We are at sea for another night, sailing from Puerta Plata to Samana, along the northern coast of the Dominican Republic. As the sun sets, Kim and I observe quite a few logs and other items floating in the water. Kim asks the obvious question, "How are we going to dodge this stuff at night?" I answer with my typical response, "You are more likely to be stuck by lightning than for us to hit something int he middle of the night. And, even if we did hit something, it will just bounce off." What I did not share with her was my quick thoughts about waterproof bulkheads, bilge pumps (I really need to fix that one) and emergency hole patching supplies.

We are making this passage with one other boat. The seas are calm. Around10 pm we recieve a call from them over the VHF radio, they have caught something in their propeller and are dead in the water. I stop One World and wait. I can see their lights and hear bangs from across the water. After a half hour, they are back up and running. One of them had to suit up and take a swim to untangle the prop. How would you like to to dive into 3000 feet of water at night to discover whats wrapped around your prop?

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Through Facebook, I connected with an former teacher at my high school that operates a K-12 grade school in Santiago, an hour drive from Puerto Plata. Not knowing what to expect, we arrived to find one of the premier schools in the country. The Lely, Max, and Ela were paired with students in their respective classes and joined them for a few hours. Toward the end of the day, I caught up with them giving a presentation with a Q&A session to the class. Many thanks to Seth, his team, and the students at Santiago Christian School for sharing with us.

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What do you do with someone who is scared of swimming in salt water? You teach them to Scuba dive! Kim and Lely, both incredibly uncomfortable swimming and snorkeling in the ocean, decided to overcome their fear by learning to dive. They joined Max, Eddie (the instructor) and Chico (a dolphin) for a fun filled couple of hours of hugs, kisses, and even a piggyback ride!

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It is early in the morning. The winds are calm and the air is humid. All appears still. Yet, beneath the boat, the water stirs. Pressure builds as a surge passes under us, thrusting the boat forward, casuing the lines and the rigging to moan. For a second, the force reaches its maximum, then releases, allowing us to settle back into our comfort zone.

The surge reminds me of powerful ups and downs I experience with Max and Lely. Their natural calm, postive states, suddenly disrupted by tears, rage, and physical sickeness. I often forget about the huge change I have placed on them as we embark on this journey. I have turned their lives upsidedown in pursuit of this dream and it has begun to show.

On the final day of our passage from the Bahamas to the Dominican, with calm seas and sun overhead, Lely sat in the back cockpit vommiting. The stress of the passage and fear of taking her first malaria pill overwhelmed her. She sat holding her bucket for 30 minutes, unable to move or gain composure. I finally convinced her to join me at the helm, where she could have wind in her face and clear sight of the horizon. We sat there in embrace, her head resting on my chest, as she talk about the difficulty of letting go of her friends, leaving her classmates in the middle of the year, and fearing her friendships would slowly dissolve. She wants to return home, to stabilty, consistency, and comfort.

Yesterday was Max's turn. Excited about the upcoming adventure of the day, he jumped out of bed and into his studies, hoping to be done before noon. An hour later, Kim check on him. He had done nothing. In fact, he had lied about completing his math for the past few days. Caught between the lie and the fading hopes of the day's adventure, he broke into a rage. Thrashing about, he pulled us all into a state of chaos. Nothing could be done to calm him down. His rage grew to the point of caughing and sputtering. He was on the verge of vommiting. His breaths quickened. He was hyperventilating. Fear entered his eyes as lost control of his body. I held him closely, trying to calm him. 10 minutes passed before he could gain control of his breathing. He laid limp in my arms. Looking up at me, he said, "Daddy, I want to go home."

As I think about these situations, I have yet to reconcile the desires of Max and Lely with our present situation. "One World" is our home. The ocean is our platform, unstable, inconsistent, and uncomfotable. Everyday we are challenged with new obstacles, new people, and often a new langauge. Somehow, within all of this, we must find our own world of comfort, consistency, and stabilty.

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A beautiful sunrise and calm seas greeted us the final day of our passage to the Dominican Republic. We arrived at noon and tied up at the fuel dock, flying our yellow quarintine flag. Shortly after, we were boarded by the Navy, drug enforcement, and the police. Fearing the worst, I timidly presented our papers. The man in military fatigues began his thorough review our documents. The packet includes passports, boat registration, proof of insurance, radio license,and clearence out of the prevous port. The tensions eased as one of the officers took to Solomon, placing his large police badge over his head. Within 20 minutes we were done with the inspection and escorted the immigration office, more paperwork, more stamps. Next, we proceeded to customs, more paperwork, more stamps. Finally, after two hours and meeting five different agencies, we were done. Although lengthy, it was a rather benign process. We were now free to explore!

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Somewhere over the horizon is the Dominican. The seas have calmed and we are motoring along on one engine (saves gas) at 7 knots. We are traveling with one other boat, Braveheart. It is comforting to speak with them via VHF radio in the middle of the night and reassure yourself you are not alone. At sea, the darkness envelops you. Our "One World" becomes a very small world.

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