As I close in on Australia, as I look out on the endless horizon , almost dreading the sight of land, I harken back to these last months since heading out of Panama...I am aware that an era in one man's life is ending. I try to look forward, but its the opposite that beckons. When I gaze out off my stern, I find a certain peace, a comfort of sorts. And when look out off the bow, I do so with consternation.

As with anything in life that is treasured, adored, needed...one is distraught to let it go. Now, as the final moments wind down to that point of certainty when this boat, this sea and this man will no longer exist as one, I find myself groping to immortalize, to find a way to slow the process down, to touch it one final time. What haven't I done? What haven't I filmed? Have I gazed out on this never ending vastness enough? How should I caress its exquisite face, its infinite features, feel its wildness...just one last time?

And then I am reminded of that famous french sailor Bernard Moitessier, rounding the horn of South America. When he reached that point of turning north, leaving the southern oceans behind, finally to head for home...he balked...he radioed in:...'Once more around!'. And east he went into the Indian Ocean...again.

And as I look back off my stern at the receding waters of the great Pacific, I feel comfort in having still within my grasp that exquisite....

I now understand that French sailor.