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142nd of First, 1100 A.W. — The 21st and final day over sea. When the captain announced the sighting of land, I felt the whole airsail move. It was like life had suddenly returned to a stiff corpse. “Was I dreaming?” I first worried. Only once my own eyes had seen it did I truly believe. A relief like no other washed over me. I felt rejuvenated and intoxicated with wonder. Could there ever be a more heavenly feeling? We became the most blessed souls in the whole wide world. The crew roared and screamed in absolute joy. We all scrambled to the deck.

The past week felt like an eternity — every day more hopeless than the last. Somedays, I felt like falling overboard to save myself from whatever worse inevitable doom awaited me aboard. The crew was in utter shambles. We were a floating graveyard, a basket of forlorn misery. We might as well have called ourselves a skeleton crew. We certainly looked like it.

The land gracing my sight for the first time… My dreams could not have prepared me for its beauty. On our new horizon… Vibrant orange cliffs illuminated by the sun and clear blue sky… I had never seen a more beautiful and majestic orange. No pigment could suffice. The crew all became so entranced by it they could hardly perform their duties, even as Captain Leaping Tiger violently hurled his tired voice at them.

In that single moment — the orange glistening on the horizon — all our suffering was reduced. Hell fled the heavens. Discovery and more awaited us. As we drifted closer, the cliffs climbed further up the horizon. A visual of an orange labyrinth of canyons emerged, made of gorgeous sandstone. Its eroded surface revealed no sign of Man or settlement.

At first, there was no place to tie down and anchor. The terrain is rugged and makes the Wise Mountains look gentle by comparison. As far as the eye could see, deep canyons drained into the sea. We eventually found a low sandstone island on a river in a canyon. Ahead of us, the canyon’s walls close in, forming a tight gorge with an arch. It’d be barely wide enough to fit the airsail. We secured our mooring line to the archway and settled ourselves on the island, which was low enough to give us access to the river.

We drank from the river. Its water is a lively turquoise colour. It reminds me of the blue waters of Heaven River during the late First of the Year. It used to be blue all year round but has turned a more murky green or brown in recent years. I wonder if I will ever see the falls again — to feel its mist rising up the cliffs of the hanging Heaven Valley and smell the scent of the damp stone walls of the Sanctuary. The taste of this river does not remind me much of home. It’s more chalky and salty. There are plentiful fish, but they are nothing like the pink and silver ones from home that fishers harvest from the river. These ones are various shades of purple and green. Nobody’s caught a big one yet or seen one any longer than a foot, for that matter. They taste… Very fishy… Perhaps I’m just not used to being without seasoning.

The cook, Leap Frog, is ecstatic. I can’t remember the last time I saw him smile like this. However, the captain has been growing a worried face. As night has approached, I wonder if he is thinking about his orders. The others have seemingly been swept up in the excitement, but if anything, only the easiest part is over. We still have to somehow return home and report our findings to the Council. Only essential crew can return, including myself, so we must leave most of the others behind. This island isn’t much bigger than the airsail herself. Though, the land, while arid and rough, does bear water. I wonder if we may be leaving tomorrow. The doctor, Fog Eyes, doesn’t seem too bothered by the situation. He’s too busy feasting on the catches from the river.

I will try and get some rest. It’s strange to be on land again. The ground is so solid and still. A welcoming feeling…