My name is Courtney Edwards
I make maps.
I make maps.
I live at sea on a sailboat called Whisky Jack II and work up and down the British Columbia coast.
Being on the water feels like home, so I built a life that revolves around it.
I’m a marine cartographer by training and a waterperson by nature. I make maps for people who work and play on the water. Maps that help you see the whole coast at once: everywhere you’ve been, and everywhere you still want to go.
How I Came to This Work
I grew up on the BC coast, surrounded by makers: Weavers. Photographers. Painters. Boat builders. Making things was normal. Useful things mattered.
University gave me technical skill and precision. The ocean gave me judgment. Years spent sailing, surfing, diving, and working on the water taught me what actually matters out there. Out there, skills matter more than miles.
For me, cartography is not just science. It’s a way of honoring experience and telling the truth about place.
Each map blends accuracy, grit, and restraint. Made for people who know the ocean is not a backdrop, but a way of life.
Why I Started Making These Maps
The idea took shape during a three-month lighthouse shift in 2021. With a lot of time to think, I realized that, despite being a professional cartographer, I had never seen a map that told my story.
The miles sailed. The passages run. The places that shaped me. So I made the map I wanted. Then I made it better. Then I made it for other waterpeople.
These maps are not about navigation. They are about memory, perspective, and planning what comes next.
How These Maps Get Made
Every map is designed slowly, with a mariner’s eye. I choose clarity over decoration. Context over clutter. Details that help you tell true stories.
They are professionally printed using quality materials, built to last, and tested by people who actually know these waters: Always friends. Sometimes fishermen I meet along the way. If something doesn’t feel right, it doesn’t ship.
You’re Part of This
When you hang one of these maps on your wall, something changes. You trace coastlines. You swap stories. You start planning again.
Over time, the map becomes more than art. It’s a quiet reminder of what matters to you, especially when life gets noisy.
Maybe you take another trip. Maybe you get out a little more often. Maybe you remember why salt water matters to you. That’s the point.