As we departed Charleston, South Carolina, it felt like a hard-earned victory.
After weeks of projects, repairs, upgrades, and long days in the boatyard, Salt & Light was finally back in the water and ready for the next chapter. Our plan was simple: sail north to Topsail, North Carolina, and drop our daughters off at a week-long marine ecology camp they had been eagerly anticipating.
For the first time in weeks, life aboard began to feel normal again.
We had spent nearly two weeks on dry land while the boat was hauled out, living between a hotel and a weekend stay with Jackie’s parents. Returning to the boat felt like coming home.
Six hours after departure, the shoreline faded behind us.
Three hours later, another chapter began.
Somewhere in the darkness of the Atlantic, we lost our second dinghy.
Jackie and I watched helplessly as it disappeared into the night. There was no safe way to recover it. We had to keep moving.
Looking back, I know the mistake was mine. I had secured the dinghy using straps with S-hooks that were not fully locked in place. Combined with the inflatable tubes losing pressure, the dinghy eventually worked itself free from the davits.
Just like that, it was gone.
The ocean doesn’t pause to let you process your losses.
Nearly twelve hours from land, our world had suddenly changed again. We pushed our disappointment aside and focused on what mattered most—our safety and getting Salt & Light to our destination.
Twelve hours later…
As the sun began to set on Sunday evening, we glided peacefully into the Intracoastal Waterway. Dolphins surfaced around us. Fishing boats crossed our path. The water was calm.
It was a beautiful ending to a difficult passage.
Instead of continuing to Topsail, we altered our course and anchored in Wrightsville Beach. Without a dinghy, we needed access to resources, stores, and transportation. Wrightsville offered what Topsail could not.
The next day, a generous family helped get us ashore. We were deeply grateful.
Then the search began.
I spent hours looking for replacement dinghies. Used. New. Inflatable. Rigid. Anything that might work.
At first, I settled for a temporary solution from West Marine along with a small electric outboard from Dick’s Sporting Goods. It got me back and forth between shore and boat, but only barely.
The dinghy was advertised for three people.
In reality, it felt safe for one.
Meanwhile, Jackie and the girls moved into an Airbnb near Topsail so the kids could attend marine ecology camp. Every morning they headed off to camp, and every afternoon they returned bursting with stories about what they had learned.
We made it in time.
That alone felt like a victory.
The girls loved every minute of it. After camp each day, they spent hours swimming, exploring, and enjoying their summer adventure. We even searched for bikes for them, though we had no luck. Jackie eventually rented bikes instead.
While they were making memories, I remained aboard Salt & Light with our dog, sorting through boat logistics and continuing the hunt for a better dinghy.
No luck.
Until Tuesday.
That was the day I finally decided I was finished with inflatable dinghies.
After losing two of them, I wanted something different.
Something solid.
Something dependable.
That’s when I found it: an Aspen Power Cat equipped with a 20-horsepower motor, a folding steering console, and seating for the whole family. It was exactly what we needed.
There was only one problem.
It was located in Fort Lauderdale, Florida.
Of course it was.
Still, I placed a deposit and immediately began coordinating shipping arrangements to get it delivered to the Wrightsville Beach area.
Another piece of the puzzle had fallen into place.
As the week continued, I realized how much I missed my family. Being separated because of the dinghy situation wasn’t part of the plan. The boat felt unusually quiet.
On Father’s Day, I spent several hours kayaking around Wrightsville Beach, exploring the waterways and reflecting on everything that had happened.
Victory.
Loss.
Unexpected detours.
New opportunities.
The story seemed determined to keep turning the page before we were ready.
Soon, Jackie and the girls would leave for North Carolina again to attend Vacation Bible School near her parents’ home, while I remained behind to wait for the arrival of our new dinghy.
Another week.
Another chapter.
Another unexpected turn in the tale.
Through all of it, God has remained faithful.
Not everything has gone according to our plans. In fact, very little has.
Yet somehow, every setback has opened a different door. Every detour has led to a new story. Every challenge has reminded us that this journey was never really about boats, destinations, or even sailing.
It has always been about learning to trust Him.
And so the tale continues…
