👉Where the Heart Is…
Where is home when you are afloat? Home is where the heart is always!
Click on the title to read more
6/27/20265 min read
Home is where the heart is - I’ve used this expression so often without really thinking about it, but after having a week off Novera and spending time back on land, I’ve realised my heart is definitely at sea.
I absolutely loved catching up with everyone and really missed all the regular chats and hugs. But I also can’t believe how quickly I’ve adapted to life afloat—and just how much I’ve grown to love it.
As a child, we never moved house or changed schools very often, so change always felt like a big deal. I used to say to Tim, who has always been the adventurous one, “I just need a base to feel safe.” For years I thought that base was the bricks and mortar we’d loved and lived in for the last 25 years.
But I’ve realised home isn’t a place.
Home is the hug you get like you’ve never been away. It’s family and friends. It’s doing the things that make you happy. And, somehow, it’s also a floating home called Novera.
So we’re back “home”. She survived the week without us, although she did pick up a little battle scar from another boat’s melted fender (which required plenty of scrubbing) and a bump from a neighbouring boat that got caught by the wind. She’s a tough old girl though, and with a little TLC she’s ready for part two of our adventures.
Being back on land also gave Tim far too much opportunity to “improve” the boat with his 3D printer… and our Amazon delivery driver has probably wondered what on earth we’ve been up to!
We now have cup holders, magnetic mosquito net frames, a Starlink pole, a new toilet section, a Ring camera, a WiFi router… honestly, our checked suitcase contained virtually no clothes and weighed about 18kg in boat parts! 🤣
Our return couldn’t have been better. We arrived back in Roses just as the Festival of Saint Joan’s Eve was in full swing. It was probably every health and safety officer’s worst nightmare—children armed with an endless supply of firecrackers, fireworks exploding in every direction, and families picnicking all along the beach—but it created the most fantastic atmosphere.
Having not got carried away for a change, we were up early ready to move on. We needed to stock up—yes, we’d run out of beer and tuna! Two vital requirements. 😊
Our first stop was an anchorage just 20 miles away to break up the journey back to France and give us a chance to try out the paddleboard we’d brought back from the UK.
Port de la Selva is a lovely open bay with what looks like a beautiful historic town, although we never made it ashore. That hadn’t been the plan anyway, especially as it was rather windy when we arrived.
The last time we’d anchored, a wire had snapped on the anchor pedal, so with a smile I stood on it and lowered the anchor completely incident-free. It seemed to catch, although the seabed was very weedy.
Happy with that, we quickly got our swim gear on to cool off. Tim jumped on the paddleboard and gave Novera’s hull a little TLC.
All seemed calm and peaceful until our anchor alarm suddenly pierced the silence.
We were dragging… and quite quickly!
There was no time for one of our usual discussions about the best approach because there were boats all around us. With a slight sense of panic, we started the engine while hauling up what turned out to be an enormous clump of weed attached to the anchor.
We moved to another spot, hoping to find a patch of sand.
“Can you see a good spot?” shouted Tim.
With the wind whipping up the water it was impossible to tell.
We tried again.
No. 😒
Again…No. 😒
Thankfully, third time really was lucky.
I jumped in to swim along the anchor chain to check whether it had dug in properly, only to nearly get run over by what felt like every paddleboard, kayak and jet ski in the bay! Clearly, this wasn’t the time for a leisurely swim.
After a few hours we finally relaxed enough to trust that everything was holding. We watched a beautiful sunset before heading to bed ready for the long passage the following morning.
Our next stop was Gruissan. The last time we arrived here was back in early April, and let’s just say… we had a few moments. 🤣
This time we sailed in, moored up without any drama, looked at each other and simply said, “Well… that went well.”
Sometimes you don’t realise how much you’ve learned until a moment like that reminds you. It was lovely to see just how far we’ve come.
It’s also great to be back in France. We loved Spain, but I never quite managed to get in sync with Spanish meal times. Lunch at 2pm and dinner at 9 or even 10pm… meanwhile, in France (rather like the UK), those are the times restaurants are thinking about closing the kitchen! So a fabulous indulgent lunch at 1pm suited me perfectly… and yes, we’re firmly back on the rosé! 🍷
We’ve got a few longer passages ahead as we make our way towards our next big adventure—Corsica and Sardinia.
The sail from Roses to Gruissan was 48 miles and took us around eight hours. Back in April, the thought of sailing that far would have seemed completely impossible. Now, after several overnight passages, you realise sailing isn’t about getting somewhere quickly or taking the shortest route. You learn to embrace the slower pace.
It’s not a race.
Next stop is La Grande-Motte, where we’ll be staying for a week. The weather charts are currently glowing bright red in our direction, with high winds and storms on the way, so we’ll happily sit those out.
After all… it’s not a race.
So the plan is a few boat jobs, a trip into Montpellier, and another place to call home—for at least a week.
If you want to comment or get in touch why not send us an email -
✉️hayley@sailingnovera.com
Follow us
© 2025. All rights reserved.