Some people track flights. I’ll admit I dabble too. But lately I’ve upgraded to a more seaworthy obsession: following things that float.

On screen one: the Route du Rhum armada, sailors who set off yesterday to cross the Atlantic powered by wind, grit and what I can only assume is very little sleep.

On screen two: the AIDAbella, which left Mallorca bound for Cape Town, powered by diesel, buffets and a cocktail menu. Aboard are our youngest son and his family, which is, naturally, the only reason I’m checking it so often. (Two or three times a day. Okay, maybe four.)

Same ocean. Completely different definitions of “roughing it.”

One fleet is battling swells with a sleeping bag and freeze-dried meals. The other is deciding between the pool and the second dessert. I’m rooting for both, though I suspect only one of them has a midnight snack station.

Fair winds to the sailors, and bon voyage to the family. I’ll be here, refreshing two maps and calling it “keeping up with the family and the sport.”