On June 10, the worst storm in the series swept across the middle of the Indian Ocean and Wild Eyes was directly in its path.

But none of that kept me from picturing what a tsunami might look like if it did rise up and roar toward my little boat like some watery blue version of the Great Wall of China.

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

I am twelve thousand miles wiser, twelve thousand miles more resilient, and I have twelve thousand miles more faith in God.

I'm one-hundred-fifty miles off Cape Horn, both autopilots are broken, and my boat is drifting toward one of the nastiest chunks of ocean on the face of the earth.

I wanted to break the record, of course, and become the youngest person to sail around the world solo and unassisted.

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.