Captain’s Log: Reunited With My Floating Circus

Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, after seventy-seven long days ashore, the time has come. Tomorrow at first light, I head back to Panama—back to my fair Hold Fast, back to Shelter Bay, where the rain hammers down in sheets and the lightning cracks the sky like a drumroll for my return.

It’s been a beautiful stretch with my parents, with old friends, with air conditioning, stand-up showers, full-size beds, and the rare joy of not having to worry about batteries or bilges—like taking a vacation from listening to your boat’s organs wheeze in the middle of the night. But truth be told, I’ve been dreaming of fiberglass and teak, of creaking lines and the smell of salt on the breeze.

Tomorrow, I trade sidewalks for docklines, cars for cockpits, and grocery carts for the endless hunt for 10mm bolts. Home isn’t always a house—it can be forty-four feet of absurd, leaky, stubborn magic that somehow carries me across oceans.

Hold Fast—I’m coming back with a locker full of bits and pieces to set you ten and ten. Clear the decks and cue the squalls, because Captain Hathaway is once again reporting for duty with his floating circus.

Days Sober: 2,082