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Abby Sunderland

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I’m one-hundred-fifty miles off Cape Horn, both autopilots are broken, and my boat is drifting toward one of the nastiest chunks of ocean on the face of the earth.
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p. 106

 
Abby Sunderland

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There are a number of places on marine charts where even the most weathered sailors point and say, “Right there, nothing can go wrong. Everything has to go right.” One place is the turbulent passage south of Cape Horn. Another is the dead center of the Indian Ocean.

 
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