How Sailing Around the World Turns Your Life into a Science Experiment
Our best adventures come from testing our own theories
We’ve finally arrived!
I wrote the essay below while sailing up the American east coast on our first ever open-ocean voyage from Cape May to New York City.
We’re heading into Manhattan in the next couple days, and I’ll give you all the updates — including the story of our epic 3-day journey up here — during my regularly scheduled Logbook this weekend.
We’re now anchored in a small beach town across the water from Manhattan called Atlantic Highlands, New Jersey. We scored some free showers. We’ve already spotted an ice cream shop that makes homemade batches. And we’ve stumbled upon a movie theater within walking distance called Smodcastle Cinemas, where we’re catching a $7 movie later today!
If you’re a film lover like me, you’ll know the famous indie director Kevin Smith (Clerks, Mallrats, Chasing Amy, Jay & Silent Bob Strike Back, etc.). Smith does a monthly Q&A at Smodcastle and it’s where he filmed his most recent flick called The 4:30 Movie. I haven’t seen the latest one yet, and I’ve seen it has mixed reviews, but if you have any intel, let me know.
Today at Smodcastle, we’re seeing Weapons from the director who made the 2022 masterpiece Barbarian. This will be my first in-theater film experience in many months. I’m so excited to watch a film on something other than my iPad!
I hope you enjoy my essay for all subscribers below!
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NOW:
How Sailing Around the World Turns Your Life into a Science Experiment
Our best adventures come from testing our own theories
The first time I experienced the wind send our mast in the water and it felt like we would capsize our small sailboat, it showed me I was no longer always in charge. When I encountered waves that were so rough and thunder and lightning so loud that it felt like our floating home could soon crumble apart, I thought I may have been in over my head.
I wondered, “How did anyone figure out how to explore the world’s oceans indefinitely and thrive?”
For 10 years, I studied science and then earned a PhD in biomedical research. But I wasn’t just interested in memorizing facts. I didn’t choose the topic for my doctoral thesis because I cared about intricate disease pathways in the body that much. I did all of it so that I could unravel the wondrous mysteries of my reality.
Science taught me that I could come up with cutting questions, test any good ideas, and generate solid conclusions. It helped me walk through the world with the understanding that nothing was a substitute for firsthand knowledge. But, I knew I wouldn’t spend the rest of my life in classrooms and labs.
In the past year, I decided to leave my hard-earned, stable job as a government biologist for a challenging and uncertain life on a sailboat exploring the world’s oceans.
My husband, who is also in the STEM field, enthusiastically wanted to do the same.
It all started after we felt a compulsion to make bold inquiries about the world around us — specifically, our lives. In 2024, we sat down and asked ourselves:
Is this the life we wanted?
What might we need instead?
How have other people with limited cash & experience created an alternative path?
In my entire scientific career, these questions were the most important I’d ever ask. I’d wager they’re the most important you could ask, too, because it can inspire you to build a more fulfilling life if you so choose.
I realized I was on a path that was leading to an uninspiring life. Those sparks of excitement I experienced when learning the fundamentals of the universe had long been extinguished. I feared I’d wake up a decade later and wonder what had happened to my previously infinite well of curiosity.
My husband came to a similar conclusion.
Soon after we arrived at these insights, we dedicated all our effort to implementing massive change. Over the next year, we purchased an old sailboat, learned to fix it up ourselves, taught ourselves how to sail, and moved onto the water full-time. We understood what we were doing was dangerous, but nothing felt more risky than remaining where we were miserable.
My best hypothesis was that somewhere over the horizon there lived a more inspired, resilient, and confident version of myself. Now, I’ve been collecting data for 8 weeks on the water as we’ve sailed up the eastern U.S., and I’m ready to draw some conclusions.
My former land life had me confined mostly indoors, surrounded by office buildings & houses that all looked the same. I was too far from the magnificent jolt offered by the natural world.
From inside my old house, I never took the time to watch the sunset. I was too busy looking at screens. If I happened to peer out the windows and notice the sun’s warming glow, I’d know the night was near and then move on to thinking about dinner.
This is so different from my new life on the water.
On our sailboat, there’s nothing more important than sitting outside in our cockpit each evening and admiring our nearest star as our little planet rotates away from it until dawn. And then, we watch our star’s siblings start twinkling one by one.
Dinner can always wait.
I’ve tested the emotional power of sunsets even on sailing days that pushed me to my limits and times when I had started doubting my whole adventure.
But without exception, the final hours of daytime always reveal new perspectives about our voyage and place in the universe. I feel that liveliness like I used to get in the classroom & lab. I realize that life is full of beautiful surprises if we put ourselves in the right environment and mindset to discover them. All the troubles fade away when we’re experiencing growth.
On our sailboat, I have no choice but to confront all that’s happening outside. I stay laser focused on the winds, currents, tides, and any chance of imminent storms. I can’t just close my windows and blinds to ignore them. Putting on the TV won’t drown them out. But I don’t want to run from them anyway.
There’s nothing more stirring than remembering we’re so small.
My inquiries about the world via sailboat have also helped me test my mettle.
I’ve had so many times now when the meteorologists crunched the data from their radar, satellites, and buoys, and pumped it through their powerful computers only to generate forecasts that were totally wrong. Then, on our sailboat, we’re caught in the lurch.
Science isn’t always perfect at predicting the future, but we need to adapt and persevere nonetheless.
Back in my pre-sailing life, most of my existence was so predictable. My work week, evenings, and even vacations had started to become routine. I had forgotten that I had such an ability to improvise and seek guidance when needed, like I used to do in the classroom & lab.
On our sailboat, we’ve learned through trial & error that we need to be prepared for any outcome. We’re required to roll with whatever nature throws at us. If the winds continue to build and overpower our sails, or there’s an incoming storm, we trim our sails, course correct, or adapt however we can to the new conditions. And we learn more about ourselves and the glorious world.
We get to view life as a huge experiment if we want.
Many people never take the time to ask the question of whether a particular path is exciting, fulfilling, or something they even want. They think the world doesn’t have any magic left for them. If anything, they have the hypothesis that following other people must be right. But I’m not certain that is working out for most people.
We all have the right to imagine a new path, investigate it, and fail — just like a scientist would.
Right now, my husband and I are still exploring the American Northeast and learning everything about how to thrive on the water before we turn south after hurricane season. We’re setting our sights on Latin America and then crossing oceans in our little floating adventure pod. And we’re looking forward to all of it, including the highs & lows.
We’re dedicating the rest of our lives to figuring out what more is possible for us on our little planet and gaining new perspectives on life and everything else.
I keep thinking back to a year ago when I first learned that real people were pursuing alternative lifestyles because they weren’t excited by their current path anymore, and it still inspires me. I remember when I understood that normal folks could restructure their lives to explore what got them most excited and curious because they hadn’t given up on the magic that they felt as younger versions of themselves.
And I remember the day I wondered, “How can I do it, too?”
The answers may be waiting for all of us over the horizon.
Until next time,
—Cory Vinny
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