The first time I drove across the grande basin east of the San Juan Mountains it was nighttime. I knew this expanse of desert was vast, it’s just that I was not accustomed to the immense, flat, and barren being on land.

With the sunrise came coffee, and I started to say hello to this place. It was the dawn of 2020 and I was not on a boat, I was in a high alpine desert.

Corals and sea fans, free standing blooms of life amidst the white sea floor. Rooted like low bush in pale pink and white sands. All grain sized shell fragments and limestones. In the inner reefs, inside of the break, one can look across this oceanic desert swaying in the current.

Sitting in my truck bed with my trusty mug looking out over the vast expanses of beautiful low green sagebrush this barren rugged West Indian reef presented itself again. The two landscapes in their scale and starkness were so similar to my eye. I will always think of the ocean floor when I drive through south central Colorado.

2020 will be the year Frances slept and I spent less and less time on the water. I am aware of the privilege to step away and be able to step back.

The authenticity of traditional sail is perhaps the most important reason to keep this boat available to you. The hull skims across the water as the sails make their way toward the sky, the banjo picking in the stern. There is a pant of breath as crew members coil down all the line on deck. It is meant to be realized that we just did it all. And with the wind and the current we will go.

Come air yourself out this summer, come sailing. We’re doing it safely, and with a year away, we have a new energy and perspective to share.