This first shot is day two or three, Mike Bergin and I on deck, sailing with four sails up 600 nautical miles full of nothing but dolphins and horizons from Aruba to Panama.

We often dragged a fishing line in the water behind us, pulling tuna and mahi mahi from the ocean and tossing it straight onto the BBQ.

This is one of the tiny islands in the Coco Bandera Cay in the San Blas Islands. We anchored and spent a few days here while waiting for our transit date through the Panama Canal.

This is also the scene of one of the two greatest adventures of the trip, when Captain Dan, David and I took the 8′ dingy out beyond the reef to dive and hopefully spear some big fish.

Instead of catching anything, though, the ocean caught us. As we crossed back over the reef, the swells had grown larger and our one slot where the waves hadn’t been breaking when we left was no longer clear. We simply couldn’t get the 4.5 horsepower outboard motor to get the boat up on plane with three guys and the dive compressor in the boat.

As a result, a wave broke over the transom just as the bow was digging into the trough and we flipped end over end. I got the whole thing on video, which is a fun memory to review, even though we got a few minor cuts and bruises from the coral and lost almost all our skin diving gear.

There’s my foot (one of three times I wore shoes in five weeks) at the top of the mast where Greg had hoisted me with an electric winch to try to fix the wind vane.

At least the water was flat. We’re at anchor here at the Panama Canal Yacht Club in Colon, at the north (Caribbean) end of the canal.

In hindsight, I should have climbed the mast so much more. What a spectacular view!

This shot shows me with David, Greg and one of the Swiss girls we brought through the Canal on the Papa II. Great company! Great times. I miss it.

The night before had a period of intense showers while we BBQed on the grill, followed by a peaceful night of chatting on deck and sleeping until the howler monkeys began their strange screams just before dawn. Just before heading to bed, I heard what must have been a crocodile splashing into the lake a hundred feet from where we had been diving and swimming a few hours earlier.

This shot shows Brad sitting at the pulpit at sunset, at least a hundred miles from land, with nothing but the boat, the dolphins, the red sun, and gentle swells.

Alas, this serenity would not last. 45 minutes after my watch ended that night, the winds began. They blew for six hours at over 30 knots, then rose to 50 knots – double what our sat-phone weather map had predicted a day earlier.

Several times, as a 15′ swell caught the boat just right, the Papa II heeled nearly completely sideways. I remember sitting at the helm and watching the inclinometer peg at 45 degrees about half way through the tip, and the lifeline disappear below the water as we cooked along at 10 knots with barely any sail out.

After two hours of force 7 winds, and just as the sky began to turn light to the starboard quarter, I noticed the wind direction clock about two degrees around behind us and I knew the worst was over. Brad and Captain Dan went below and I kept watch for the final six hours of now-tame-seeming 30 knot winds.

Several days later we had finally caught up on our sleep and eating habits and I took the final watch as we sailed up the Mexican coast and into Acapulco Bay. I checked the radar and GPS periodically, watching out for freighters and bumping the autopilot a few degrees at a time toward land.

Lights from shore shimmered on the dark water. Bright stars lit the moonless sky. Dolphins occasionally shot toward the bow like torpedoes, glowing white as phosphorescent algae lit up with their passing. A pelican glided along just above the bow, barely visible in the darkness as I stood there, rocking slowly with the swells – a feeling that had become perfectly comfortable and calming during the 2,500 mile trip.

My 5-week stint as first mate was about to end. I felt immensely satisfied.

“Congratulations, Captain. Another port,” I told Dan after we dropped anchor at the Acapulco Yacht Club. “Couldn’t have done it without you, mate,” he replied. We shook hands, shut down the instruments, and went below.

Trip of a lifetime!