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The COVID-19 “pandemic” wreaked havoc on many of us. Some saw their livelihoods evaporate, others mourned loved ones who faced their final moments in isolation, and countless individuals spent months yearning for the solace of their churches. Walmart could be open, but churches? No. None of it made any sense. And to what end? We gave up everything for a virus that had a 95+ percent survival rate, predominantly affecting those around the age of 85.

The moves made by our so-called experts were nothing short of draconian. Yet, perhaps some of the most egregious offenses occurred down under, where facilities were erected to quarantine Covid patients, effectively treating them like lepers. There were individuals who, refusing the vaccine and the prospect of life in these godawful “camps,” chose flight over surrender, some even by sea, all to cling to a semblance of freedom for themselves and their loved ones. The tale we’re about to share is of one such person, whose journey is as harrowing as it is inspiring. This is the incredible true-life story posted by an X user who goes by the name Intrepid:

My small family spent two years of our lives essentially stateless, stranded at sea, 18,000km from home, floating on 40ft of fiberglass. ‘Freedom to transact’ literally became a matter of life or death. This is our story.

Australia locked its citizens out from returning during the pandemic. My family (wife and three kids 3, 5 and 6 months old) were sailing on a catamaran in the eastern Caribbean at the time. We ended up there for two years waiting out the pandemic.

When the pandemic hit, we essentially became stateless. For a time, all countries within sailing distance closed their borders to Australian-flagged vessels. No flights or cruise ships. My son couldn’t renew his passport, and we had to get him temporary (refugee) papers.

Initially, we got locked down for 91 days on our boat in an overseas territory of France. The gendarme nautique (water police) prohibited us from leaving the boat. We technically weren’t even allowed to swim off the boat at anchor.

Early on, desperate to get the kids some exercise, we took the dinghy to an isolated beach. The gendarme came with guns and megaphones to enforce our isolation. The next day, a mini aircraft carrier arrived, and military control was implemented on the island.

Hurricane season arrived while we were still in lockdown, ramping up the stress. We provisioned to head to sea if a hurricane approached; stateless, the last resort plan was to drift at sea, waiting out the season. I studied the weather manically.

Months passed, hurricanes became imminent, the outlook dire; then Grenada saved us. They let 1,200 stranded boats in, despite their borders being completely shut. A tiny poor country was saving us when my own affluent country was blocking its citizens. This hit home hard.

We sailed 3 days non-stop to Grenada. Too late in the season, we faced terrible weather, experiencing multiple frontal systems, winds of 30-40+ knots, and at one point, three tornadic waterspouts closed in around us while the gooseneck bolt on the boom vibrated loose.

Two more weeks of quarantine, then freedom after 4 months restricted to the boat. NOAA then issued a hurricane warning with a track map directly over us. We scrambled to prepare and tie to the mangroves. Thankfully, it fizzled out and passed just south of us.

As time went by, we became forgotten citizens. ‘Freedom to Transact’ issues began to arise. We had been living in Canada for the 3 years prior on global expert visas. Canada had also locked us out (it remained open to citizens & PR but not to work visa holders).

Our Canadian bank cards expired, and we needed to physically be in Canada to activate new ones. Subsequently, our online banking account was suspended for suspicious activity. Again, we were required to go into a branch to remedy, which was impossible.

Our Australian bank access also became restricted. After roaming overseas for too long, our Australian phone SIMs expired and we lost access to our 2FA numbers needed for access to our bank accounts there.

To obtain a new SIM, we needed to provide government-approved ID and activate from within Australia. Again, the familiar response was ‘come into the bank and we can sort this out’. Loss of freedom of movement essentially led to a loss of freedom to transact.

Fortunately, we had access to family who could help us out, and the bank agreed, after much pleading over the phone, to accept a phone number of a family member for 2FA. But the lesson was clear: without Freedom to Transact, you have very limited options to sustain life.

The Australian government had also placed a Level 4 travel ban on the entire world for its citizens, previously reserved only for war zones. This immediately rendered both our travel and health insurance policies void due to exemption clauses for travel to Level 4 areas.

The Panama Canal then shut to vessels under 80ft. And so began two, often stressful, years at sea, 18,000km from home, reliant on the benevolence of small foreign countries to provide the very shelter that our own country refused to render.

This is just a snippet. You can read the rest of this amazing and harrowing story by clicking here.

God knows Covid caused a lot of fury and craziness, much of it for no reason other than power, money, and politics, but this story here takes the cake.

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