On the deck of the boat, harnesses on, non-locking carabiners hooking us into the sail (trying not to think about how sketchy that is). Are you ready? asks the 20-something guy in his hoodie and torn jeans. And with that, we are off. We float into the air, between the green water and gray clouds. Julia waves, next to her grandfather, her eyes bright, as we soar higher and higher. Okay, I think. If we fell now, we wouldn’t die. This is fine. And then we keep going, unbelievably high, the boat becoming a tiny speck below. We are the first party to go, so we have no idea what to expect. I know that I wasn’t expecting the quiet. I wasn’t expecting for it to be so peaceful. I wasn’t expecting to be up quite so high. We can see for miles and miles. Ocean to one side, land, more water, more land to the other. “So this is what we had to do to get a little peace and quiet,” Scott jokes. “Fly hundreds of feet in the air while being pulled by a boat.” It feels like we’re in the air forever. As we slowly descend, I am struck once again by the distance between sky and sea. And then we’re back on the boat, Julia in my lap, making small talk with the other parties, the sky nothing but a dream.