It feels strange and a little tender to write this final editor’s letter — the closing note in a monthly conversation I’ve treasured for years. Each issue, when I spoke “Radio check, radio check,” someone always answered “Loud and clear.” That steady exchange made this column feel like a real conversation rather than a message cast off into the void.
I don’t want this to be a long, weepy farewell. Over time I’ve learned that goodbyes are mutable; they soften and shift the more we live. Change itself changes, and so I prefer to think of this as a handoff rather than an ending.
You’ll be in excellent hands with Soundings’ new editor, Jeanne Craig, who brings decades of experience in marine journalism and is both respected and beloved throughout our industry. Jeanne will be supported by the talented editorial and sales teams I’ve had the privilege of working with — colleagues who made every step of this voyage rewarding. Leaving them is hard, but this ship, Soundings, was built long before my watch and will continue sailing to both familiar and fresh harbors. I’m stepping ashore for a while to pursue new adventures.
First stop: Rome. I’ll spend the first month studying Italian each morning for three and a half hours, immersing myself in language and culture to better understand the people and places I’ll be calling home. After that, I’ll move to Puglia, the narrow southern heel of Italy’s boot. Puglia is a region of striking light, ancient towns, and an extraordinary number of olive trees — some groves date back centuries. The landscape is stitched with dry-stone walls, whitewashed buildings, and a quiet rhythm that feels both old and immediate.
Our house is in a tiny, timeworn hamlet. From the roof terrace we can see a 16th-century castle and a nearby olive grove. Each morning a truck meanders slowly through the narrow streets, the driver calling out his produce from a small loudspeaker. Vegetables and fruit arrive in that same unhurried, neighborly way people have exchanged goods here for generations.
We are only 2.5 miles from the Adriatic Sea to the east — a coastline of rocky cliffs, caves, and crystalline grottos. Where the land plunges into the water, the sea takes on improbable shades of jade and turquoise: clear, cool, and refreshing. To the west, just 3.5 miles away, lies the Ionian Sea, where broad sandy beaches create a very different coastal experience. The peninsula narrows toward its tip, and five miles south of our home is Santa Maria di Leuca, where the two seas meet. Leuca’s lighthouse and waterfront promenade are popular with Italian holidaymakers, and many ristorante tables sit close enough to the surf that you might taste a salt spray in your prosecco. Most delightful for anyone who loves boats: Leuca has a large marina and a lively boating community.
From Puglia I’ll continue writing as editor-at-large for AIM’s marine magazines, taking on features and essays that let me explore the intersection of life, boats, and coastal culture. I also plan to work on a book and will chronicle nautical stories and observations on my site, southunderway.com, for anyone who wants to follow along.
I’m not saying goodbye. Not quite. Instead, consider this an invitation. I’ve already got my eye on a wooden, 24-foot tiller-steered gozzo with a 20-horsepower diesel and a generous sunpad on the bow. She’s a classic type: simple, seaworthy, and beautiful in a way that makes you want to untie the lines and head out. When the weather’s right and the tide cooperates, meet me at the dock.
South, out.
This article originally appeared in the October 2018 issue.