[This story was completed as a request. I am now taking commissions for reasonable, negotiable prices. Pm me if interested!]
I’ve watched far too many TV shows of people getting lost at sea. How else could I explain the awful paranoia plaguing me as I set out on a solo fishing trip in the big blue Atlantic? My teeth are chattery as I steer the houseboat towards a system of coves that lies around 400 or so nautical miles from shore. After finding a secure place to hitch up, I stop to send my coordinates home to Sarah. I’m not getting stranded at sea just yet.
The boat is tucked away in a system of shallow coves, almost like an island that was partially swallowed by the sea. In some places, I can stand knee-deep to cast my line. The rest of the area is relatively shallow, considering we’re talking about the ocean.