I tugged on the line to make sure it was tight around my waist and then secured the other end to the Adventure's stern. Although all our sails were down, Adventure sill plowed forward on a 3-knot current. I made a mental note that my life insurance was paid up.

I looked carefully at the tourquoise water, slightly rippling with small waves. With only a few fluffy clouds in the sky, streaks of sunlight shot through the abys to unknown depths. We were in the middle of the Pacific ocean, 1500 miles from any form of land.

Before I plunged into the depths, Sean checked the sonar again to make sure there were no large fish under the boat. A few minutes earlier, he had doned his snokeling mask and, kneeling on the swim platform, carefully lowered his head into the water to make sure there were no lingering sharks under the boat.

Every sailor knows the 10-minute rule for swimining in the open ocean. It takes about 10 minutes before sharks in the surrounding waters will gather to investigate your intrusion.

Sean had breached the water's surface about 10 minutes before when he immersed himself by holding onto the swim ladder, so I was pushing my luck with "the rule." It was at this time that I saw through Sean's feigned bravery as he had pushed us aside to jump in first, starting the clock for the 10-minutes.

Casey kept asking how deep the water was (like it mattered), but our depth sounder can't register beyond 1,000 feet, so we couldn't tell. "Who's dumb idea is this anyways!" I said. Sean reminded me that it was my dumb idea to mark the mid-point of our Pacific crossing by jumping into the ocean. He also reminded me that, since he and the girls had already gone in, I had to too. "And," he added, "you need to hurry up! We're loosing mileage with the sails down." He hadn't been keen on my suggestion to jump into the ocean because it would lower our total mileage for the day.

It reminded me of when I was young, traveling with my grandfather on the 500-mile trip from Auburn to Los Angeles. He'd wait until our bladders were about to burst and we had tears in our eyes before he'd stop for a restroom break. We had to make good time!

Tara broke my painful remeberance."Mom, it feels like you're flying!" she yelled as she held a line for me to fasten to her waist. She'd decided she wanted to do it again. "Come on Casey, It'll be a great picture!" she said. From the safety of the cockpit, Sean smiled and held up the camera.

Casey grabbed another line and we tied her to the stern. Now who would go fist? There was a unanumous decision that Mom would. After waiting for several large clusters of fish to clear from the sonar screen, I slowly stepped onto the swim step ladder and into the deep blue. Tara couldn't wait for me to fully emerse myself and slid past me, holding onto her line. Casey came in last and then we all let go of the ladder and Adventure pulled us through the water. Excited laughter filled the air as we flew through the water and Sean snapped a few photos.

Our laughter abruptly faided as I commented on how we looked like the bait on the end of a trolling line. Casey said, "At least they have three to choose from!" This was followed by a frantic dash back to the safety of the swim step.

Yes, we can now all say that we swam in the very middle of the Pacific ocean