My Atlantic Trip, 10 ways I stayed entertained!

1. Reading and Journalling

2. Cooking

3. Fishing

4. Playing games and listening to music

5. Learning something new

6. Trimming the sails and fixing things

7. Arts and crafts

8. Cleaning

9. Staying ‘fit’

10. Taking a nap

1. Reading and Journalling

If you’re like me and struggle to keep up the ritual of reading in ‘normal’ life then on a boat is the best way to force yourself to start. Even the worst procrastinator will eventually pick up a book over a 17 day offline stretch. Crossing the Atlantic I read 5 books, which is surprisingly few given the time we had. In actual fact you find yourself quietly content just lounging, having stop-start conversations with those in the cockpit, and working through every odd thought that pops into your head. I have never questioned, pondered, and wondered so much since I was a kid. I loved it. I do have one book recommendation though, ‘Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow’ by Gabrielle Zevin. It is a story about two friends, who maintain a platonic friendship from childhood to adulthood. Although there is contemplation of becoming something more, they never cross that boundary. Having met at a young age, they traverse life together and become business partners. They are both extremely intelligent, but opinionated and stubborn which causes them to feud for long stretches of the book. Not being a gamer myself I was surprised at how much I liked this book. Their shared infatuation with creating virtual worlds acted as the perfect hinge in which their ‘love’ story evolved and I would really recommend giving it a read!

The concept of journalling has also never been something I have stuck to. There is so much content online offering up useful tips on how to journal, and raving about the positive effects on mental health, but I remained sceptical. As someone that waffles, I used to list everything about my day, and never got as far as jotting down constructive thoughts that might help me understand why I'm feeling a certain way, or point me in the right direction of what’s next for me. A trip is a good way to get away with doing just that because you want to remember everything you got up to. It also helps to be surrounded with other people similarly journalling. On the Atlantic, the french boys and I organically started writing in the evenings together before the watch system started up, and it felt nice to fall into that ritual together.

Since being home, I have kept up the habit. Instead of writing a narrative of my day (don’t get me wrong I do still slip into this sometimes), I try to talk more about how I’m feeling, and roll back any negativity from that day with some positive words from wise old me. As I am living back at home, I can very easily get into the mindset that I am on the wrong path because i'm not moving to the big city, or getting a ‘proper’ adult job. I find it funny that I continuously get asked what is next for me after this year out? I don’t see it that way at all. Since leaving uni every move I've made is to try and figure what is next, and the implication behind a ‘year out’ is that I have got that on hold. I should tell them, this isn’t a year out, this is just how i'm choosing to crack on with my life… although I never have obviously. Sidetrack over. The evenings really help me surrender that thought, and focus on why home is the best place for me to be. I am by the sea so I can still sail when I want, race train through the local sailing clubs, study and train for an offshore yachtmaster, re-fit a loaned yacht called Black Sheep which is only 15 minutes away, work at a pub part-time, do some film work for a local film production company, and spend time with family. All that is what excites me at the moment, so I know i'm in the right place.

2. Cooking and Baking

We caught enough fish to have one meal out of it every day, give or take. More fish meant less pasta, which we had a tendency to rely on otherwise. As I was the only English speaker on board I thought it was only right that I treated everyone as close to a traditional fish and chips as I could get. I had eggs and flour but no bread so cornflakes was offered up as an alternative. I also boiled some potatoes as a side. Not quite thick cut chips, but I don’t really like the soggy ones you get from a chippy anyway, unless they’re salty, crispy, and doused in mayonnaise. We managed to find some mustard mayonnaise from the store cupboard. Absolutely delicious!

I can’t take credit for any of the cake making, but I would say one was put out every other day. This was really if a day had been particularly quiet, as everyone could get together early in the afternoon in the cockpit with a hot drink and cake. It was a good moment to chat, reflect, and regain some energy if you had just woken up from a nap or hadn’t really engaged in anything that day. Snacking and tea and coffee drinking was a big thing for me. It was always a pick me up to be offered anything, and you would always make an effort to return the favour at a good time. 

The parents also spent most of the trip perfecting their bread making skills. They made a loaf to be ready for the morning on most days. I think they had a problem with density because they didn’t have the right yeast. Even so, it was a fun little project to keep busy with and it meant we could all give little reviews and show our support. 

3. Fishing

Fishing is an ‘exciting’ part of the boat life at sea, especially when you ACTUALLY catch a fish…! The rest of the time you tend to forget that the line is even out and the loud alert when the brakes are pulled, signalling a fish on the line, startles everyone into action. On the crossing, we had two rods, one on each corner of the stern. We took turns putting the line out when we were running low on fish. I was a bit of an amateur, and it took time for me to master the technique of reeling without clumping all the line in one mound. Now, when it comes to having a fish on the line, we had a process. If the Genoa was out, we would divide the jobs to bring it in pronto. This would slow the boat down and make it easier to reel. One person would use the boat hook to skewer the fish, for lack of a better word, sorry! Then the fish could be held down and put out of its misery with a knife through the brain. I more recently learnt that vodka in the gills can also be a good technique for a swift death. The gutting role was also divided out. We caught a mixture of Mahi Mahi and Wahoo, of which I gutted only one of around the 6 caught in total. I think the quality of my filleting was high (as first time efforts go). I certainly wouldn’t have won any awards for speed, but maybe one for a humorous running commentary. It was an amusing spot to find yourself in, as to gut the fish we would have to kneel on the transom (the very back of the boat), with only a safety line dividing you and the Atlantic Ocean!

4. Playing games and listening to music

Several packs of cards is a must have on every sail boat. Whilst waiting on the fishing line we often played Go Fish (manifesting that catch!). It is a childhood classic, and a good one if you want to keep the cards in your hand, with the refill stack weighted down, to avoid them being blown away. Now this did get a little tedious, so it is important to have a lot of options up your sleeve. Spit is a great one for two players, and gets the adrenaline going if you need an energy boost. Alternatively, a card game like Hearts or Gin Rummy, when you can keep score, are perfect ones to drag out a little competition on board.

If you want a peaceful moment to yourself, popping some headphones in and listening to some throwback songs or personal favourites is a lifesaver. These were the reflective moments I felt the most grounded and appreciative of where I was and who I was with. It is also fun to share headphones with someone, or swap phones so you can explore their music and vice versa, especially when you have no connection. No downloading any new releases or discover weekly playlists on spotify!

The most laughs came from blowing up the little cockpit paddling pool for the kids. We had buckets and spades, and rubber ducks with pickup sticks. It was all part of the master plan to give the kids a wash, especially the 3 year old who hated having cold ish water splashed over her head. But when distracted by the rubber duckies, she could have some soap rubbed into her hair, and remain more or less oblivious.

It also became a game to catch seaweed for the boys who were separating and weighing the three morphotypes for the SargaSea research programme. They eventually built a net but at first we were just using the boathook. I would act as a lookout on the deck and make a bird noise to alert the boys on the stern to a patch passing by. They  would then sweep in a bunch if they were quick enough (normally a couple of strands at a time..!). So as you can imagine this went on for quite some time, and was wildly entertaining if you can believe it.

5. Learning something new

Being on a French speaking boat, a big goal of the voyage was to practice my speaking. Like most Brits, I grew up learning French but ditched it for Spanish at GCSEs. It is still the language I feel I have the most vocabulary for. Naively, I thought my suppressed dictionary would resurface, spill out, and by the end of the trip I'd be fluent. I even had the comfort of a bunch of downloaded french learning prompts and an offline google translate. Delusional confidence? I think so. I had an angel vs devil on my shoulder moment for most of the trip. One part of me would think, ‘speak,’ and the other would shout back ‘NOOO it will make no sense’. Ashamedly, the devil part won out on most occasions, and it was a running joke that I just about mustered ‘Merci Beaucoup’ over the whole trip. There were a few pros; my understanding of French improved for sure, and I definitely helped out with the rest of the crew’s English. But sadly my fluency will have to wait for another weather window.

An important part of a sailor's skill box has to be knot tying, so why not start the kids off early. One of the French boys was great at teaching the older daughter, and they spent hours practicing clove hitches from the cockpit. She would squeal in delight every time she got it right and became  an expert by the end of the voyage!

Another great thing to improve upon on a long voyage is navigation. Both the French boys were really interested in mastering the sextant, and we helpfully had one on board. Pretty much every day it would be taken out to take sights just before midday, the necessary time period to make the calculations. One of the boys even used a white board to give the whole boat a little lesson from the cockpit. On one occasion it was left flat on the cockpit bench. I waltzed up the stairs and in motion with the boat swung myself into the seat landing on top of said sextant. I leapt up in horror, not knowing at first what it was, more so in pain from being impaled by a sharp ish object. My horror turned to dread as I immediately thought I must have done it in, and I knew they don’t come cheap. Plus, it’s not like we can Amazon prime a new one in the middle of the ocean! Luckily, there was only a tiny crack that could be fixed with some tape, and didn’t appear to be detrimental to its functionality. Phew!

I still can’t pretend to fully understand it (hence the lack of picture of me taking sights) but it was fun to try and learn something new and I am keen to master it in the future.

6. Trimming the sails and fixing things

I imagine an outsider visualising an ocean crossing might believe you magically stop somewhere at night, take the sails down, have a leisurely dinner, sleep, wake up, and go again. That is far from the reality, sailing is 24/7. If you want to keep moving, the sail must be attended to!

As there is not normally a huge amount to do, every tweak or change in sail setting feels like a big deal. A change in wind speed or direction normally queues up a relatively relaxed but ongoing debate, until enough energy is rallied up to actually put into action the discussed fix. Then it is a race to volunteer for the various tasks, from most active to least, and the latter normally resting a hand on a rope to feel involved. Whilst there are often only a few jobs to go round, everyone was pretty good at sharing these and giving everything a go. After all, that is how you learn best!

In the Gibsea 44, we had the main, the genoa, solent sail, and asymmetric spinnaker to play with for the downwind sailing. For example, in the lighter winds at the beginning of the passage we hoisted our red spinnaker, accompanied by the main. It was fun to have the spin up because it looked magnificent and created jobs, as it had to be constantly monitored. On the 5th day the spinnaker itself ripped, which triggered the boat to heel, and caused havoc in the saloon as tea and dishes scattered over everyone below and across the floor! From then on we chose between the stay sail and genoa in accompaniment with the main. We had a DIY wooden pole out, and often used this to pin the chosen foresail on opposite sides to the main (goose-winging), or have it up on its own. We only did the latter at night in really low winds when the main sail was clanking and making a riot. Not good for a family with two little kids who are all trying to get a good night's sleep! The wooden pole, with the backdrop of the blue water horizon, was spectacular. The first did snap at one point, but the spare was attached to what remained of the old, and it strengthened it enough to not pose a problem for the rest of the passage.

Of course, it is never plain sailing and things do break. Other than the spinnaker and pole, the only major problem was the autopilot. By the second half of the passage it was sticking a bit, and eventually the rudder sensor broke. At first, we thought this was a major problem and one of the French engineers plus the captain worked on it into the night. After no success, they tried the autopilot without the sensor and it appeared to work fine. For a moment though we thought we were going to have to self-helm the remaining 5 days or so which would have resulted in a lot less sleep!

7. Arts and crafts

Being on a family boat, this was a vital part of our morning routine. The 3 year old daughter would always do roughly an hour of school before a crafty activity. That often consisted of painting with old sponges from the boat. We would use clothes pegs to hang our masterpieces around the saloon until they dried. It gave way to a proper classroom feel after a fantastical art class.

One of my favourite moments was our Secret Santa exchange at sunset on Christmas eve, which was our biggest celebration yet. None of us had planned anything in advance of setting off so we could only use what we had available to us on the boat. I got the dad, aka the Captain. I thought I could make use of this role for my gift and decided to use a black headband and hand stitched ‘Capitan’ onto it during one of my night watches. It went down a treat, and he continued to wear it at different moments on the voyage. My secret santa was the three year old daughter, (helped by her mum!). She drew me a very sweet picture and then decorated an old jam jar with cut out adventure pictures, named shift box. Inside was some sweets as well as little pick me up quotes to read on watch during the night. It was adorable and the jar is now housed on my desk at home, a lovely memento to remember the trip by.

8. Cleaning

Now cleaning was the red herring of the trip. Although there was a designated person for each day it was very rarely talked about. I think this was purposeful, a consensus that it was a day off, unless there was something super obvious to be getting on with, like sweeping crumbs up in the cockpit. Everyone pretty much cleaned up after themselves otherwise things would have got disorderly pretty quickly on a 44 ft sailing boat with 7 people on board, including 2 kids.

A classic cleaning job was the oven. Cooking significant meals twice a day, in a little space on a moving boat, often resulted in a lot of spillages. Whether that be spillovers of pasta sauces, bits of veg hopping out the pan, or pancake mix drippage from the bowl, there was always muck under the grates. Plus, the underneath of the oven is quite hard to get at so it can make for a satisfying cleaning out the crevasses. A clean kitchen makes such a difference when you’re prepping for the next meal. The hangry crew around you can be satisfied quicker, and smiles all round!

9. Staying ‘fit’

This is a tricky one. Obviously, on a 44 ft boat with 7 people, and very little spacious flat surface, staying fit is going to have to take some creativity. A funny one to start with is the ‘reeler’ job. Every time we put the rod out we pretty much caught something. The process of bringing said catch on board was like circuit training. One person would have to winch in the genoa to slow the boat down. After, the next person would reel in the fish. We would put out 100m of line on average so this usually took a good 5 minutes with the poor fish thrashing around on the end. A third person would gut the fish. Depending on your skill, the size of the fish, and the weather conditions, it could take anywhere from 15 mins to an hour (the latter end of the spectrum in my case!).

In between these seismic events we had to find other ways of getting some exercise in. Now I can’t pretend we succeeded greatly at this, in fact it is a bit of a grey area which I would like to improve upon on my next voyage. My best attempts were stretching in the cockpit, or on the deck. This was dependent on the point of sail, the further to windward the more the boat heeled, and the more I'd have to reset after being thrown onto my side. On the other hand, it was great for balance and the core! One of the French boys quite successfully attached some rope to the mast and would do pull ups on the bow side, along with various other manoeuvres I can’t pretend to name.

Overall, fitness was not my number one priority, and over 17 days you can just about get away with brushing it under the carpet. Any longer, and I would have seriously considered building up more of a routine to keep those endorphins flowing, especially for those more miserable days where you can’t rely on the sun and beautiful horizon as a pick you up.

10. Taking a nap

You have to be wary of this one. Now I don’t really understand the science of the perfect nap, and I am aware that there is A LOT of advice out there, but I think you just have to tinker with it and find what works for you.

As all the adults, minus the mum, were waking up for a 3 hour solo watch every night, we were guaranteed to be tired. I also found that not doing a lot often makes you feel drowsy regardless. At first I didn’t really nap. I felt guilty for disappearing and thought it was misconstrued as lazy. I soon realised this wasn’t the case but I still never ended up getting into a routine of napping every day as it tended to make me feel more tired. There were times when it was a necessity, and on those occasions I would aim for 40 minutes in the afternoon. My more regular snooze was in the cockpit where it was cooler. I would prop my head up on a pillow, wack on an eye mask, and doze off, often until I was nudged aside to make more room for others emerging into the cockpit. 

…And there you have it folks! My Atlantic Trip in 10 stages.

Until next time,

Phoebs xx