At 03:00 sharp, the mooring ball decided to audition for a percussion solo, loudly banging against Koko’s hull. So much for a peaceful night. I climbed outside and shuffled forward in my pyjamas, wind slapping me awake better than any espresso. I found Koko jammed straight against her mooring lines like a dancer caught mid-spin….

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Today’s Mission Impossible—and we chose to accept it—was to check out the latest ice cream place Bob had recommended when he learned we’d be stopping in Cambridge. Only snag? Bob’s geography is a bit loose. The ice cream shop he recommended is in Oxford. Not the one in England, but the one tucked into the…

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The snowbirds are on the move. You can tell. It’s early October, a regular Friday, barely a whisper of wind, and yet the water’s busy like it’s a Saturday in July. We were tucked away in our quiet corner of Sellman Creek, just us and the ospreys, but peek around the little island to the…

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We woke up to sunshine so bright it felt like the boat had drifted into a postcard overnight. No need for long debates or breakfast. Today was a sailing day, and we were already halfway packed in our heads. Quick showers, a bit of rummaging to change Koko from marina mode into sailing mode, and…

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