‘‘I would hope that we won’t capsize, but if we do, you need to grab Freddy and swim out from underneath,’ said my dad as we sat huddled in the Wayfarer.
I looked at my stepbrother, he was eight, I was sixteen. He didn’t look as concerned about this as I was. I hoped that sisterly instinct would kick in should we be plunged into the Solent’s chilly May water and that I’d focus more on saving his life than panicking about my own. I eyed up the Lymington to Yarmouth ferry as it trundled past in a mess of wash and prayed we’d never have to find out.’
I have been writing a travel memoir for the past year, telling the story of how I, a non-sailor, found myself sailing around the Atlantic.
Far from grabbing the adventure with both hands, I was dogged by doubt, a belief that I wasn’t a ‘sailor’, never would be and that I was in no way capable of such an undertaking. I believed the ocean was out to get me, that weather needed to be battled and that I would be forever ruled by the anxiety that plagued me. And yet, in the face of my uncertainty, I discovered more about myself and the world then I could possibly have imagined.
This book covers the adventure that I undertook together with my partner on our small, 40 year old boat. I hope that it will allow others to see that they don’t have to be ‘born adventurers’ and that even some of the most isolated parts of this world are open to you – all you need to do is go.