Let’s be honest. Starting a blog feels a bit like standing at the end of a dock shouting into the fog, hoping someone hears you. But if you’re into sailing, dogs, coastal adventures, and the occasional dose of chaos, then you’ve found the right cove.

I’ve been meaning to start this for a while. I needed a place to share the quiet anchorages, the unpredictable weather systems (both onboard and off), the boat fixes that didn’t go to plan, and the simple joy of watching a collie nap in the cockpit while the world drifts by. And maybe, just maybe, it’ll help someone else navigate their own journey, whether on the water or toward it.

But first, let’s talk about how I got here. Literally.

The Boat Hunt

Buying a boat is supposed to be exciting. What it actually was? A mildly unhinged combination of detective work, disappointment, and denial.

I spent hours—more like days—in the car, chasing listings up and down Vancouver Island. I even caught a ferry over to Vancouver to look at a boat that, on paper, looked like the one. In person? More like the one that would eat your entire maintenance budget before you even left the dock. The level of TLC it needed made me want to light some sage and start over. (Catfish count: two.)

Then there was the boat I loved. Really loved. Until the we uncovered a hidden mold problem. Another I made an offer on, only to find out it had a crack in the hull. And let’s not forget the wildly overpriced listings that had clearly been photographed during a more optimistic decade.

To say I was discouraged is putting it mildly.

Then, out of nowhere, this 2001 Bavaria 40 Cruiser hit the market. It was more boat than I’d been looking for—both in size and price. My broker didn’t even mention it at first because it was well over my original budget. But the listing popped up, and curiosity got the better of me.

She was solid. Clean. Sturdy. She checked the boxes that mattered. Fergus could get onboard easily with no awkward leaps. The cockpit was fully enclosed. The cabin had proper stairs instead of a steep ladder. There was actual space to breathe, to live, to move around without tripping over each other.

I gave up things like an in-mast furling sail and an aft master cabin. But what I gained was something that felt like home.

She’s 40 feet long, five feet longer than anything I had been considering, and that made all the difference. Enough space for Fergus and I to not constantly be in each other’s way. Enough comfort to feel like this wasn’t just a floating weekend escape. This was going to be ours.

And now she is.

We’re still learning each other. I’m figuring out her systems, her quirks, her stubborn little habits. She’s figuring out that I have no idea what I’m doing half the time, but I’m willing to learn.

So that’s where this all begins.

This blog will be a mix of sailing stories, coastal wanderings, lessons learned (sometimes the hard way), and whatever else bubbles up. I’m not trying to be an expert. Just someone who said yes to the adventure and is figuring it out in real time.

Thanks for being here. More soon.

—Teresa