It can’t be this tough…I thought as I fiddled with the tray. Well, what would be a tray if I could figure out how to get it out of the arm rest. It was my first time in first class, and it was showing. We had spent the past week pregaming for this trip with our friends from SV Sitka and Lusty, but Sitka returned to Mexico and Lusty carried on with us to our next adventure. However, while Chris and I were on American Airlines, they were on Spirit which I refused to try again after last year’s debacle….

“Press here” Chris said, the tray then popping up. He was more well traveled than I, and that’s also showed. Shortly after champagne was in my hand and we were airborne, flying above the glistening lights of Charlotte, heading towards our final destination: Annapolis, for the annual Annapolis Boat Show.

Day 1 – Touchdown 

Bed had never felt so good. It was one of those rare moments where the exhaustion weighed down every muscle, pressing me into the mattress like I was sinking through it. Upon landing that morning, we met up with Max and Karen, standing under the flickering lights of Spirit Airlines’ baggage claim. They showed up with grins plastered on their faces, still riding the high of their Las Vegas layover—where, in true Lusty fashion, they turned $100 into $200. That’s just how it goes for them. Meanwhile, Chris and I lost $150 at the casino we visited with them back in California just a week prior. They turned $100 into $400 there. One thing we were all on the same page about was that we were starving, prompting the hunt for salvation in the form of a greasy late-night meal.

We wandered into iHop at 3 a.m., tired but in good spirits, sliding into the booths with a mix of exhaustion and relief. Breakfast, dinner, or whatever you want to call it went down easy and then finally, after what felt like a journey larger than it was, we checked into the hotel. As soon as my head hit the pillow, I fell asleep instantly—like being wrapped in a warm, welcoming blanket of rest. And though the sleep was brief, it was enough to recharge for the exciting day ahead.

As much as the bed called to me, cradling me in its fleeting warmth, the excitement of the day ahead stirred me from its embrace. It didn’t take me long to get ready, but our friends needed a little more convincing. Luckily we got out of the door on time to get some of the east coasts finest coffee. Dunk’s worked its magic, slowly lifting the fog from my mind, as we made our way to Annapolis and the waterfront where we really got our day started. 

With credentials in hand, we walked with a sense of purpose. This year felt different—better, bigger. No more YouTuber badges. Now, we stood under the banner of Cruising World/Sailing World Magazine. It felt official—I felt official. I was a writer—am a writer—and there’s something thrilling about that, something that fills me with pride. More responsibility? Sure. But more opportunity, too.

Chris and I rushed to the booth, energized by the anticipation in the air. We slipped behind the table, our tired eyes brightening with each handshake, each snapshot, as we handed out goody bags that I had packed with care. Every Avocet koozie, bottle opener, gum, hand sanitizer and cough drop was a small token, a ”thank you” to the community we were part of. Last year’s illness may have left its mark, but this year, I was determined to stay healthy, and to enjoy the whirlwind of faces and stories swirling around us.

Though I was running on just a few hours of sleep, the energy of the day carried me through. I couldn’t find the time to sit and write as I normally would, but I jotted down enough notes to capture the magic of the moments that passed. And when I finally sat down to expand on those notes a few days later, dear reader, is when the rest of the story unfolded, in short form, of course:

Max and Karen delivered our first of many Painkillers

Lusty did what Lusty does best and took care of us while we were “trapped” behind the booth. They kept us hydrated with the legendary rum Painkillers, but from the Fleet Reserve which we think are superior to Pussers recipe. 

Met Lin Pardey

After our booth time, Chris and I made it to L&L Publishing where we had the opportunity to meet the sailing legend, our friend, mentor and client Lin Pardey. She was weathering the boat show chaos better than we were, as a veteran of the event. I was able to pick up my signed copy of her new book, Passages: Cape Horn and Beyond and snap a commemorative photo. She reminded us to “take it easy” – we should have listened to her advice. 

The Green Room Boat

This year, Jeff Bach (the organizer of the Cruisers Creating Content booth) managed to put together a “green room” boat for all of us creators and VIP’s to hang out at. The boat, an Irwin 54’ named Southerly, is owned by Susan and Chris of Seas the Bay charters. They kept us fed and hydrated (with actual electrolytes) and were kind enough to share their boat with our salty crew. I managed to make a connection with Susan and offer her some marketing assistance, creating a flier for her to hang inside the boat and encourage visitors to follow them on instagram. 

Warren and Erica 

For two seasons now, we have heard Max and Karen talk highly of their friends Warren and Erica from WE|Sail so we were thrilled and a tad intimidated to meet them in person. But, just like all friends of Lusty, we felt right at home in their presence. Weird recognizes weird, and when we get together we make it a party!

Back to the house to get ready, made it to the bar. Overstimmy city.

Our first night in Annapolis baby! We made it to the bar where it was a private party/reception for the VIP’s and Content Creators. The food was great, drinks were better, and place was so packed I could barely hear myself think… so Chris and I retreated to the outside where we found our friends Mads and Ava enjoying the peace. Chris disrupted it with talks of boat work, leaving Ava and I to giggle about our boys affinity for projects. 

Home, chipotle, emails, bed

The clock clicked 1:00 am and I knew I had to go to bed. We said our goodbyes and did our best to ignore Max’s pleas to stay but heard his echo in our minds as we pulled away in our Uber. Luckily we made the right choice, which was cemented after we took showers, ate Chipotle and went to bed only to be woken up by a very drunk Max at 5:00 am – a de ja vu moment for sure. He was hurting in the morning. 

Day 2 – Award Winning Connections

“Well, isn’t this just precious,” I muttered, leaning into the cold, unforgiving stone wall, arms crossed tight against my chest. My eyes stayed fixed on the worn counter, waiting for our coffees to eventually materialize, like some half-forgotten promise. Around us, the place buzzed with the sound of busy minds—bookworms, real student types, noses buried deep in pages or glued to the glow of screens, fingers dancing over keyboards like they were in a race against time. Essays, no doubt, due in a few hours.

It was the kind of place that attracted the hipster crowd, a coffee shop-slash-bookstore where you could almost smell the pretension mixed in with the espresso. Perfect, really, for one of those moody shots on my old film camera. I suppose I wasn’t all that different from them. But the main difference? Chris and I were the only ones wearing boat show credentials.

The funny thing is, I bet most of these types would turn their noses up at the yacht life, dismissing it as some glittery, Instagram-worthy fantasy of the rich. But you, dear reader, you know better. You know it’s not always champagne and sunsets. Sometimes it’s storms and dark water… and the kind of solitude that can swallow you whole.

With my coffee warming my hand, I took one last look at the shelves as we slipped back onto the lively street. A full shelf of Stephen King’s works caught my eye, and I couldn’t help but smile, making a mental note to dive back into my half finished novel, Misery, when I returned to Runaground Ranch. 

As we wandered down toward the waterfront, I realized how familiar this place had become over the years. What had once been new and strange now felt like an old friend welcoming me back with open arms. There was comfort in that—something steady and reliable amid the chaos of life.And that’s the real beauty of the boat show, isn’t it? It’s like some kind of unspoken reunion, drawing in all us salty, like-minded souls year after year. Same place, same time—like the tides pulling us back, no matter where we’ve drifted.

“Good morning, Lin,” I said as we passed by, her smile calm and unshaken, as if the chaos of the boat show barely touched her. “Better rested?” she asked, looking fresh while we still carried the weight of the previous day. We exchanged the usual pleasantries, but I didn’t want to keep her from signing copies of her book or chatting with the growing line of fans. We had our own people to meet—the booth awaited.

Once there, we were greeted by familiar faces: Dan and Sarah from Thrive Off Grid, internet friends who had become real-life allies. They were heading down to Florida, bringing aid to communities hit hard by hurricanes Milton and Helene. Their military vehicle was packed to the brim with supplies, but they still swung by, hoping to snag donations from vendors—generators, solar panels, rechargeable batteries, anything to help. My heart swelled with pride for them, seeing how committed they were to making a difference.

Sarah wrapped me in a quick hug, then disappeared into the crowd, focused on her mission. Chris and I stayed at the booth, greeting others, but my mind wandered. I couldn’t help but think of all the ways we could use our platform to lift up the voices of those in need, or how I wanted to join their convoy and put my hands to work. There had to be more we could do.

“There you are!” A familiar voice snapped me out of my wandering thoughts, pulling me back to the present. It was Nicki Bennet from Latitude 38—sales, marketing, and the go-to for just about everything. But more importantly, she was my friend. With her usual enthusiasm, she filled me in on last weekend’s Sausalito Boat Show and asked if we’d be interested in attending next year. We caught up on our new land-life projects, both of us marveling at how busy our days had become.

Not long after, John, the editor-in-chief of Latitude 38, joined us. We chatted about upcoming publications, our ideas bouncing off one another like waves. That’s when Erin from Sailing Magazine appeared, greeting us with her ever-warm smile. Erin had been the first publisher to believe in my work, the one who bought my first piece and, in doing so, fanned the flames of my dream. Her guidance, her feedback—they always sparked something in me, something bigger than words. She had pushed me to claim the title I now wore with pride: “writer.” She and John bantered playfully, teasing about their “rival” publications before they both bid us adieu and disappeared into the crowd, fading into the ebb and flow of the boat show like so many before them. And then, for the first time that day, there was a lull.

“Good to see you,” came a familiar voice beside us. We were sharing the booth with Doc Sheddy from Vet Tails Sailing Chuffed. The last time we’d seen her and her partner, Jim, was back in Escondido, before my mental breakdown. Since then, they’ve accomplished incredible things, completing countless philanthropic veterinary projects throughout the 2023/2024 season—providing free care to over 450 animals.

We caught up for a while, grateful for the brief pause in the chaos. It was nice to connect, to share stories of their journey and the difference they were making. But soon, the next wave of people came through, eager to say hello, and the moment passed. Before we knew it, our time was up, and we were off to our next must-do: a podcast with Cruising World Magazine. 

It was a great time chatting with our new partners at Cruising World, the ones who had taken a chance on me as a consistent contributor. Chris and I shared our story—how we’d first been drawn to the sea, our plans for the future, and everything in between. We could’ve talked for hours, but time was ticking, and we had somewhere else to be.

We hurried off to meet Deb, a longtime friend of Avocet’s previous owner and now, a dear friend of ours.

“Oh, sweetie, you look exhausted,” Deb said, her voice soft with concern as she wrapped me in a hug. I couldn’t argue. The exhaustion was written all over my face, as clear as it had been in my high school photos—those late nights spent studying, weekends chasing powder on the slopes, and long days of school had left little room for rest back then. And now? Not much had changed.

“This is for you, from Colombia,” Deb said, handing me a vibrant, woven bag, its colors bright enough to pull me from the haze of fatigue. I peeked inside, and the smell of rich, coffee beans filled the air—a gift from a place so far away, yet so close, thanks to Deb and her husband, Hugh. They are kind, good-hearted people, and friends of Avocet’s previous owner, a man whose spirit still seemed to linger aboard, even after his passing. There’s something about a boat like ours—it draws people in, ties them together like lines wrapped around cleats. And in moments like these, I could feel it—the connection, the warmth, the sense that, no matter where we go, Avocet has a way of bringing us closer to those who share in her legacy. We shared stories and laughed before hugging and going separate ways again.

Chris and I were starving, so we made our way to MacGarvey’s Pub for a quick bite and a drink. As fate would have it, we ran into Ben from Out the Gate Sailing Podcast, who just so happened to be in town visiting family. The boat show magnet strikes again! It was great to catch up and share a few laughs, but soon enough, it was time to head out. The night of the Young Cruisers Awards was upon us, and we had to get ready for the evening ahead.

Dressed to impress, we loaded up the car, anticipation buzzing in the air. The Boatyard was our first stop, where we met up with Linda and Kurt from La Vida Gyypsea, friends of Max and Karen who quickly became friends of ours, too. The conversation flowed as easily as the wine, laughter mixing with the clink of glasses—another great dinner shared. But the real event was waiting.

We arrived at the Graduate Hotel, where the awards show was held, found our seats, drinks in hand, and settled in to watch the night unfold. Lin, ever the lively soul, was a presenter. On behalf of the winners—off somewhere, still chasing horizons—she accepted their award. A beautifully corked glass sphere filled with rum. Without hesitation, she took their celebratory shot, not knowing another was coming her way. Later, she’d laugh it off, telling me with a sly grin, “Can’t let the young ones have all the fun.” Age, it turns out, is just a number, and Lin wore hers like a badge of honor.

At some point, the chaos of the event faded into the background, and we slipped outside with Sarah and Dan, sharing a quiet moment before they set off toward Florida. Their journey was calling, and we wished them well, thankful for the time to finally meet face to face.

Inside, the night pressed on, and soon enough, we rounded up the gang and made our way to Armadillos—a bar that could only be described as sticky, loud, and crowded, yet somehow always the place to be. Blame Jeff Bach for that. The night stretched long, filled with dancing and me praying the DJ would hit a better track. Despite my few granted requests, most of it fell flat. Still, we danced, laughed, and made the best of it. By the time 2:00 a.m. rolled around, we were closing the place down, herding Max into the Uber like wrangling an alley cat.

Back at home, Chris, ever the resourceful one, ordered sandwiches for delivery. Max swore that sandwich saved his life. And honestly, on nights like these, who’s to say it didn’t? As I fell into bed, exhaustion pulled me under.  

Day 3 – It’s a Hang-on, not OVER.

The morning came far too soon, my scratchy throat and stuffy nose reminding me of all the things I had been trying to outrun. Yet here I was, paying the price after an evening spent dancing with the beast inside ‘Dillos—mingling with strangers from who-knows-where. Honestly, when was the last time anyone washed their hands? I rolled over, reaching for water and the cough drop that had miraculously made its way out of one of our goody bags. Clearly, no one was using the hand sanitizer we’d been handing out.

“You motherf*cker,” I muttered through gritted teeth as I slipped on my blue blocker glasses, hiding the telltale signs of exhaustion. My eyes—hungover, tired, and a little under the weather—met Jeff Bach’s gaze as he grinned and said, “Trust me, I’m hurting too.” I teased him for scheduling us so early. 11:00 a.m. after a party? Really? That should be reserved for the newbies, not the veterans like us! But in the end, there was something comforting about it all, sitting alongside Doc Sheddy and Jim, handing out goody bags to booth visitors, the camaraderie cutting through the weariness.

We met some incredible people that day, including a kind gentleman who complimented us on bringing “West Coast vibes” to the sailing world, referencing one of our videos from my hometown of Santa Cruz. He was from Hawaii and tempted us to sail his way. Chris, of course, teased me about wanting to take Avocet east. We joked that we’d flip a coin when we hit the jump-off point—let fate decide. If it went Chris’s way, we’d sail west and find our Hawaiian friend.

After wrapping up at the booth, we found Max and Karen and headed to Chik and Ruth’s for brunch with Becka and Zach from Teulu. The brunch was just what I needed—friends, laughter, and a mimosa to bring me back to life, just enough to face the next stretch of the day.

Back at the show, we made our way over to Latitudes and Attitudes, where I got to hold a copy of my latest publication, an article about Lusty on Land. It’s one of my favorite pieces, featuring some of my favorite people. Afterward, we hurried down to the waterfront, hitching a sunset cruise aboard Rumnaround—a floating picnic table, captained by our good Annapolis pals who were kind enough to invite us out for the second year in a row.

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Being on the water was exactly what we needed. The chaos of the day melted away as the sun set over Spa Creek, and for a moment, everything was still. We reminisced about a time when Chris’s brother’s boat, Prism, had anchored there. So much had changed since 2019, but as the sun dipped lower in the sky, I felt grateful to be here, in the now, with such good people and so much on the horizon. Who knows? Maybe Avocet will find her place out there soon enough.

That evening, we gathered again, this time for dinner organized by Jeff at Chesapeake Light Craft. Tired faces filled the room, voices carrying the weight of a long, wonderful day. I found myself tucked away in a quiet corner with Brittany from Parlay, reminiscing about our time in La Cruz two seasons ago. We talked about the creative process and her hard work as an editor, which I praised her for—it’s no small feat to weave stories the way she does.

After a while, we gathered for a group photo before beginning the drive home. There was a small detour to drop off Captain Glen, Colin, and Brittany, and a minor hiccup along the way, but those are the kinds of details best left to private logs—or shared over a round at the bar. After all, what happens in Annapolis, stays in Annapolis… for the most part.

Day 4 – Last Round, Last Call

I’d been waiting all year for this exact breakfast—the Farmers Benedict at Iron Rooster. Despite the hostesses being a bit on the prickly side, our waiter more than made up for it, and the food? Absolutely worth it. It was a classic benedict, but with a twist: a fried green tomato, boursin cheese, and just the right amount of salsa to give it a kick. Freaking delicious. The mimosas weren’t half bad either. Max finally emerged about an hour later, groggy but ready to tackle the day, joining Karen, Chris, and me at the table.

It was our last day at the show, and with no booth commitments, we took it easy, strolling through the exhibits and making a few last-minute connections with vendors. One of the highlights? Checking out a Garcia Yacht. Chris was impressed—thoroughly, I might add—but me? Not so much. I couldn’t get past the fact that a yacht of that caliber only had one head, and worse, it was accessible through the master stateroom. The idea of guests traipsing through our bedroom to use the bathroom? No thanks.

After our rounds at the show, we gathered with friends at The Fleet Reserve for more Painkillers and a few rounds of rummy. From there, we retraced our steps from the previous year, ending up in the exact same bar stools at the Irish pub, ordering the same food and drinks, and savoring the déjà vu. Chris had a couple of Guinnesses, paired with a couple of shots of Jameson, which led to him leaving his camera behind at the bar when we moved on to pick up provisions for our evening sail with friends. Luckily, we found it right where he’d left it. Crisis averted!

“Rigby!” I called out, as the sweet golden retriever bounded toward me, tail wagging in delight. She’s a star on our friends’ YouTube channel, and seeing her brought back memories of my late golden, Sierra. Linda led us to the dinghy to whisk us away to La Vida Gyypsea, for an evening sail around the bay. It felt so good to be on the water again, surrounded by friends, and it made me miss Avocet even more. The desire to bring her east had never been stronger.

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We wrapped up the night with a pub crawl—starting at Davis’s Pub, then onto Boatyard for dinner, where we shared our last goodbyes with friends. Afterward, we made one final stop at the SV Delos house to say goodbye to more friends. Warren had already hit the sack, but we fixed that with an impromptu dog pile. Fast friends, indeed. I couldn’t wait to see him and Erica again, but for now, it was time to head home and get some much-needed rest before our next adventure.

Day 5: Adios, Lusty

Our time with Lusty had come to an end. It had been an incredible week at Runaground Ranch, followed by a whirlwind few days in Annapolis, but the time had come to part ways. They were off to Aruba to meet up with our pals on Jubel and X-Factor, while we set our course for Boston. Originally, we had planned to visit my family, but as plans tend to do, things changed. Instead, we found ourselves in an AirBnB, using the time to recover from the show, stroll along the Freedom Trail, and grab dinner with an old college friend of mine. It was a quiet, reflective way to make our final farewell to the East Coast… at least for now.

If that coin flip goes in my favor, we may be seeing this side of the States again real soon. But before any of that, there’s work to be done on Avocet—always something to fix, tweak, or improve. But more on that in the upcoming posts. Stay tuned.