This is a work of fiction. It reflects my personal thoughts which are reserved and does not in any manner suggest truths about sailing or any other water activity. It is loosely based on my readings of some materials written by Stuart Woods interspersed with my suppositions, experiences working with others, and, possibly, humor. It should not be considered too seriously or used as a basis for any outdoor activities.

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Good morning. My name is Joe. And I recently participated in a sailing competition, a trans-Atlantic trip by sailboat. A competition with all types of craft starting at a single point and ending at a common point in the shortest time possible. I did not try for speed but only to see if I could complete the trip. I owned a sailboat, but I really wasn’t an experienced sailor. But I wanted to share some experiences with you.

As I lay in bed last night, listening to a storm, I asked myself if I was insane. Not because I feared the thunder and lightning or even the winds alone. Instead, it was because of the combination of wind, water, and my intent to join others sailing across the Atlantic. I thought of the rocky coastline and how the waves crashed against it. Throwing water twenty, thirty, forty or more feet into the air followed by the water falling is smaller droplets back into the sea. What would these same forces do to the unfortunate human caught in their path?

I could be that human. For an unknown reason, I had taken up the sport of sailing. After a few short years, I now owned a boat and had decided that I was expert enough to join a group in a trans-Atlantic crossing. Did I really have the skills, ability, and knowledge to do this?

A few days later, in a small group of friends gathered in a nearby pub. All were intent on crossing the Atlantic capturing the power of the wind in our sails. Talk centered on those who had done so in the past along with those who were not successful. Some safely returned to port, others were lost at sea and never found, still others lost their lives. The group could not define what motivated them to try.

As I sat, listening to this group, I asked myself the same question. Why was I here? An American in a foreign country. A person who grew up not on a coast, not with a history of sailing, not even dreams of sailing as a child. What enticed me about this adventure? I did not know even half of what these others knew. Perhaps I would know more when the trip started of even decide, sanely, that I should not make the attempt.

The trip was scheduled to start the next morning, but the sea was calm. There was no wind. Nothing to power the ships out of the bay, much less across the ocean. The preparations were not wasted. All simply had to wait for the wind. Those with small boats and those with the large, expensive craft were equal that morning. No wind meant no sailing. Perhaps another day would be spent in the pub. Or better, in last minute double checking of all preparations. The same happened the two following days.

Was God or Karma trying to tell me something? Was there a reason for the delays? I did not have an answer. All I knew was that each passing day was causing me to have more doubts and more anxiety.

The weekend arrived and along with it, light breezes. Enough wind to make sailing possible. The result was a traffic jam that would match any on the freeways of America’s largest cities. The difference was that the traffic was a huge number of sail craft, all trying to escape the bay through limited space with less ability to avoid other craft trying to do the same. The bay was a madhouse. At last, all were at sea and moving toward their selected route to America. Voyages like that of Columbus or the Vikings. Powered not by modern technology but only by the wind.

Common sense seemed to have evaded me. Here I was, amid this confusion and rush to start a dangerous journey from the U.K. to the U.S., not by plane or by cruise ship but alone in my small sailboat.  Would I be successful, or would I be one of the many who did not?

As each intrepid traveler left port they had a choice, they could follow the shorter northern route across the Atlantic. While shorter, this route was the riskiest because of the potential for storms, much like those that kept me awake a few nights earlier. Stormy conditions were not good in any ship but were especially dangerous for sailing craft. Travelers could also choose the southern route which was longer but did not have as great a risk for storms. But there was some risk on both routes and no matter which was chosen there was limited opportunity to turn back.

While I was not averse to risk, I selected the southern route. This seemed to better fit my skills, and it also provided the opportunity to stop at islands along the way should stress or other problems arise.

The days of travel began for all. Unlike land travel, there was little scenery to distract one. Once one had sailed out of sight of land, there was only water until the next port came into sight. Or perhaps one should say there was only water and the boat. Just as in a home, there were daily chores that needed accomplishment. But on a boat, they could not be delayed. These were things like maintenance, navigation, and care for oneself. A sick crew like a sick boat would only cause failure.

As I approached the trip, I spent many hours wondering what would be involved. For a boat the size of mine on a good day (no storms, no equipment failures, no sickness, etc.) I believed daily chores would take more than six hours. Sleep would take about eight hours. So how would I occupy myself for the other ten hours each day? Would part of this time be spent on introspection or perhaps contemplation of things like the meaning of life? Could part of the time be spent reading? And, if so, how much added weight would be added to the boat for books or other reading materials? Could time be spent writing? Would communication with relatives and friends be possible? I really didn’t know the answers to these questions. What supplies, including food and drink, would accompany me? And, again, how much weight would be added and where would it be stored? What would happen if I became sick? Again, no real answers were apparent. So, what did I do? I spent hours talking to those who had made the trip previously. Possibly, no, probably, making a pest of myself but taking their advice and hoping to learn. Now this preparation would be put to the test.

For those following the southern route, the first possible stopping point came several days later. Some arrived at this point quickly, restocked, and went back to sea quickly. Others spent a few days on land resting before continuing. Still others decided that the trip was not important, or maybe not possible, and returned to the U.K. The trip had been safe with gentle breezes and mostly good weather. While here, travelers could share information about those on other routes or in other places. Unfortunately, this was not always good news. The northern route had been hit by many storms and lives had been lost. Some were unaccounted for. In many ways, this was typical of previous voyages.

Although there were only a few of those making the trip who were familiar to me, I did find that some were lost. I could only offer my sympathy to their families. But in their honor, I continued. I also received good news about those who had passed through ahead of me. While I was not the fastest traveler, I felt good that I had be successful to this point and hoped that things would continue to go well. After a short rest stop, I continued my trip.

 The trip continued for many and after days at sea or at islands along the way, the U.S. came into sight. For the fastest it was a great success and a time of reward. For others, success was a more personal thing. They had set out on a voyage that presented a challenge and whether they were among the fastest or amid the “also rans”, they had achieved something done by few others. Some might return the following years to try yet again, perhaps for speed or to follow a different route. Some might look for other challenges, in either sailing or other activities. Others might simply enjoy whatever life presented them.

In my case, I am in the latter group. My boat has been sold. I am now a “land lubber.” I enjoyed my time at sea yet, I’m not sure I could enjoy a similar experience now or in the future. I remain friends with many I met on or through this adventure. And I miss greatly those who were lost because of the trip. But to all, I wish gentle breezes, smooth water, and great sailing.