Why I Joined Aubrey on This Adventure

Three ladies, one baby, and a whole new chapter on the horizon.

Before this wild plan to sail to Panama ever existed, my life was split between two places that shaped me in completely different ways: the sunbaked roads of Baja and the misty green summers of the San Juan Islands. Most of the year I lived and worked in Baja—small communities, dusty streets, ocean air, and endless open sky. Then in summer, I’d migrate back to Washington, where my roots ran deep from years spent living in the islands. It was an unconventional rhythm, but it was mine.

In between those two worlds, I became a solo female traveler in a way I never expected. My Scout camper—mounted perfectly in the back of my new-to-me Chevy—was my dream rig. Something I bought, built up, and took on the road entirely by myself. It was freedom on wheels. I drove down lonely highways, crossed borders, rattled down washboard roads, got stuck, got unstuck, learned to fix things, learned to improvise, learned how to change tires in triple-digit heat. It was my rite of passage into capability. Every stretch of road taught me a different lesson about who I was becoming.

But underneath all of that independence was the simple truth that for a long time, I’d chosen partners who had seen the world because I wanted to see the world with someone. I wasn’t well traveled yet, and it felt like the only way in. But life has a way of rearranging expectations. The travel dreams talked about in past relationships never fully materialized. Plans stayed ideas. Adventures stayed theoretical. And without dragging anyone through the mud, I realized I had spent too long waiting on someone else’s momentum to ignite my own.

So in 2020, when I packed up my Scout camper—my dream setup, finally mine—and pointed my truck south toward Baja, it felt like more than a drive. It was a reclaiming. It was me saying I’ll go anyway. And once I started, I just kept going. Baja didn’t just give me a place to live; it gave me the space to grow, to figure out what I wanted most, and to practice building a life I didn’t need permission for.

Somewhere in the middle of those years, I also realized something big:

Yes, I could travel solo.

Yes, I could problem-solve alone.

Yes, I could be strong and stubborn and capable.

But I also deeply loved traveling with friends. The shared problem-solving, the laughter, the extra pair of hands when everything broke at once—it made everything richer. It reminded me that adventure didn’t have to be lonely to be empowering.

Aubrey and I had already tested those waters. We traveled together a few years ago and it worked—easily, naturally. Then life pulled us in different directions for a while. She had Violet. Her world shifted. Relationships shifted. And when our paths crossed again, our conversations quietly drifted back to dreaming. Little ideas turned into bigger ones. We daydreamed business concepts, travel plans, new beginnings. And slowly, one idea rose above the rest:

Get back to Puerto Vallarta.

Get Houdini seaworthy.

Sail her to the Caribbean.

Revitalize the heart of Sailing Miss Lone Star.

In the middle of these plans, we met Savannah in Yelapa. She slid into our lives like she’d always been meant to. Her energy, her love for Violet, her willingness to jump in—she just fit. We talked her into joining us without much effort because honestly, it felt right from the beginning. Now, I can’t imagine this chapter without her.

So here we are now.

Three ladies—Aubrey, Savannah, and me.

One baby—Violet, our tiny captain.

A 51’ Formosa named Houdini.

And a dream that feels equal parts brave, insane, and perfectly timed.

People in the peripheral of my life sometimes say to me, “It must be nice…”

And I get it. From the outside, this life can look romantic or effortless or charmed.

But here’s the truth I always come back with:

It wasn’t always nice before I got here.

And even now, it’s still not always nice.

It’s uncomfortable. It’s scary. It’s uncertain. It’s exhausting.

But the discomfort is where the real growth happens.

And that’s the growth I’m here for—the courage that comes from stepping into the unknown instead of waiting for the perfect moment that never arrives.

I didn’t just join this adventure.

I walked into the next evolution of myself.

Aubrey and Violet came back into my life at exactly the right time. Savannah arrived like a missing puzzle piece. And Houdini—well, she’s the vessel carrying the story we’re writing as we go. The story of rebuilding, rerouting, reimagining, and choosing to live life fully, even when it’s messy and hard and beautifully unpredictable.

Panama is just the destination.

The real adventure is everything happening on the way there.

Three ladies, one baby…Panama, here we come.