Childhood Stories and Quiet Crossings
I always imagined adventure would feel bigger.
As a child, I loved stories about explorers—the wild west, the Amazon, the North Pole, and, of course, Africa. I wanted to read about people heading into the unknown, discovering things they hadn’t even known to look for.
Now, when I find myself in some of those places, it doesn’t always feel the way I expected. Less like an expedition, more like a long vacation.
Even when I crossed the Sahara on foot, searching for a patch of shade in the midday heat, I didn’t feel like an explorer. I felt like a boy walking home from school with a backpack far too heavy for him.
Still, something in me keeps walking.
Sailing from Tangier to Rabat: A Shift in Waters
In December, we sailed out of the Mediterranean and into the Atlantic Ocean—a long-anticipated shift in both geography and energy.
The Med had begun to feel a bit too familiar. Beautiful, yes. But also busy, crowded, and tailored for summer vacationers. As a liveaboard sailor, I was starting to crave something different—less curated, more rugged. Fewer party boats, more space to breathe.
So we turned south.
Our next stop: Rabat, Morocco.
I knew about the Bouregreg River marina, built about a decade ago. But I’d never met another sailor who’d actually sailed there. That made it all the more intriguing. Sailing to Morocco via a river mouth felt like something old-school, a bit romantic—and slightly uncertain.
Entering the Bouregreg River Marina
Arriving at the Bouregreg River entrance by sailboat felt like stepping into a different rhythm.
We reached the coast just after sunrise, passing the ancient medina of Rabat on our starboard side. Small wooden ferries shuttled back and forth to the sister city of Salé. Fishermen waved from their boats. The air smelled of river silt and grilled fish.
The welcome at the Rabat marina was friendly—and for Moroccan standards, surprisingly smooth. The usual crew came aboard: port authority, customs, police, gendarmerie. They asked the same questions we’d already answered by email, made photocopies of the same documents and let us fill out multiple similar forms again.
But somehow, it all felt part of the process.
Part of arriving not just in a new country, but into a new chapter.
Living Aboard in Morocco: A Calmer Beat
Tied up in the calm of the marina, we finally exhaled.
The nights were quiet. The medinas, full of color. We wandered, soaked up the stillness, and started imagining what might come next.
This leg of the trip reminded me why I chose this life.
Why we keep sailing.
Not for checklists or speed. But for places like this—where the map goes quiet, and the pace returns.
We began sketching plans for a Christmas and New Year’s road trip inland.
And just as things started to settle into this new rhythm… But that’s another story.
Until then, stay salty my friend, Floh