Twenty-five years ago, I found myself at a crossroads.

Life wasn't unfolding the way I'd imagined. I was living in a new town that didn't yet feel like home, trying to find my footing after a chapter I never expected to end.

So I did something that, at the time, seemed equal parts reckless and necessary.

I bought a ticket to the Virgin Islands.

Just me. A backpack. A journal. A few clothes.

No phone. No camera.

For a brief time, I explored and relaxed, hung out with locals, watched the water, and filled page after page with thoughts I didn't know I had.

Somewhere along the way, I discovered something unexpected.

Writing wasn't just a way to record life.

It was how I made sense of it.

Since then, writing has come and gone through different seasons of my life. Sometimes it was a journal. Sometimes a blog. Sometimes a Facebook post written after everyone else had gone to bed. Often times for clients and for work.

I never fully embraced it with consistency or confidence.

I'm trying to change that.

Mackinautical is the result.

It's a place for stories about water, work, family, change, belonging, and the ordinary moments that end up shaping a life.

The places change.

The questions don't.

I'm still trying to make sense of life as I go — “looking for answers to questions that bother me so.”

Now, I'm simply inviting you along for the ride.