carry unlimited hot water, a good shower can be priceless. Arriving in Charleston, all I wanted was a shower and to enjoy the sunset with a beer. No sooner had I lathered shampoo all over my hair, face, and head — POP!! The water stopped, and I heard a psssss at my feet. In the bottom of the linen closet built into the shower bay, running water could be heard. I yelled for Chrystie to turn off the water pump. It was a relatively easy and quick fix. A hose connection had come apart and needed refitting and the clamps retightening. But there I knelt, working on my knees, wiping tea tree shampoo from my eyes, doing a boat repair while as bare as could be in my birthday suit.” - Ken

The next day, we sailed to Fernandina Beach, Florida, and then traveled via the Intracoastal Waterway to West Palm Beach, as there was no good weather window for sailing offshore for quite some time. We were excited to arrive back in West Palm and go ashore for a walk. As we were looking for a spot to anchor, however, we struck bottom on an unmarked object. After trying to pull ourselves free with a halyard and our dinghy, we resigned ourselves to waiting until the tide rose and floated us off. We spent several hours tilted at a 30-degree angle until around midnight, when we finally came free and found a new spot to anchor.

Hard aground for six hours on an unmarked cement object in West Palm Beach anchorage.

The next day, another boat came through the anchorage and headed toward the same spot where we had grounded. We attempted to warn them by radio, but they too struck the object and found themselves stuck for the better part of a day. As I said, there is never a dull moment.

Ken had to fly out for work for a week, which happened to coincide with a strong wind event. I stayed aboard Remedy to keep an eye on things until he returned.

While anchored in West Palm waiting for a weather window to cross, we met the owners of another Taswell 43 named Heartstring. Scott, his wife Jennifer, and their eleven-year-old daughter Alyssa were making their first crossing to the Bahamas, so we decided to buddy boat and cross together. When we finally got a good weather window, the two sister ships sailed 24 hours nonstop from West Palm Beach to Great Harbor Cay in the Berry Islands.

Our sister ship, another Taswell 43, named Heartstring

Little did we know that we would spend almost our entire three months in the Bahamas with Heartstring. Scott, Jennifer, and Alyssa quickly became like family. We spent our days fishing, snorkeling, and exploring, and our evenings sharing meals, playing games, and watching sunsets. One of my favorite parts of our time there was watching Alyssa learn to do things scared. It was her first experience snorkeling in the open ocean, and she was intensely afraid. But she was a champ, braving the water even when she knew barracuda or sharks were in the area.

We had a fantastic sail into the southern Berries, where we once again had to find safe harbor to wait out a three-day blow. Thankfully, we were tucked away in a comfortable spot and still managed to explore a little. The highlight was collecting fresh conch and watching the guys attempt to clean them. Though they made quite a mess, we managed to get enough to make a delicious conch salad!

We departed the Berries one evening around sunset, bound for the Exumas. As we were leaving the anchorage, we noticed a fireball in the sky. We frequently checked for Starlink launches but saw nothing on the schedule, and for a while, we wondered if it was a meteor. Eventually, we realized we were watching a Starlink rocket explode, its fiery debris falling into the ocean.

As usual, the Exumas offered abundant beauty to explore—both on land and underwater. Whenever we went snorkeling, Ken and Scott always had their Hawaiian sling spears in hand, ready to nab dinner.

Ken with his fresh Hogfish catch. One of the best pieces of fish we have ever eaten!

With another wind event forecasted, we sought shelter at Bell Island. One day while we were there, we went out snorkeling and fishing, and as we were returning to the anchorage, a passerby in a dinghy told us a dolphin was hanging around. I have always wanted to swim with a dolphin, so I hurriedly put my snorkeling gear back on. Ken pulled the dinghy close, and I jumped in. At first, the dolphin seemed uninterested in me, but Ken suggested that the more playfully I swam and mimicked his movements, the more curious he would become. So I did—and sure enough, he began playing, nibbling at my fins and swimming all around me. Eventually, Ken jumped in, and then Scott, Jennifer, and Alyssa pulled up and joined us.

For the next hour, we dove, corkscrewed, chased, and were chased by our dolphin friend. Ken was clearly the dolphin's favorite playmate—and for anyone who knows Ken, that will come as no surprise. When a new group of people arrived to play, we decided to head back to Remedy and let them have their turn. But as we motored back in the dinghy, our dolphin friend raced furiously ahead, flipped onto his back, passed beneath the dinghy, gave it a bump, and flashed us what looked like a smile. We tell ourselves it was his way of saying, "Hey guys, I had fun—thanks for playing!"

Me (in shorty wetsuit and red fins) and Ken without shirt in turquoise swim trunks, swimming with dolphin at Bell Island in the Exumas in 2025)

With the wind event behind us, we made our way to Staniel Cay, where Ken's brother Andrew and our niece Claire were joining us for ten days to celebrate her 16th birthday. One of my favorite things about this lifestyle is getting to share it with the people we love. We played games, watched movies, ate great meals, and took in amazing sights—including a ten-foot hammerhead shark that Ken and Andrew watched chase its dinner as they returned from a fishing expedition.

Ken’s brother, Andrew, and our niece Claire somewhere in the Bahamas.

Claire with the pigs on Staniel Cay, Exumas

Andrew enjoying the best seat in the house!

As their visit drew to a close, we set off for Georgetown, where they would catch a flight home. Ken also flew back to Greenville for work for a week, and I enjoyed a little introvert time. While we were there, a solo sailor anchored nearby came over to introduce himself. Oddly enough, Ken recognized him from Beaufort, where he had briefly caught the man's lines as he came to the dock. Ron quickly became part of our crew, joining Heartstring and us for beach volleyball, card games, and shared meals.

It was an unexpected joy to share our common bond of faith in Jesus with both the Heartstring crew and Ron from Old Hand! Ron had been a widow for almost a year when we met him. He and his wife had fostered over 150 babies during their marriage! And, whenever we would go out for dinner somewhere, Alyssa (also known as Sweet Pea) would get the server’s attention and, in the sweetest voice, say, “Excuse me. Is there any way I can pray for you?” It was so fun to watch surprise, and then gratitude register on the server’s face as they realized what Alyssa was asking. In every instance, they were thankful and asked Alyssa to pray for everything from health issues to financial stability. And our meal times were always full of good-hearted joking, as well as tender moments. That time was such a gift!

Left to Right: Ken, Ron (Old Hand), Jennifer, Scott, and Alyssa (Heartstring) and Me aboard Remedy for game night!

Ready for the next adventure, our three boats set off for Cat Island. The southern part of Cat Island offers little protection from wind and waves, so calm weather was essential. Thankfully, we had a good window and went for it.

Cat Island was a new stop for us, and we were eager to see what it had in store. It has an extensive reef system that we were excited to fish and explore, and it did not disappoint. I was growing more confident in the water and had finally learned to clear my ears, which allowed me to dive deeper.

Heartstring and Old Hand at anchor in Cat Island, Bahamas.

The elaborate reef walls felt like an underwater city. Their sheer scale made it impossible to grow bored. Ken and Scott were spearfishing while I snorkeled about 50 feet away, when I heard the familiar thud of the sling releasing. Ken had caught a fish. I turned to see him 25 feet down, swimming to the surface with a Nassau grouper in hand—and a six-foot blacktip reef shark circling wildly just beneath his feet.

Scott, Jennifer, and Alyssa were in their dinghy about 50 feet away when I surfaced to alert Ken that a shark was eyeing an easy meal. The moment I shouted "Shark!" I put my face back in the water—just in time to see our determined visitor swimming directly at me, and fast. I extended my GoPro pole as far as I could and swam toward him in an attempt to fend him off. Each time I advanced, he would drop back; each time I retreated, he would advance again. All the while, I was slowly swimming backward, trying to make my way to the dinghy without taking my eyes off him.

Meanwhile, poor Alyssa was watching the whole thing from the dinghy. She knew I had told her never to turn her back on a shark and that she should always swim backward slowly if one was coming at her. As she watched me, she was visibly worried, repeating to her parents, "She's swimming backward! She's swimming backward!"

Eventually, the shark lost interest and disappeared, and I was able to climb safely back into the dinghy. Ken, however, still tells people that I tried to attack a shark with a GoPro. Sadly, I didn't capture any of it on film.

While at Cat Island, we all had dinner at Sweet Tambrin, a restaurant owned and operated by the lovely Daisy Mae. The food and service were wonderful. When we mentioned that we were planning to attend church that Sunday, Daisy Mae offered to drive us. So that Sunday, we dinghied to shore and caught a ride with Daisy Mae and her mother.

Dinner at Sweet Tambrin, owner Daisy Mae

With Daisy Mae and her mother on our way to church in Cat Island.

Cat Island has four or five Anglican churches, all served by the same rector. The following Sunday was Easter, and the service was to be held at a church at the northern tip of the island, so Ken and I pulled anchor and headed there. We were the only boat in the anchorage that day, surrounded by beautiful blue water, white sand beaches, and a crisp white church ashore. That night, however, was rough. The anchorage was terribly rolly, and we got little sleep. Bleary-eyed as we were, we were glad we made it to the Easter service.

As beautiful as it was, we were ready to find a more comfortable spot. We made one short stop at a convenience store beside the church to grab whatever fresh provisions we could find before heading back to the boat. At the checkout, we mentioned that we were the sole boat in the anchorage. The three people behind the counter exchanged glances—looking at us, then at each other—before one woman said, "You are boaters? You don't look like boaters. Boating does something to you guys," waving her hands and making a wild expression. And she's not wrong. But thankfully, that day we were a little more presentable.

Remedy out on anchor in front of the church on Cat Island on Easter morning.

The Church we attended on Easter morning.

From Cat Island, we set off on an overnight sail and entered the Abacos just before daybreak. When we arrived in Marsh Harbor, we were able to spend time with friends from Greenville who also live aboard their boat part-time.

We island-hopped through the Abacos, stopping along the way to snorkel and fish. At one island, Ken landed a good-sized hogfish and a black grouper—but once an eight-foot bull shark made his third pass around us, we decided it was time to go.

Another good haul: one hogfish and one black grouper.

Our time in the Bahamas had drawn to a close, and we were ready to make our way back to the States to explore Maine. We set off on a 600-mile sail from Green Turtle Cay to Beaufort, NC—the longest non-stop passage we had made with just the two of us aboard.

We love Beaufort. It is a quaint coastal town with water that is neither the murky brown of the Intracoastal Waterway nor the deep blue of the open ocean, but a clean, pleasant bluish-green. And, apart from Spill the Beans in Greenville, SC, Beaufort Creamery serves the best ice cream we've had on the East Coast.

Our dear friends—more like family—Mia and LJ were docked in Beaufort, so we were excited to spend time with them as well. While we were there, the Greenville friends we had connected with in Marsh Harbor were making their way north, attempting to round Cape Hatteras, when a series of problems left them adrift in a storm without steering, 60 miles offshore, for nearly 24 hours. When the storm finally passed, a towing company reached them safely and brought them into Beaufort. We waved from the deck of Remedy as the towboat brought them in, welcoming them into safe harbor.

For the next two weeks, we had two sets of friends to enjoy before it was time to make the jump north. Ken used the time to tackle a few more repairs and engine work—boats, after all, are always in some state of decay. As a friend once put it, "If you listen quietly, you can hear something breaking."

Eventually, a good weather window opened for us to sail around Hatteras and on to Norfolk, VA. The notorious Cape Hatteras—famous for its treacherous conditions—was actually a fantastic sail. But as we rounded into Norfolk, the forecast of light, pleasant winds proved wrong. We faced a steady 30 knots on the bow, straight into the current, and pounded upwind for hours before finally reaching our anchorage at dusk. Exhausted and relieved, we were ready to drop the anchor and go to bed—but just as I began to let it go, every light on the boat went out. We were completely dark.

There is nothing quite like an electrical failure at the end of a brutal day of beating into wind and waves to crush your morale. Fortunately, Ken quickly diagnosed the problem and rigged a temporary fix to get us operational again while he sourced the parts needed for a full repair. The next morning, we moved Remedy into a marina, where she would stay for a few weeks while we returned to Greenville to visit friends and family.

Whether grounding in West Palm to losing power at dusk in Norfolk, this season was everything life on the water promises—unpredictable, humbling, breathtaking, and full of adventure.