Four People Set Sail
A diseased girl, a drunk, a crazy lady, and a fool
Sahara Dust: A Caribbean Memoir
Coming 2026
The paintings tell the story better than I can explain it.
Thea at sunset, wind in her hair, eyes closed, soaking in the golden light. Me celebrating another glorious day on the water, beer in hand, feeling like I had won life’s lottery and entered the kingdom of heaven. I had no idea that all of it, even Thea, would evaporate within a few months—disappearing like a smoke ring on a windy day.
Antigua, 1982-1987.
It begins on American Airlines flight 667—Thea squeezing my hand at takeoff, saying what she always said: “Wheels up means no turning back.”
Her mother had chartered a sailboat for a three-week voyage through the Leeward Islands. Two windsurfers strapped to the deck. We sailed past an empty beach on Antigua’s west shore. Turquoise water. Perfect wind.
“It’s like it’s waiting for us,” Thea said.
We anchored off a smaller beach for the night. After a barbecue the drunk and the crazy lady discovered a rusted plane tail section half-buried in the dunes. It wasn’t the only warning we’d miss.
Within a year, I’d be running a windsurfing school on that beach. Within five, I’d be teaching Vanessa Redgrave while Timothy Dalton watched from shore. I would speak to Bob Dylan would as he passed through the airport with a model in white patent leather boots. World champions would use our operation to shoot their sponsor’s upcoming catalog. Magazine covers. Dolphin, whale, sea turtle and ray encounters. Hurricane preparations. A drug runner’s cigarette boat rumbling offshore during lessons.
My best years so far on planet earth.
“Four people set sail,” Thea had written in her 1982 journal—that I only stumbled upon after her death—“A diseased girl, a drunk, a crazy lady, and a fool.”
Turns out I was the fool.
Every April, winds carried dust from the Sahara across the Atlantic—thousands of miles of African desert suspended in the air, painting the sky orange for days. Each year it came earlier. Stayed longer.
I’m writing this book now. I’ll be sharing chapters here throughout 2026.
If you read Surfing the Interstates you know how I tell a story. This one’s different. Warmer waters. Deeper cost.
Subscribe to receive new chapters as they drop.