After everything Steve had done during the Carpe Diem journey, my wife and I knew we were ready for a bigger adventure—and we knew exactly who we wanted by our side. We had this dream: to buy a larger boat and cross the Tasman Sea together. To most people, it probably sounded crazy—two relatively inexperienced sailors planning an ocean crossing. But we weren’t afraid. We had Steve. And that changed everything. The search for the right boat began. Steve dove in with his usual energy and focus—scanning listings, sending thoughts, making detailed notes, and taking call after call with us. Every question we had, every concern, every “what if”—he was already three steps ahead. He was thorough, calm, honest. But more than anything, he genuinely cared. Not just about the boat, but about our experience, our safety, and our growth. When we finally found Gaia, a Beneteau 473 in Auckland, Steve helped us prepare in every way—physically, mentally, emotionally. He suggested gear, safety protocols, weather apps, even personal things like clothing and mental preparation for offshore life. We weren’t just getting ready to buy a boat; we were getting ready to trust someone with our lives at sea. And there was never a second of hesitation. We knew we were in the safest hands. We flew to Auckland with our bags and our nerves—and Steve was there, ready, focused, and already leading the charge. The inspection he led was more than professional—it was surgical. He examined every detail of the boat, knew what questions to ask, and spent hours learning the systems. And just after the sale went through, he surprised us with one of the most meaningful gifts we’ve ever received: a beautifully hand-carved timber registration plaque for Gaia, made by Steve himself. It had her official number, and it was more than a keepsake—it was a symbol. Of our dream, our journey, and the care he put into every part of it. A true work of art. And then, the big moment: we set sail for Sydney. Twelve days across the Tasman. A mix of calm beauty and raw intensity. We faced three serious storms—winds howling to 60 knots, rough seas, cold, gear malfunctions. It wasn’t easy. But Steve made it feel possible. More than possible—he made it feel empowering. He fixed problems mid-ocean. Repaired the mainsail. Climbed the mast in open water. Kept us focused, calm, and safe. Every moment switched on, checking weather, updating routes, adjusting plans. And somehow, even with no real rest, he stayed calm, cheerful, and fully present. He taught us everything—how to read the clouds, how to handle pressure, how to work as a team. But what he really taught us was far beyond sailing. He showed us how to trust ourselves. How to embrace challenge. How to feel safe in uncertainty. And how to keep joy alive, even in the toughest moments. What we shared out there was more than just a crossing—it was a life-changing experience. Steve wasn’t just our skipper. He was our guide, our teacher, and now, someone we’ll always call a friend. We left Auckland as hopeful dreamers. We arrived in Sydney as sailors—with more confidence, skill, and trust in each other than we ever imagined. And none of it would’ve happened without Steve.