For a long time, I felt like I had let Angela down. The night I got back from the Marshall Islands was the only night I ever dreamed of her. She was rowing where the sky and sea reflected each other, disappearing into infinity. I told her we tried everything, but still failed. Suddenly, I was on shore, watching her fade into the horizon.
As she faded into the distance, her voice called back, “I’m sure everything will get to you eventually.”
More time passed. My restlessness grew, and I began to see the footage we did have in a new light. Piece by piece, we tinkered away and I began to see what we did have in a new light. The absence of original footage forced us to find new voices to reconstruct the story, most notably Deb, Angela’s widow. In the process, the film transformed. What we thought we were telling—a triumphant adventure sports story—became something else entirely: a love story. Not about what love is, but what love does. About Angela’s unwavering belief that her journey mattered, and Deb’s unconditional faith in her.
