The Psychology of Crossing Between Worlds || The crew of Gil Eanes's caravel huddled near the mast as Cape Bojador loomed ahead through the Atlantic mist. For fourteen previous expeditions, this had been the turning point—the place where even the bravest captains read the signs of approaching doom and chose retreat over the unknown. Medieval sailors didn't simply fear rough waters or treacherous currents at Bojador. They believed they approached a threshold where reality itself changed: beyond this cape, the sun would blacken their skin, the ocean would boil their ships, and sea monsters would rise from depths that marked the edge of the navigable world.Cape Bojador functioned as a portal in the truest sense—not because it led to another world, but because sailors believed that crossing it meant entering a realm where the fundamental laws of nature no longer applied. The cape divided existence into two distinct realities: the known world behind them, governed by familiar rules, and the impossible world ahead, where survival itself became uncertain.When Eanes finally pushed through in 1434, he discovered something profound: the waters didn't boil, the sun burned no hotter, no monsters emerged from the depths. Yet his crossing remained a genuine portal moment. Once he knew what lay beyond Bojador, he could never unknow it...[Continue reading to explore why portal narratives appear in every culture, how authors from Homer to Miyazaki construct believable threshold crossings, and what these stories reveal about the psychology of transformation →]
Again you have inspired me. I will have to work portals into a story or two now. Wonderful read.