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Tossing and turning in a bunk, tucked into a tiny cabin at sea level, I found the excitement of my first solo adventure masked by a cocktail of loneliness, culture shock, and my weak stomach's reaction to tap water. Oh, and the fact that for the last few days, the apartment block size naval ship I was on had been made infantile with huge waves tussling us like a rubber duck in a bath on our voyage from Viña del Mar. One dream I've had since I was a girl was to get so far out into the ocean that I could walk around the boat, look out at the horizon from each direction and not see land. To some, it's not the most exciting thing to put on your bucket list, but if you don't grow up on the water, such a concept is bewildering. The night was calm and the moon was brightly shining through the circular brass windows as I slid into my coat and crept out of my room past sleeping neighbours. I navigated my way through the tiny corridors, quietly scaling the steep ladders and crawling out onto the deck where a gentle South Pacific breeze coldly bit my cheeks. The clean air and a moment to myself relaxed me at first but the moon casting shadows on naval equipment made me uneasy and as my heart started to pound faster; I heard a splash. I wasn't alone. A million things started to race through my head. Had I overheard a murder? Had someone fallen overboard? Was I supposed to go investigate? Then another splash. And another. I finally found the courage to slip over to where the commotion was coming from. When I reached that ledge, I gasped and held myself. I'd never had a reaction like this to seeing something beautiful, but here in the freezing Chilean waters, I was dumbfounded, trying to figure out what I was seeing. Long, glistening, silver; swirling in the currents below, splashing and playing. I was witnessing magic and I was certain they were sirens playing in the darkness, calling to me not with their voices but with an elegant balletic trance. As my eyes adjusted and my mind caught up, I stayed and watched the school of flying fish as they played and danced with the ripples from the boat under the bright starry sky until they circled and swam into the black depths below. With them, they took that fear inside my chest; I was ready to tackle the next day when I'd arrive at Juan Fernandez Island.