I didn’t enter yachting blindly, saltwater was already in my blood. My father has been a captain in New York for years, running day charters out of the Bronx. I grew up watching him create magic for guests on the water, but the season up there is short, and I couldn’t let him have all the fun. Eventually, I packed my bags and stepped into the world of yachting full-time, ready to build something of my own. Six years later, that decision has shaped me in ways I never expected. I started as a sole stew, moved up to chief stew on busy charter programs, transitioned to charter broker, then yacht broker. Each step a new layer of responsibility, pressure, pride, and purpose. But the real story isn’t the titles; it’s what happened in between. I’ve been sexually harassed. I’ve been screamed at for getting an order wrong. I’ve been pushed past the limits of exhaustion, told to “figure it out,” and made to feel replaceable, as if the next stew could appear tomorrow and no one would blink. But I’ve also been taken in by families who treated me like their own. I’ve worked with crew who became my family. The kind of bonds forged at 2 a.m while resetting a cabin for the fourth time. I’ve served incredible owners and guests who opened my eyes to new opportunities I never knew existed. I’ve witnessed moments of beauty on deck, in quiet conversations, in the middle of chaotic turnarounds that reminded me why so many people fall in love with this industry. Yachting is incredible. A devil in disguise, if you will, breathtaking and brutal all at once, but every experience counts. Every moment, good and bad, shapes us. We grow because of the pressure, not in spite of it. Now, after six intense, transformative years on the water, I’m stepping into a new chapter. I’m continuing as a charter and yacht broker, but I’m choosing to take space from the industry and relocate to South Africa. A move rooted in peace, clarity, and a call toward something deeper. The bush has a way of softening you, grounding you, and reminding you that there’s a life beyond the uniform and the radio calls. The quiet, the animals, the endless land — it’s a different kind of magic. I want to connect people with that side of the world. The serenity, the beauty, the stillness that resets your heartbeat. I’m not leaving yachting; I’m expanding what my life can look like within it. And to anyone in the industry: captains, stews, deckhands, engineers, brokers. I want you to hear this clearly: You are important. Your health matters. Your peace matters. Your dreams are valid and reachable from anywhere in the world. Yachting is extraordinary, but it can make you forget your own worth. It teaches you to prioritize guests, schedules, and vessel needs, often at the expense of your own. But you are more than your role on board, and you deserve a life that supports your well-being. This industry builds grit, resilience, global networks, lifelong friendships, and the kind of stories that stay with you forever. But you’re allowed to choose yourself, too. I’ve watched too many of us burn out in silence. I’ve seen brilliant, resilient people leave this industry feeling hollowed out, wondering if the years they gave meant anything at all. I felt that weight myself. And I realized that if I didn’t speak up, if I didn’t share this truth, then maybe someone else would keep suffering alone, thinking they were the only ones struggling to stay afloat. You’re not alone, and choosing yourself, rest, peace, and a different path doesn’t mean you’ve failed. I’ll be working with Savanna Stalkers in South Africa, planning safaris, coordinating lodge experiences, guiding hunting and fishing expeditions through landscapes that stretch beyond what the eye can hold. I’m trading the rhythm of tides for the rhythm of the wild, designing journeys for others while finally taking a deep breath myself. There’s something sacred about the bush. It asks nothing of you but presence. It doesn’t demand perfection or polished service. It simply invites you to exist, to witness, to remember what it feels like to be still. You can love yachting and still need distance from it. You can be grateful for everything it gave you and still walk toward something new. Whether your path keeps you at sea, carries you into the bush, or anywhere in the world, please remember: Your journey is yours to design, and every chapter is just the beginning of the next adventure.