It was a trip full of highlights, during which we got to know our wonderful boat, a Garcia Exploration 45, and began to familiarize ourselves with our new life on the water. There were tears at the start, as we sailed down the English Channel in December. We had set up a red-card system so that anyone could ask to close this chapter of the adventure without facing any questions, on the basis of a simple intuition. In those first moments, Tracey had decided to keep hers close at hand, in her back pocket, knowing that the other option was to stay at the marina in the middle of winter, for up to three weeks. Motivated by the presence of a favorable weather window on the other side of the Bay of Biscay, we opted for the long crossing, which would of course begin with strong headwinds. We were going to endure shock treatment in the short term, hoping to reap the benefits in the long term.
The first night was very rough, but we played to the strength of the team, so I was able to cover the worst of it. In the early hours of a dark, cold and turbulent night, we rounded the tip of Brittany and were finally able to set sail. As we entered our new life, Ushant and the mainland seemed to fade away and bid us farewell. A hearty breakfast put the night behind us, while the clear skies and rising sun indicated that it was time to take the new spinnaker out of its bag and hoist all the canvas. The ensuing thrill set the tone for the next two and a half years: we'd made the right decision.
It would be wrong to say that our adventure began in Ushant, because the truth is that it began a few years before we first set foot on the deck of "Pearl". On reflection, it seems that an adventure has three parts: anticipation, participation and conclusion. The first two are wonderful in that they offer complete immersion in a new, exciting and life-affirming world. The last part can be rewarding, but it can also be a bitter experience if you haven't considered the full life cycle of your adventure from the outset. Ending this cycle, as we did, with an easy sale of your boat at a satisfactory price can be the icing on the cake, as it paves the way for the next chapter.
Making the right choice
The success of these three parts depends on the choice of boat, so be careful not to be seduced by pretty stories, marketing promises or the prospect of a too-quick conclusion. Strip away your idea of a cruise and really think about what you want to achieve. Make sure you both get what you need based on your different aspirations. We've seen partners crushed by a one-sided choice.
Take your time, go for a walk, share a bottle of wine, read, chat with others, watch YouTube, go on a charter vacation - whatever it takes to be radically honest with yourself and with each other.
This clarity of vision, and this alone, will ensure that you choose the right boat: from then on, your plans can evolve, whereas the boat cannot. So make the right choice.
In our case, we were fortunate to be able to draw on my past experience as an ocean racing competitor who had built many boats. This in-depth knowledge enabled us to see through the smoke and mirrors of glossy marketing. Your boat may be beautiful to look at, but the truth is that it's a piece of engineering. A machine in which you live and nurture, as you set out to take her to the destinations of your dreams. Most boats are designed for weekend cruising, with lots of bunks, not enough storage, tanks too small, a structure too light and ultimately the need to coexist with those who haunt marinas. We wanted a well-designed boat that could take care of us, be reliable, withstand storms and be a comfortable, welcoming home.
Should we meet the boat's needs or should the boat meet ours?
I'd say that, as far as we're concerned, it all hinges on a subtle tipping point. Should we respond to the boat's needs, or should the boat respond to ours? This may seem a strange statement, but it's based on meeting so many sailors who devote all their time, resources and emotions to moving their boats forward. It's interesting to note that many of these are new boats, not built to the required standards in terms of quality of life on board and choice of equipment. A minor repair in Europe can mean two or three weeks of costly frustration in foreign ports. Parts, having been held in customs, often don't fit because of a simple modification. It's devastating to see your dreams cut so short.
We hadn't been able to find a model to suit our needs, and had resigned ourselves to building our own boat, until I came across the Garcia Exploration 45. Delayed on my flight to Singapore, I had treated myself to an issue of Yachting World reporting on the launch of this model.
I was bursting with excitement and called Tracey to tell her I'd found the boat of our dreams. It was only two years later that we sailed down the dock to the centerpiece of our new life, and it was beautiful, wasn't it?
All those years of building a career, raising a family and being sensible were swept away. The time had come for us to give ourselves permission to do what many considered a folly. Standing on that pontoon to greet "Pearl", we at the same time put a few timid and cold naysayers in their place. We were like children again, and remained so for the next two and a half years, especially as we were mature enough to enjoy a sunset!
A challenge to oneself
Tracey was the bravest, having only done two night sails up to that point, so it was a big leap for her. In many ways, we were very different, in that I love the journey, whereas she loves the destination. She hadn't shown the slightest impatience at the idea of crossing the Atlantic. It was undoubtedly a challenge she'd like to have taken up, but for her the lure of exploring the other side was far superior. The promise of wilderness, new friends and the discovery of foreign lands held a powerful attraction for her. Since the children had left home, she felt she had freed up time that could, and indeed should, be devoted to meeting a new and stimulating challenge. A new perspective on life, probably.
I'd never been on a cruise before and had the idea in the back of my mind that it wouldn't be enough for me.
Our Atlantic crossing was incredible, in that it allowed Tracey to blossom, even as we inaugurated a new way of life on the high seas.
For someone who has never experienced this, it takes some time to forget the destination and live the day to the full. Life is the moment, and living in the moment is a wonderful state of mind. If there's one particular moment Tracey will remember, it was our encounter with a pair of inquisitive minke whales in the middle of the Atlantic. Charles and Camilla, these "whales", stayed with us for three days, sometimes just a few metres from the boat as they surfed alongside us.
My concerns on arrival in Antigua were misplaced, in the sense that I was completely absorbed by this new approach to sailing. We had read that long-distance cruising consists of twenty percent of time spent sailing and eighty percent spent at anchor or exploring during stopovers. Two and a half years later, we'd agree that, if sailing isn't really your thing, think of it as an enabler. Something that offers you a comfortable home, enjoying a breathtaking view normally reserved for millionaires. In fact, sailing offers you an incredible variety of millionaire vistas, while those mansions that swarm along the coast have no escape but to sulk, ringed by their manicured lawns, while you sail off into the sunset.
A spirit of sharing
Over time, empathy and patient accompaniment, which we preferred to criticism, bridged the gap between us in terms of sailing knowledge. We discovered, like a well-oiled machine, that we could undertake complex maneuvers in complicit silence. Tracey came to love sailing; the oceans no longer represented for her a fear of the unknown, and became a place that nourished her soul. Night watches may never be her favorite, but they've lost their intimidating quality. Our lives came into harmony with the seasons, as we followed the sun in its annual cycle. Date constraints lost their importance as our relationship with time took on a new meaning.
The slower we travelled, the richer our experience became, as the flexibility we acquired opened up new opportunities: free to seize the impromptu. An eagle's nest, a perfectly contoured reef, the meeting of new people or nothing more than our own judgement of the beauty of this or that place: all these things simply helped us to be.
One of our goals in this venture was to meet new friends, so we were delighted to discover that we had joined an incredibly generous community. In the two and a half years we've been cruising, we've made more lifelong friends of all ages and nationalities than in our previous ten years ashore. Each of us looks out for the other, so as never to find ourselves alone or stuck without a way out. It's common practice to share our experiences around convivial sunsets, which of course leads to the discovery of often fascinating stories. Anyone who, by definition, chooses to go on a cruise will be bright-eyed and infectiously enthusiastic. In fact, that's one of the main things we're missing right now, as we prepare to build our next boat with the aim of exploring Europe's coast, rivers and canals.
This article is the first in a column by British sailor, author and adventurer Pete Goss.
Find out more about Pete Goss on his official website.
