Travel before it became content.

When I was seventeen, I crossed the border into Mexico and came home with something I still haven’t managed to unpack.

It wasn’t a souvenir.

It wasn’t a passport stamp.

It was the quiet realization that the world was infinitely larger than the version of it I’d grown up believing was enough.

I’ve been chasing that feeling ever since.

Not countries.

Not checklists.

Not passport stamps.

That feeling.

For most of my life, travel wasn’t something you documented. It was simply how you learned who you were. There were no algorithms to satisfy, no reels to edit before sunset, and no pressure to turn every beautiful moment into something consumable. You wandered because you were curious. You stayed because a place had something left to teach you.

That is the spirit in which Between Two Seas was born.

Looking back now, I realize I’ve spent my life searching for the same thing in different forms.

Freedom.

Sometimes it looked like a crew house in Sint Maarten, where twenty somethings from every corner of the world somehow became a family around sailboats, late nights, and the promise that tomorrow’s forecast would take us somewhere new.

Sometimes it looked like a tiny apartment in New York City, where ambition filled every hour and possibility was endless.

Sometimes it was San Diego, surfing before work, sailing after work, living with roommates, and weekends on the water.

Sometimes it was standing in Shanghai, Beijing, Qingdao, or Taiwan, building businesses and navigating cultures that challenged every instinct I had, reminding me that the world is at its most rewarding precisely when it feels unfamiliar.

Those places couldn’t have been more different.

Yet each one quietly asked the same question.

What kind of life are you trying to build?

My career followed two parallel courses that rarely seemed to intersect.

One led into executive leadership, serving corporations, leading teams, traveling the world, and spending years inside boardrooms, distribution centers, and global supply chains.

The other never drifted far from the sea.

Professional sailing.

Shipyards.

Ocean crossings.

America’s Cup campaigns.

Superyachts.

Marinas that somehow felt more like home than airports ever did.

For years I believed those two lives existed in tension with one another.

Today I think they were always leading me here.

Eventually life became less about where I wanted to travel and more about where I wanted to wake up every morning.

My wife, Jenny, and I found ourselves asking different questions.

Not how much house we wanted.

Not what the next promotion looked like.

But what kind of childhood we hoped Coco would remember.

What kind of mornings we wanted to share.

What kind of conversations we hoped would fill our dinner table.

Those questions led us to Mallorca.

Not because it promised an easier life.

It hasn’t.

We still work hard.

We’re building businesses, managing responsibilities, writing, sailing, and chasing ideas that excite us.

But somewhere along the way we stopped building a life that always pointed toward tomorrow.

We started paying attention to today.

These days you’ll usually find me somewhere in Palma.

Walking to the bakery.

Dropping off or picking up Coco from school.

Sitting quietly in a café with a cup of coffee.

Running along the waterfront.

Sailing just about every day.

Occasionally checking into a hotel five minutes from home, simply to remind myself why we chose this place in the first place.

We still play tourist in our own city.

Not because we’re looking for somewhere else to be.

Because gratitude has a funny way of deepening when you occasionally see your everyday life through the eyes of someone who’s only here for a week.

That, more than anything, is what Between Two Seas is about.

Not travel.

Not even Mallorca.

It’s about the places that quietly change us.

The lives we choose because of them.

And the moments that remind us to slow down long enough to notice.

You’ll find essays here.

Notebook.

Practical guides for anyone hoping to build a similar life.

Stories from the sea.

Stories from places that have stayed with me long after I left.

And, I hope, a few reminders that there are still corners of the world where life is measured a little differently.

Where conversations last longer than meetings.

Where history lives beneath your feet.

Where mornings begin with church bells instead of notifications.

Where home becomes somewhere you’re genuinely excited to return to.

If these pages encourage you to travel more thoughtfully, notice your own surroundings a little more closely, or imagine a different kind of life for yourself, then they’ve done exactly what I hoped they would.

Thank you for being here.

I hope you’ll stay awhile.

There’s still a long way to go, and I’d be honored to have you along for the journey.

Written from Palma, Mallorca.