​My flight from Denver landed on Friday night around 11:30 in Hartford.  After a short Uber downtown, I checked into the Hilton, showered, and crawled into bed.  I felt a cold coming on as we landed, and the pressure equalized.  Not a good sign to start the trip.

On Saturday morning, after snoozing several times, I hopped out of bed, put on the same outfit (having learned that a change of clothes while at sea is a waste) and checked out.  I realized that I was in the heart of Hartford.  The wind was whipping up, and it was rainy.  Perfect travel day, but really nasty and cold weather.  

The drive south to Westbrook was spent on the phone with my mom.  It had been a couple weeks since we caught up, so was good to download the goings on in both our lives.  I often credit her with this adventure mentality.  Not that her “making it” to Sheboygan, Wisconsin was some grand feat, but escaping a one-horse town in North Dakota for college and an out-of-state move was well ahead of the times.  She has always encouraged me to spread my wings, seek adventure, live life, etc.  That said, she’s probably the most anxious about my leaving the safety of the shore and heading into the Atlantic.  I imagine the call calmed her nerves a little.  Talked Badger football with pops for a few minutes as well.  Safe territory for us both - we’re too proud to share any emotion, but I know he loves me.  Feeling is mutual.