When your friend asks you to spend a winter with him, living on his 27ft Bristol and sailing through the Grenadine Islands in the Southern Caribbean, it doesn’t matter if you’ve barely paddled a canoe and an irrational fear of sharks keeps you out of most lakes. The answer to the question is yes.
So a month later, when you find yourself in the middle of the Atlantic with no land in sight, 50 nautical miles from where you started, heading into 13-knot winds and an approaching rainstorm, you might be clinging to the safety lines and trying not to vomit again. Your brain might feel like it’s bouncing around in an empty PBR can. Peering down into the cabin for escape might feel like peering down into the satanic depths of your own personal K-hole.