We arrived in Maine with a mix of excitement and curiosity. After two years on the water, we had seen our fair share of breathtaking landscapes, but nothing quite prepared us for the magic that Maine held. It wasn’t the towering cliffs or vast oceans that drew us in, but something quieter—more intimate.
Every morning, the sea became a mirror, reflecting the sky in a way that made it feel like we were floating between worlds. The water, still and glassy, stretched out beneath our boat, inviting us to sit back and just breathe. These were the kinds of moments that remind you of how small you are, but also how lucky.
Maine wasn’t just a peaceful retreat, though. It was alive in a way we hadn’t felt in a long time. Seals would playfully pop up near the boat, like old friends checking in, while deer grazed along the shore, seemingly unbothered by our presence. And the eagles—majestic, powerful, and completely at ease as they soared above us—would often rest on the mast as if they were part of our journey, too.
But nature here wasn’t all calm and friendly. The tides in Maine are like nothing we’d ever seen before. Three meters of water could disappear in hours, revealing hidden islands and treasure troves of shells. It was as if the ocean itself was offering us a playground to explore—but only for a brief moment before swallowing it all back up.
It was the fog that really caught me off guard. One morning, we woke up to find the world had disappeared. The thick, heavy mist blanketed everything in silence. It was eerie and beautiful, all at once. The fog seemed to pause time itself, leaving us alone with our thoughts. And then, when the sun finally peeked through, it felt like the world was waking up again, shaking off the weight of the mist to reveal the bright, shining day ahead.
But as much as we loved Maine’s wild and untamed beauty, there came a point when we started to crave something else—something warmer. After all, two years on the water had taught us that sometimes, it’s okay to move on, to seek new adventures. So, we packed up our memories of fog-draped mornings, seals playing in the water, and sunrises reflected on still seas, and prepared to head south.
The next chapter of our journey was calling, and with it came the promise of warmer days, dry laundry, and waters that didn’t make us shiver.
Maine had given us everything we didn’t know we needed—now it was time to follow the sun again.
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