In that moment it dawned on me that everything has to line up perfectly for something to turn out this awful.

Going up the mast is one of the most dangerous things you can do as a solo sailor.

It seems like people my age are over-protected today, even to the point where a lot of parents refuse to put their kids in the position to make important decisions, to aspire to great things, because they don't want to put them in a position to fail.

I knew that even if I was able to call for help, I was in a place so remote that it wasn't likely there would be anyone who could help me. And even if there were, it could take weeks.

The seriousness of my situation started to sink in, and again I fought panic. I pushed it down, but it was harder this time, like my insides were an open can of shaken soda and I was trying to keep it from bubbling up out of the top.

Wild Eyes was built for speed and I was flying down walls of water twenty and thirty feet high.

Terror ripped through me as I was falling, falling, falling toward the sea.