Crossing an Ocean
In the end, one remembers the peaceful nights, the winking stars, and the birds escorting us…
Nicolas, Philipp, and I sailed across the Atlantic ocean in 26 days (11.12.21 – 05.01.22), and everything went well. Nothing really broke, Amae made it through just fine, and we had a great time together. Being three on board was perfect. We started the watch at 8 p.m., ran three-hour shifts, and rotated every day to have some variation. Every shift had its beauties.
We arrived in Martinique the 5th of January, where Anouk was waiting for us with some Ti'Punch. In the following days, we explored the beautiful island together. From a sailor's perspective, Martinique is fantastic too. There are many chandleries, the people are friendly, the work efficient and the sailing community with its many liveaboards great. An excellent start to our Caribbean adventure, I would say!
Regarding the crossing, I definitely thought and worried far too much beforehand. But it would be easy to gloss over everything in retrospect. The journey was long. Very long. For almost a month, we were surrounded solely by different shades of blue. In the last 20 days, we saw two cargo ships. That was it. It teaches you patience.
Somewhat surprisingly, I was never scared; the conditions were good enough. But the high waves, being dependent on your ten-meter boat, and the seeming infinity around you are impressive. You feel small, and that's a good thing.
I would have thought that there was something spiritual about crossing an ocean. That I would have time for myself, time to become one with nature, time to forget the world spinning too fast. But that didn't really happen. I was too busy doing nothing. This may sound strange… some sailors will know what I am talking about. In short: I tried not to get seasick by sitting still, made up for lack of sleep by doing nothing, hoped for things beyond my control (great weather, perfect wind, whales), and tried to win the mental battle against the whispering voice in my head "Why on Earth are you doing this?". For the most part, I won the battle. But it wasn't a piece of cake.
The morning after our nightly arrival in Martinique, we were surrounded by wonderful, lush green mangroves and turquoise water. I had already forgotten the exhausting time at sea. On the contrary, it felt great to arrive in such a marvelous place with nothing but wind and sail. (I still hope that the next crossing won't happen too soon 🤫😇)
Today I look back at our ups and downs with a smile. The Instant-Noodle-Days (when the waves kept us from cooking), our Frustration-Madeleines (for frustrating moments), the fishing, the Christmas curry with fresh mahi-mahi, the gentle sunrise, the playful dolphins, the Portuguese Man o' War, the bioluminescence, the ocean dip, the apéro time, the clouds changing shape, the smell of fresh bread, the full moon, the half-moon, the crescent moon, the new moon, the night sky, flying plates and us laughing about it.
The beauty of such a journey is that you appreciate the little things. Observing the birds, watching the huge swell gently carrying the boat up and down, listening to the whispers at shift change… and not to forget all the small gestures from my two crewmen (like unfolding the sheet so I could just slip in after my watch or holding my leg when seasickness hit me). Having shared the adventure with them made this trip even more special.
So here we are, happy and healthy in the Caribbean tropics, looking forward to new discoveries and encounters.
Many smiles,
Kristel
