And so it began...

It was unexpectedly really rough going once we got out of the mouth of the Merrimack River.

I wound up on the foredeck of the Maria Jane, my trusty Pearson 26, trying to retrieve the anchor after it was knocked off by a combination wave/wake. It was my then-girlfriend Alison's first trip on the boat, and I'd told her to steer directly into the seas; not the best technique, granted, but one that works best for a novice.

"Oh shit!" I heard her yell, and I looked up into a wall of water as Maria Jane plowed into a trough. The resulting wall of water clobbered me; the only thing that kept me on-board was the death grip I had on the bow rail.

After I'd returned to the cockpit, soaked to the skin and a little worse for wear, I thought to myself 'As much as I love this Pearson, I've outgrown her. I could really use a heavier boat'.

And so it began...

Myself and the Maria Jane.