⚓ Charting Love: Sarah & Ed’s Nautical Journey
00°00′ · Departure · Log of a Marriage at Sea
Charting Love
Sarah & Ed
Two people, one chart, and every sea between here and the far side of tomorrow.
51°N 001°W · Listen
We Haven’t Been Everywhere. It’s On the List.
Put it in your ear and go for a walk. Some stories travel better by sound — the way a story used to arrive, from one voice to one listener, with the miles doing the rest.
Charting Love: Sarah & Ed’s Nautical Journey
“Charting Love” — available in full as an audiobook on Amazon.
20°N 000° · The Chart
Our Global Journey
From Alaska’s Inside Passage to the far side of tomorrow. Every pin is a place that rearranged some furniture in our heads. Tap one. Read what it cost, and what it gave.
Interactive Global Journey Map · Tap markers to explore our ports of call
Various · The Album
Travel Gallery
Not a highlight reel. A logbook. Some of these were paradise. Some were just weather. All of them changed the crew.
Underway · The Wake
Notes From the Passage
Blogging is literature on the fast track—writing without the paperwork, amplified by visuals, shaped by digital storytellers.
Chart your own course through the tides of possibility.
Embark on the ultimate world cruise—charting horizons, collecting stories, living the journey.
Build the future you’ll thank yourself for—create your YOUniverse, not someone else’s dream.
180°00′ · The Dateline
The Future is Here, but Not Everywhere
Somewhere between here and elsewhere there is a line on the water you cannot see. Cross it going west and you lose a day you never spend. Cross it going east and the day comes back, handed to you like change you didn’t earn. The International Dateline is a strange and magical place where time bends and reality shifts. Standing at the edge of tomorrow while yesterday lingers just behind, we find ourselves in a unique position to reflect on the nature of time itself and our journey through it.
I learned this the hard way, in places where clarity was life or death and a clock meant nothing. Time is not a number on a wall. It is a current. Some days it carries you. Some days you swim. Either way, you are moving — and where you point matters more than how fast you go.
A Morning Ritual
Mornings begin with coffee and a jog around the deck, watching the sun paint the horizon in shades of gold and pink. There’s something profoundly peaceful about starting each day surrounded by endless ocean, where the rhythm of the waves sets the pace for everything that follows. When you slow down, the world stops shouting. The ship keeps its own hours. Learn to keep them too, and you stop asking the day for permission.
The dog understood this before I did. Skyelark never once checked the time. She read the wind, the light, the smell of the galley, and lived exactly there. Animals are mirrors. They show you what you haven’t fully felt.
Monochronic living: Doing one thing at a time, focusing deeply on each moment and experience as it unfolds.
Polychronic living: Juggling multiple experiences and adapting to the constant changes that life at sea brings.
A life needs both, and the sea teaches you which one to reach for. Ashore, we are sold the second and starved of the first. Out here the balance rights itself. You do one thing. You do it fully. Then the next thing comes, and you are already standing where it lands.
The Persistence of Time
Dalí captured this paradox perfectly in his melting clocks—time becomes fluid when you’re living between time zones, crossing date lines, and experiencing the world from the unique perspective of a traveler who calls the ocean home. The clock on the cabin wall is a suggestion. The horizon is the only timekeeper that never argues, and it keeps the same hours in every language.
Travel rearranges the furniture in your head. Every border you cross — the ones on maps and the ones inside you — teaches you something about the next. And the quiet lesson under all of it is this: time is not given to you. It is chosen. That is the whole trade of the time millionaire. You stop counting hours and start spending attention, because presence is the only currency the ocean will accept.
What kind of vacation would you choose if you knew you wouldn’t remember it?
It is not a riddle. It is a compass. Answer it honestly and you will know exactly how you want to live — at sea, ashore, or somewhere on the line between the two, where the future is already here, but not yet everywhere.