Around The World In 1,080 Days

"It depends on one's religious background," he says, smiling. "You can read every book about what to do and theorize forever. But until you're actually in one of those situations, you never know. Here's what I'd plan to do: Get the sails off at once. Try various positions for the boat, using a small storm jib. The boat will continue to go without the big sails. In an extreme circumstance we'd get the kids into life jackets down below and ready a life raft. You do not want to get in a raft too soon, though, because it's much worse there than on the boat. You take to the raft only when the boat starts to sink. There's a saying: You should step off the top of your mast into your life raft. And, of course, I would radio for help.

"The boat is equipped with an EPIRB system—the letters standing for Emergency Position Indicating Radiobeacon. It transmits a signal to a satellite, which sends it to a series of ground stations and then on to a place near Washington, D.C. The boat is identified by number and approximate position. Aircraft are called, and the other boats nearby." He adds, "All in all, I'd sooner avoid the whole thing."

What the family most looks forward to is visiting a place such as the Gal�pagos—"not only to see what's there," David says, "but also to feel how it was an inspiration to Darwin. We'd also like to find island communities off the beaten path. There are thousands of islands in Indonesia and the Philippines. I'd love to go upriver in Borneo, for instance, and take the boat way inland." In New Zealand they plan to seek out the remote and rugged areas of South Island, where they can trek from hut to hut in the mountains. "But the plan will change and develop as we go along," David says. "The more we define the trip, the further we will get from what it's going to be like."

What, though, is the deeper goal of this voyage? As a form of self-examination and testing, it seems the response to an impulse, felt by lots of people these days, to get away from a too-convenient and comfortable modern life and see what one is made of. Ordinarily this is done vicariously, by reading books like The Perfect Storm, Into Thin Air and The Excursion, or it is undertaken with so many safeguards and comforts as to nullify its value. David and Judy do not speak of the trip as a great romance. "This is not a vacation," says Judy. "It's life."

"But what's so important about doing this," I ask, "that you will leave family, friends, neighbors, a good business, a valuable practice, everything you love?"

"All of that will be here when we get back," says Judy. "Now we all have a moment when we can do it. People spend a great deal of money on Outward Bound. We're doing the same thing as a family. It's about paring down to certain essentials, to the nitty-gritty. Everything will require teamwork and trust. If there's a problem, we will have to work it out together."

"Is it about risk?" I ask.

"Not about life-and-death risk," she says. "That would be unconscionable—to risk the children. It's about perceived risk. We know that the boat has been through bad weather and survived. David knows what he's doing. The risk occurs when you don't do the right thing. If you're not attuned to the power of the natural world, you're in trouble. You need to be aware of the world around you and adjust to it. It's not going to adjust to you." They know that by the time they return, they will be different people. Charlotte will be a young girl, not a baby; Jasper will be a novice teenager; the two older children, Sarah and David, will be teenagers in full who will have been away from the normal influences of friends, village and school. There will have been silence, the flapping of sails and a great deal of ocean. Putting it mildly, Judy says, "We're going to come back a very close family."

I ask, "Are you and David also trying to get away from something?"

"Away from the rat race," she says. "But not away from the world."