I left years ago thinking that someday I'd be back, but like John Fogarty sang, "someday never comes" and, so far, that has indeed been the case. You may be asking yourself, what in the hell is he talking about this time? And I'd say just this, the sea, the sea. The sea that wraps you in its watery arms and holds you close, embraces you in its dangerous grasp. The sea is a wild animal, it may seem all cute and pretty from the beach, but when you jump in the cage with it, watch out, it may slap you across the face with an eighty pound paw. The sea is more than just water in a basin. It is life and by that I don't mean merely that it contains life, which, of course, it does, but I mean that the sea is life itself; it's the sun and the moon and the stars and the sky and the weather and time and water and animals and depth and waves and warmth and cold and streams and doldrums. It's islands and continents and beaches and deltas and estuaries and gulfs. It's eddies and currents and icebergs and sunburns and dolphins that an swim faster than your little boat can carry you. It's typhoons and hurricanes and drug runners and rum runners and pirates and navies and merchants and cargo and yachts and teenagers circumnavigating the globe alone. And more, much more than this, it is home.