To order your copy of Dave and Jaja's new book, Into the Light: A Family's Epic Journey, click here. For their latest book reviews, click here. To view a gallery of images showing DRIVER, the Martins, and their adventures, click here.

Note: You can meet Dave and Jaja in person when they give a presentation on "Iceland and Beyond" at the Mystic Seaport Museum on November 20. Tickets go on sale October 16. For more info, contact Karin Soderberg at Mystic Seaport at 860-572-5308.

Dear SetSail:

Leaving never gets easier. Our friends told us: "It's easy for you. You're used to leaving friends." On June 6th we sailed away from Corner Brook, Newfoundland. It was a day that was difficult for the entire family. The classes of elementary school children walked down to the breakwater in neat lines and waved us off. Their chorus of goodbyes reached us out in the bay. Special friends said goodbye on the dock and others walked farther down as we sailed away.

We felt lucky with the weather. Sure it was 45 degrees, but the wind was light and behind us. In fact, we were dead down. Dave put out the pole and we sailed away wing and wing. For some reason that point of sail looks so impressive, especially to non-sailors. Dave reefed steadily as the wind increased. After being out for a half hour the wind had increased to 25 knots with gusts, and the rain was pelting us. Chris, Holly, and Teiga retreated to the shelter of the cabin. Warm and dry in our fleece coats, wool mittens, and rain gear, Dave and I enjoyed the gale. We were headed to Woods Island, 12 miles down the bay. It was exhilarating to watch the white wall of the next squall approach. The best part was that the protected waters of the bay were relatively flat, and we skimmed along like a Laser. That's saying a lot considering DRIVER is 9 tons.

As we sailed along we thought about the goodbye party our friends had arranged for us the previous evening. What a beautiful night. The first one of the year where we didn't have to wear coats. We hung out on the balcony of the Yacht Club drinking wine or beer. There was a Newfie band and a barbecue. Tons of kids raced around screaming, others sat eating hot dogs. Even the mayor of Corner Brook showed up, shook our hands, and presented us with a set of cocktail glasses.

Since it was the night before our departure, it would give us two chances for teary farewells.

"We can't leave!" said our kids.

"You can't leave," said our friends.

"I can't believe we're doing this again," I said. "You think we'd learn."

But there's always a reason why we can't stay in a place we've come to love, and it's usually the same one. It has to do with immigration laws: residency permits, work permits, boat import taxes.

"Why can't we live anywhere in the world we want?" Holly asked.

"It's the way the world is." Dave said.

We rounded the corner of Woods Island, doused the jib, started the engine, and hauled the main in tight. Without local knowledge it would be difficult to get into the lagoon because the reef entrance overlaps itself; you have to pass the entrance, come in at an angle, then halfway through make a hairpin turn. Kind of like a windy mountain road, except there's no yellow line, or in this case, buoys to follow. The sea was breaking all the way across and we were happy that it wasn't the first time we were attempting the entrance.

I stayed up on the bow looking for submerged rocks or "funny-looking" water. All I could see was angry white water, dotted with patches of dark murky reflection. It was medium tide so some of the sharp rocks on the reef stuck out, sending up sprays of water as the waves broke over them. Meanwhile, Dave steered us in. We were halfway through.

"Do you think we should turn yet?" I asked.

"Almost," he replied. "We need to go just a bit farther."

After the first turn the water flattened out. The rest was easy. Zig. Zag. Dave had never wavered but guided us through perfectly. Confidence.

Soon the anchor was down, and our big diesel heater made the cabin cozy. The wind howled all night; the rain bucketed down. By morning the front had passed and the sky was a deep blue.

Another summer of sailing had begun.