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Year Three: A Review

Mid-Atlantic and moving east into the rising sun.

The third year of our voyage is complete!

Sundance on the hard in Lymington, England towering over a right-side drive English car.
The white dots are the breadcrumbs from our total voyage. The stretch from The Bahamas to Germany was the year-3 portion.

Headlines

Frequent visitors
Totally becalmed 300 miles west of The Azores. We floated here going nowhere for a few days.
Flores in The Azores at dawn. Land Ho! Europe!!

Flores. You never forget your first Azorean Island.
Making new friends in Flores
Up on the hillside in Flores
They say it’s bad luck to sail out of Horta without first leaving your mark on the seawall. Photo Credit: Susan Burlingame
Sailing friends in Horta. Photo Credit: Robert Bruegel

Hugh Town, Isle of Scilly

Cornwall
Falmouth
Dartmouth
Sailing past The Needles and into The Solent. Can you see the polar bear on the Isle of Wight?

Sri Lanka

Amsterdam Marina
Canal side living in Leeuwarden, Netherlands.

A few statistics from the past 12 months:

North America to Europe at walking speed

Doing laundry in Horta

Takeaways

Our Atlantic crossing skewed our statistics one way, while traveling off the boat skewed the statistics in a different way. We spent far fewer nights on the boat in year 3 of our voyage, but we packed in a lot of sailing during our limited time aboard.

Year Three Breakdowns:

For a 33-year-old boat Sundance continues to hold up exceptionally well, but we did have a few failures:

Season 3 Boat Projects:

Reflections:

Chris:

Crossing the ocean was immensely satisfying. It was rewarding too, day after day of a zen mindset and the simplest possible living. The sort of calm an amoeba must enjoy.

Worst Day: Wednesday, October 23. My dad, David Birch, died on this day. Our sailing voyage has been and continues to be the adventure of a lifetime, but there are some downsides to this lifestyle. First and foremost is separation from friends and family back home. Fortunately, when my dad’s health was failing, we were able to get back to New England in time, and we were with him at the end.

Best Day: Thursday, June 20: We arrived into the westernmost point in Europe, Flores, Azores, after 13 plus days at sea. Hard to top that experience. Finally getting our feet on dry land, we staggered up the hill on out-of-practice-legs and found a picnic bench at the Club Naval high above the harbor. The place was filled with sailors, all of whom had just completed crossings consisting of weeks at sea like we had. Swapping sailing stories with these new friends while drinking 1 euro Sagres beers is the moment I’ll remember most fondly from the summer. (The compulsory beer at Peter’s Cafe Sport in Horta the next week wasn’t half bad either.) Read more about our time in the Azores in a feature story I wrote for the October 2025 issue of SAIL Magazine: Click this link.

A classic tattoo to commemorate our Atlantic crossing.

Alex:

It was a very different kind of year! We crossed that ocean, and it sure felt like an accomplishment. Then we had all this time off the boat, which was a rich tapestry of joy, seeing family and friends, hard things (David’s death), and travel to Sri Lanka, which I’m not really allowed to talk about it here. Suffice it to say, that chapter was one of the richest in my life. So.

Worst Day: Leaving Lymington, with Sundance on her stilts, all packed away for the winter. As Chris has noted, we took this extended break from the boat purposefully, but I didn’t feel particularly eager to get off the boat. Turns out I like living this way. I was of course, excited to see all our people but also keenly aware that we were headed back for hard times, given Chris’ father’s health at the time.

Best Day: I’d have to agree with Chris on the best day, though I might expand it to say any day in Flores. Arriving into this tiny island in the Atlantic was indeed a milestone, and I couldn’t have imagined the series of delights that awaited onshore. We got to know other sailors, we developed friendships with the harbor crew and the staff at the nearby restaurant, O Arruda, where we spent many hours using the wifi, watching the people come through and eating the simple and delicious food of this island. We hiked and hiked and hiked; we toured the small towns dotted across Flores. The thing about this sort of journeying that never fails to surprise and comfort me, is that we can venture into new and interesting places in this big world, and then at night, return to our home. In Flores that meant a cozy spot along the wall, with it’s steep cliffs off to our port side, and the crazy song of the Corey Shearwaters lulling us to sleep. Magic.

A tattoo of the White Tailed Tropicbird that guided us into Bermuda to commemorate our Atlantic crossing.

What’s next?

Scandinavia. Stay tuned…

Onwards.

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