My Wife And I -shipwrecked On A Desert Island -... Page

That night, a rainstorm soaked our shelter. We huddled back-to-back, shivering. Then, silently, she passed me half of a sweet potato she had hidden. I used my body to shield her from the dripping roof. No apology was spoken. None was needed.

The island was roughly two miles long and half a mile wide. Palm trees. Volcanic rock. A fresh-water seep near the center. No smoke on the horizon. No plane trails. Just the infinite hum of the ocean. My Wife and I -Shipwrecked on a Desert Island -...

Here is the log of how my wife and I turned a tropical nightmare into the greatest adventure of our lives. The storm hit the Sea Sprite at 3:00 AM. I won’t bore you with nautical jargon, but suffice to say, a rogue swell pushed us into a reef fifty miles off the shipping lanes. Sarah, a former lifeguard, kept her head while I panicked. She grabbed the emergency duffel—the one I had called “paranoid weight”—which contained a knife, a magnesium fire starter, a first-aid kit, and a roll of duct tape. That night, a rainstorm soaked our shelter