It all began on a sailboat drifting through the turquoise waters of the Bahamas. I was just a kid then — curious, sunburnt, and wide-eyed — with nothing but ocean stretching out in every direction and a salty breeze that made everything feel like an adventure waiting to happen.

The boat wasn’t fancy, but it was home. My family and I spent days hopping between islands, anchoring in quiet coves, and waking up to the sound of waves lapping against the hull. That’s where I first picked up a fishing rod — not in some crowded pier or stocked pond, but in the wild, open sea. I remember the thrill of my first catch, the tug on the line, the splash, the chaos — and the grin that didn’t leave my face for hours.

But it wasn’t just fishing. One day, I slipped on a mask and dove in. That moment changed everything. Beneath the surface was a whole new world — coral gardens, darting fish, and silence that felt sacred. I started diving every chance I got, learning how to move with the water instead of against it. And then came spearfishing — the ultimate test of patience, focus, and respect for the ocean.

I wasn’t just catching fish anymore. I was learning how to read the currents, how to breathe calmly, how to become part of the underwater world instead of just visiting it. Every dive taught me something new — about the ocean, about myself, and about the kind of life I wanted to live.

Now, whether I’m on land or back on the water, that sailboat in the Bahamas is where it all began. It’s the reason I chase the wild, crave the deep, and feel most alive when I’m out there — rod in hand, fins on my feet, and salt in my hair.