In the ocean, we planned our daily turns, decided whether we would turn in a day or two, wait for the wind to change, or first rise to a certain latitude and then turn around. And when asked to turn around, you could say, “let's do it tomorrow.” During both transitions, I had 2 eye contacts. The first night, when we were heading west, there was an stern light, and we gradually overtook the sailing ship, walking 50 meters away from the wind. The second day, when we were heading east, it was a drifting container. I spotted it from afar and thought it was a wooden raft or something. But when I got closer, I realized that if we had turned 100 meters late yesterday, we would have walked right through the container, which would change my idea of ocean safety. We reported the coordinates of the container by satellite phone, and we were told that they knew about it and now understood where it was drifting. After a few laps and even disembarked a crew member, we talked about how to flood it, but having not found a solution, we left it drifting in the ocean.

At the entrance to Gibraltar, it was like at a crossroads in central Bangkok: ships came in and out of everywhere, the AIS constantly issued warnings about possible collisions, and such proximity to the shore seemed very uncomfortable. Being in the cockpit all the time has become not only mandatory, but also an exciting process. We walked through the Mediterranean without changing our habits, laying our tacks from coast to coast, which clearly limited us; we moved closer to Africa and then we ran into Europe. After the ocean, the sea looked more like a heavily trafficked lake.

With one stop in Benalmádena and another in Malta. Now it seems that it took us just 24 hours to get from Malta. I remember Malta, Crete on the left, Rhodes on the right, and now it's my native Marmaris. And no matter how many days it took, everything was so small and close already. I walked and realized that in the coming years my transitions would be between two and six hours, and my region on the globe could be completely placed under my index finger. And this was exactly what I wanted, no open seas and oceans, no borders or customs offices, the same pontoon every day with the water hose left behind, 100 meters to the most delicious restaurant and another 20 meters to the shower room. It felt like I was ending my life as a whale and turning into a mosquito.

We walked under the engine in absolute silence on perfectly smooth water. In the strait, I sat on a tank and looked at the lights of the approaching city. I was going back to a place where my old but completely new life was waiting for me. There were no thoughts about the past or the path I had traveled; I clearly felt that I had come back to the beginning and was sketching possible scenarios for the near future in my head. My life options flickered like lights from the waterfront, and there was only one idea that united them all: I came home and this is where I have to live, this is where I get married, I will build a house and have children, this is where I will go to work in Marina, and what my job will be is up to me, and now I set my own goals and achieve them myself.

I was only 26 years old and everyone said my life hadn't started yet, but it seemed to me that I had already lived two years and was starting my third.

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