👉Season one complete but am I a sailor now?

I often try to explain it to friends and family, but it’s difficult to capture something that is as much a feeling as an experience. So, as I sit here on our passage back to mainland France, watching the land fade into the horizon and blend into the clouds, the wind against my face and blowing my hair, I feel inspired to try.

When we first started this journey, there were so many noises and movements from the boat that put all my senses on high alert. Take the sails, for example, catching and spilling the wind. Such a vast expanse of heavy canvas flapping about can be louder than thunder. The lines fly and dance across the deck, the canvas thrusts outwards and then stops so suddenly that you feel sure something must surely rip.

The power of nature, and the challenge of harnessing it, is both exhilarating and frightening.

Then, as you fight and pull in the lines with all your strength, the sail fills, the telltales line up as if to salute you, and you see the beautiful shape of balanced sails. You feel Novera accelerate beneath you. Never did I think six knots could feel so fast!

Perhaps it’s because it’s nature and human engineering working together. I often tried to video the sails to capture their beauty, but as I tilted my camera upwards, they seemed never-ending, as though they were reaching for the sky. You feel so small beneath them.

I must confess, I found them intimidating. They need constant attention, and move a little too close to the wind and boy, do they let you know about it!

Then there is the wind itself. During those first few days, when we sensibly had some instruction (or rather, I did, as Tim seems to have sailing in his blood), our instructor Luc would ask me, “Hayley, where is the wind?”

I would panic. I’d look at the flag on the mast, but that didn’t help. The gauges were still a mystery, and my hair seemed to be blowing in every direction. I had absolutely no idea!

But the clues are everywhere when you allow yourself to see them. The patterns on the water, the direction of the waves, even the changing colours and textures on the surface. Nature tells you so much; I just wasn’t in tune with her.

And don’t get me wrong, I’m still learning the lyrics to her song, but I can sing the chorus now!

I thought I might read a book while we sailed, or perhaps find the prospect of eight hours in constant motion a long, tedious journey. In a car, you’re always looking forward to getting somewhere. You measure the journey by how quickly you can reach your destination.

But sailing is different. I found myself staring into the ocean for hours.

Like flames in a fire, the sea is in constant motion. Every wave is different, with patterns dancing across its surface. There is the sound of the water kissing the hull, or sometimes slapping it, droplets taking flight and, occasionally, even the appearance of tiny rainbows.

I would sit silently, lost in my thoughts, daydreaming into the distance.

At first, I was afraid of the depth beneath us. I’m still not sure I’d be brave enough to dive into it when we’re out in deep water. But I love swimming at anchor in five or six metres of water, and I feel safe in the cockpit of Novera. So, I don’t tend to think about the many, many metres beneath us.

Novera may not be the fastest boat, but she’s often described as the Land Rover of the seas, and that gives me confidence in her ability to look after us. I suppose I’ve parked some of my previous fears.

There is simply too much to enjoy on the surface to spend all my time worrying about what lies beneath.

And then there are the moments when we’re joined by those who live in the depths. Dolphins will never lose their magic. It always feels like a privilege when they come to say hello, leaping and playing alongside the boat. I could watch them for hours even though they stay for just a brief moment.

I love watching the birds, too. They swoop and skim across the water, sometimes looking as though they’re running along the surface. Who knew I was a twitcher? But apparently, I am! They fascinate me when we’re at sea (you may have noticed they are in most of our videos😊)

And as day turns to night, the colours change all over again. The setting sun lights up the horizon in so many shades of orange and red, far more than I ever had pencil crayons for. Then, not to be outdone, the moon appears, and the reds give way to silver.

Gradually, darkness envelops you. It surrounds you completely, revealing what feels like a million stars, usually hidden from us by modern life and its endless artificial light.

Distance and light take on a whole new meaning in the darkness. How far away is that light on the horizon when you have no points of reference? Everything looks different, and you realise just how little you can make sense of in the dark.

I’m not sure I would have been brave enough to navigate by the stars and a compass. Thankfully, modern technology allows us to navigate safely while still giving us the opportunity to relax and soak up the rare experience of seeing the world around us without light pollution.

Pure darkness, and a sky full of stars. It’s extraordinary how much you can see when there is no artificial light to get in the way.

So, what is it like to sail?

It’s never still or flat. You’re in constant motion, yet somehow your thoughts become still as you daydream into the horizon.

It can be uncomfortable, exhilarating, frightening and beautiful beyond words.

It’s not easy. It asks for your confidence, your concentration and your energy, and sometimes it challenges every bit of them. It pushes you out of your comfort zone and makes you question yourself, often just when you think you’ve got the hang of it!

But have I loved it? Oh my goodness, yes, yes, yes!

And that brings me back to the question I keep asking myself. Am I a sailor yet?

I still have so much to learn. I’m not the person who can instinctively read the wind or confidently explain every sound the boat makes. There are still plenty of moments when I look to Tim, hoping he knows what’s happening!

But I’ve come a long way from the woman who panicked when asked where the wind was coming from. I’ve learned to trust the boat, to listen to the sea and to find joy in the things that once made me nervous.

Perhaps being a sailor isn’t about knowing everything. Perhaps it’s about learning, adapting, respecting the sea and finding the confidence to enjoy the adventure, even when you don’t know quite what’s coming next.

If that’s the case, then perhaps I am becoming a sailor after all.

This may be the end of our first season aboard Novera, but it certainly isn’t the end of our adventure. We’ll be back, with more places to explore, more lessons to learn and, no doubt, more calamities to share!

And I really hope you’ll join us. All your comments, messages and likes have meant so much. They’ve helped us feel connected while we’ve been far away, reminding us that friendships really can span the miles.

Thank you for being part of our journey. ❤️

Until next time, fair winds from Novera! ⛵

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