As my husband, Scott, and I departed Charleston, South Carolina, with the outgoing current, a crisp November sunrise marked our first month as full-time liveaboards. We’d worked down the East Coast from New York City on our 1983 Contest 36 and left Charleston with no destination in mind, wanting only to make progress south before jumping to Cumberland Island, Georgia.
With the bow pointed southwest, we sailed upwind in 10 steady knots on a composed close reach while lounging in the cockpit, reading, and fishing. It was the first time we experienced a feeling we would later come to relish: the lightness of setting to sea, a feeling almost like going on vacation, but better. Once we got comfortable with landmasses falling away, heavy with their burdens, we started to…