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Going up the mast is one of the most dangerous things you can do as a solo sailor.

Abby Sunderland

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Abby Sunderland
Age: 31
Born: 1993
Born: October 19
Explorer
Sailor
LA
California
Wild Eyes (sailing vessel)
Abigail Sunderland
Abby J. Sunderland
Abigail J. Sunderland
Abigail Jillian Sunderland
Abby Jillian Sunderland
Abigail Jillian Abby Sunderland
Things
Mast
Masts
Sailor
Solo
Dangerous
Going

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When a sailor overcomes crushing adversity, there's a massive sense of accomplishment.
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I will definitely attempt to sail around the world again. In fact, I can't wait for the chance to try again.
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All the ingenuity, all the high-tech gear, all the jury-rigging sometimes the sea would rip it all away until there was only you, the Creator, and His mercy.
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I will never forget the feeling of walking into my home, a place that while drifting helpless in the middle of the Indian Ocean I wondered if I would ever see again.
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The open ocean often takes you past your physical limits and when it does, sailing becomes a mental game.
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Slowly, my brain let me in on the fact that I had just come this close to dying.
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The things that happen on the sea take you beyond yourself, beyond human capability.
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Fewer people have successfully solo-circumnavigated the globe than have journeyed into space.
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Terror ripped through me as I was falling, falling, falling toward the sea.
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I was so thankful that my parents trusted me enough and had enough faith in my abilities to let me follow my passion and try to do something great, even if I might fail.
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When I saw the plane, I was absolutely astonished! Two emotions crashed over me: surging joy and crazy fear.
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If a big wave came at the wrong moment, it would sweep me off into forty-eight-degree water, where I might last twenty minutes. Drowning quickly might be better.
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The terrifying physics of going up-mast in heavy seas are inescapable.
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But none of that kept me from picturing what a tsunami might look like if it did rise up and roar toward my little boat like some watery blue version of the Great Wall of China.
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On October 19, 2009, my sixteenth birthday, Wild Eyes officially became mine! Now it was really happening.
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I am twelve thousand miles wiser, twelve thousand miles more resilient, and I have twelve thousand miles more faith in God.
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Wild Eyes was built for speed and I was flying down walls of water twenty and thirty feet high.
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The seriousness of my situation started to sink in, and again I fought panic. I pushed it down, but it was harder this time, like my insides were an open can of shaken soda and I was trying to keep it from bubbling up out of the top.
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There are a number of places on marine charts where even the most weathered sailors point and say, Right there, nothing can go wrong. Everything has to go right. One place is the turbulent passage south of Cape Horn. Another is the dead center of the Indian Ocean.
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The winds were blowing from west to east, pushing Abby's boat toward the rocks as Abby struggled with the autopilots below. If Wild Eyes reached those islands, she wouldn't run aground, keel in the sand. She would be smashed into pieces.
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