Most of our life on land we spend hiding from ourselves. But at sea there is no escape – Nikki Henderson

Nikki Henderson

Why sail offshore? Often it’s to magnify your life. The bigger question is, will you like what you see?

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Ahoy there, from halfway to the Caribbean! This is my third attempt at writing this column. The first go was interrupted by a squall. We underestimated its strength, surfed down a wave at 19 knots and then spent the rest of the watch slightly overly vigilant, as if that would make up for our previous 35-knot misjudgement.

Attempt No2 was on my 0300-0600 watch. After a coffee, several snacks, meandering down the B&G settings menu with no purpose, and two log entries made exactly to the minute on the hour, I conceded that writing was not a sufficiently ‘staying-awake’ activity – and stepped outside to stargaze.

With Starlink I quickly realised I could log in every day – and yes, write an article about sailing, for sailors, while sailing – but I could also follow the Vendée Globe tracker, and see the solo racers thrashing about in the Southern Ocean, hitting speed records, and sleeping in 20-minute intervals. Their concerns are in a different league to mine, moaning about 35 knots or struggling to write a column on a 3am watch. So, having put my ‘struggle’ into perspective (in other words, comparative luxury) I’m knuckling down.

Offshore sailing has a way of putting your life, and your ‘problems’, into perspective. A sailing friend of mine, Sophie, once told me that offshore sailing is a magnifier for your romantic relationship. It exposes the cracks and blows them up, like it does for the boat itself. You don’t go to sea to save your relationship, you go to sea to find out what needs work!

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Going to sea magnifies your reality. My crewmate, George, and I were comparing sailing to his previous life in the US marine core. Just as on the front line, at sea problems aren’t self-manufactured, they’re real. The watermaker breaking and the risk of running out of water is real. Big winds, ferocious seas, broken sails and a broken boat are risks that require real management every day. And, as we were reminded by the tragic news from this year’s ARC, going overboard and being lost at sea is a real possibility too.

That realness pulls us into the present. The lack of convenience, security and comfort and the focus this ‘real’ life requires, the less time we have to spend worrying about all the things we normally worry about. Being caught up in being ‘busy’, social expectations, how we look, what car we drive… Once we’re separated from all of that we cannot help but ask ourselves: what is actually important to me?

What I’ve seen during my career is that we all basically have the same answer. Strip away all the luxuries and – beyond food, water, and a dry bed – the most important thing in all our lives is love. People, pets, special places, and perhaps a few meaningful trinkets; when you are out here, you realise who and what you miss. It’s who we cannot stop thinking about. Survival and connection: it’s all we really need.

But as Sophie so aptly observed, magnifying your life isn’t always comfortable. It highlights weak points and chasms. We realise how much time we’ve wasted on meaningless endeavours. Offshore we find clarity on what, or even who, we need to let go of.

But without a doubt, the most challenging part of reality to face out here is ourselves.

Most of our life on land we spend hiding from ourselves. But at sea there is no escape. Eventually your baggage, stress, uncomfortable thoughts, character traits – good and bad – will be reflected back at you. At sea the confined space, the intensity of the experience, and the sheer presence it requires, blow YOU up onto the big screen.

Even with Starlink now providing us with the greatest distraction known to humankind (the internet), there is still no avoiding the mirror that’s held out here. Because a power even greater than the internet – Mother Nature – still dominates. So eventually we have to take a long, hard look at ourselves.

As George and I discussed, not only do we have to look but we also have to work through what we see. Because some of those scars we bear, habits and personality traits, can get in the way of dealing with the ‘real’ problems at hand.

And here lies the gold mine to be found at sea: an opportunity to fundamentally change who you are and how you see the world. There’s treasure out here, come and take a look…

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