June 22, 2026
We packed our backpacks early this morning and turned the MGB back toward the coastal highways, leaving the entirely empty beer coolers of Miami far behind us. We drove north along the Atlantic coast, the ocean keeping us company on our right side as the summer sun beat down on the open highway. There is a magnificent simplicity to land travel that I am really starting to grow fond of. When you are under sail, your mind is constantly working—worrying about weather cells, studying charts, and listening to the creak of the rigging. On the highway, you just point the nose of the car forward and let the asphalt do the thinking.
By late afternoon, we pulled into a quiet, heavily forested coastal inlet along the Georgia border. The air here is thick with the scent of salt marshes and old oak trees dripping with Spanish moss. We found a small, simple lodge right on the water's edge that felt entirely cut off from the mainstream world. The owner had a television set up out on a screened-in back porch overlooking the water, and we settled in just in time to watch Norway square off against Senegal.
The match was an absolute classic battle of contrasting climates and styles. You had the physical, highly disciplined structure of the Norwegians playing against the explosive, breathtaking speed and artistic rhythm of the African side. The patrons on the porch were completely captivated, nursing their drinks and swapping tales of their own travels between halves. Senegal pushed forward with a relentless attacking flair, scoring twice, but Norway's bruising frontline anchored down like an old oak tree and struck back with fury. It was a thrilling, high-energy match that kept everyone on the absolute edge of their seats until the final whistle confirmed a spectacular 3-2 victory for Norway.
After the game concluded, Sweet Pea and I walked down to a small wooden dock to watch the sunset. The eastern sky gave way to brilliant shades of deep red and orange as the sun fought to hang on to the day. We sat there with our feet dangling over the water, listening to the natural symphony of the coastal birds and the gentle lapping of the marsh tide against the pilings. It’s hard to believe the world is caught up in such a massive sporting event when you can find pockets of total peace like this along the coast. It’s exactly the kind of paradise I strive for—the kind that lives in your heart and your mind when you choose to slow down and enjoy the moment.
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