In 2019 I was assigned by Forbes Magazine Brazil to travel and document Manuel Morgado, one of the most experienced Brazilian climbers alive, engaging in his new adventure. 
After being diagnosed with Calcific periarthritis, a condition where the joints start to calcify, limiting movements and causing extreme pain with intense exercise and weight load, Manuel had came to the point where he would have to quit climbing. He spent his whole life in the mountains. He never had a house. His only bellongings were two duffelbags stored at a friends place in Kathmandu, Nepal. 
So Manuel decided to begin a new adventure. Instead of mountains made of ice and stone and no place to call home, he would live in a vessel that sails in between mountains made of water instead. 
The first move was to bring the new boat acquired in the US to Portugal, crossing the gulf stream and subsequentially the Atlantic Ocean all the way to Europe. 
We were a 4 men crew, each working 12 hour shifts split into 6 at the sails and Helm and 6 hours in between logging, navigating, radar monitoring and radio comunications. So Lets say it wasnt really only a photo assignment. 
On the way, we were (latelly) notified that we would have to cross in between two hurricanes after crossing the gulf stream. 12 hour shifts turned into “only sleep when you really need to”, and “If you can”. 
6-8 meter waves crashed over the boat for days. Outside was a freezing hell where the only insurance of safety was being 24/7 clipped and attached with a rope to the little catamaran. Inside was terrifying, the noise emmited by the waves hitting the boat’s surface and the shell cracking sounds are something I can still clearly remember. 
A Catamaran boat is know for its stability in calm waters, but when in harsh conditions it has the danger of fliping. And if it does there is no way to turn it back to being straight as single vessel boats. 
On the first day we were so rushed by adrenaline that sleeping was done in small 15 minutes snippets. On the second day we lost our radar, beacon and motor in the same night. On the third our GPS failed and we had to travel on estimates and stars readings. On the fourth water started infiltrating one of the boat’s compartments and I wrote a goodbye letter just in case. 
It was a real one. I have never thought I would ever write a real goodbye letter before.
On that same night things started calming down. The crashing waves turned into slow moving rounded mountains. The moon was full enough to watch these giants passing by this little vessel containing four souls without even bothering about their presence. 
I was on the 8pm to 8am shift and two of the others, Manuel and Curtis went to get some rest. Andre was wih me and we smoked cêlebration cigarretes watching the moon at 2am. 
At 4am Andre went for a nap on the outside seat, still clipped and strapped to the boat. 
For the first time everything became so quiet I could hear the moon whispering “it’s over, you are all going to be ok”. 
The sun started comming up and something caught my eyes in the distance. A fin sticking outside the water comming to our direction. A shark really was all I needed to make my nightmares list complete. 
But then another fin appears, then anoter, and another. 
It was a group of dolfins  coming to salute us. 
I instantly jumped up and ran to wake everyone. - You gotta see this!
We all got together and watched our new friends with the same curiosity they watched us. 
On that same day everything calmed down and it felt as if none of all that had ever haopened. 
These photos were recovered from the web, I’m sorry for the low quality and color casts they present.