The Dream and the Reality of Blue Spaces: The Search for Freedom in Offshore Sailing

Introduction

The constructs of freedom and escape have long been associated with voyages at sea. These themes continue to be relevant for those who choose to voyage aboard private sailing vessels to remote locations. Such voyages are often motivated by the desire to escape the pressures and “normality” of urban land-based living and to experience the freedom of exploring, sailing, and enacting a more relaxed and autonomous way of living. This paper reports on a study of a voyage undertaken by the primary author (PA) who set out to voyage from Malaysia via Indonesia to Queensland, Australia. In attempting this 6,000 nautical mile voyage, the crew aboard experienced a range of unexpected challenges. These experiences were recorded and shared by a journal/blog written aboard the yacht during the voyage and supplemented with videos and photographs. These autoethnographic data provide rich and insightful evidence regarding the lived experience of an offshore sailor. Data were reviewed and analyzed for common and important themes by both the PA (the yacht’s skipper) and a colleague, the second author (SA), who is an experienced cruising sailor. These findings are presented as a written conversation between the PA and SA; which is apt as the paper had its genesis over a coffee where issues of personal experiences and wider environmental/social issues were being discussed. This conversational interrogation of the data draws on Laurendeau’s (2011) work on masculinity and relational risk; we ultimately understand our actions in relation to the world we inhabit. A selection of blog postings is discussed with reference to the relevant literature as a way of analyzing the data via dialog. The ensuing discussion reveals that the values attached to the sea, as a space of freedom and escape from normality, are constructed and contested. This research contributes to the growing body of literature on blue spaces and the human–sea relationship that is gaining momentum in a range of disciplinary areas.

Blue Spaces

Foley et al. (2019) have recently detailed the increasing interdisciplinary interest in the affective, life-enhancing, and health enabling of “all things blue, including oceans and the sea, water-based sports and leisure geographies” (p. 1). Blue spaces, a term utilized by health geographers, environmental, and social psychologists, to describe water environments (Gammon & Jarratt, 2019), is gaining traction more broadly, including in the study of leisure experiences. This paper draws on this growing body of literature that attests to the benefits of time spent in and around blue spaces (see Foley & Kistemann, 2015; Gascon et al., 2017) by examining how engagement with blue spaces in a sailing context shapes experiences of freedom and notions of escape from normal “land-based” life.

Sailboat Cruising

Sailboat cruising is an activity involving crew using their vessel for exploration, voyaging, and simply enjoying the act of sailing. Cruising yachts (typically between 10 and 15 m in length) are designed and equipped to allow their crews to be self-sufficient for months at a time.

Since the mid-20th century, an increasing number of cruising sailors have ventured offshore for extended voyages of months or years, whereby the crew makes the yacht their permanent home. Changes in technology (e.g., low-cost freshwater makers, satellite navigation), and the ability to work remotely, have facilitated this growth in extended cruising (Jennings, 2007; Orams, 1999). Sailboat adventures have been popularized by sailors/writers (e.g., Hiscock, 1950; Pardey & Pardey, 1992) and more recently bloggers/vloggers who share their experiences via social media (e.g., Liz Clark). Sailors who spend extended periods at sea have become a distinct aspect of the sailing community, commonly referred to as “offshore” or “blue-water cruisers.”

This offshore cruising community has largely rejected living a “normal life” ashore. The extended transocean voyages to remote locations that these people undertake require a high level of self-sufficiency, adaptability, resilience, and, many would say, courage. Offshore sailors face numerous challenges associated with weather, equipment, navigation, safety, and managing unforeseen circumstances, which require an ability to solve problems outside of the support network that exists ashore. While the total number of participants involved in ocean sailing is not huge, it is by no means insignificant. For example, Cornell’s (2010) Survey of Global Cruising Movements estimates that approximately 1,500 yachts cross the Atlantic (east–west) annually, with an average of four people aboard, while a similar number of boats arrive in either New Zealand or Australia at the end of each Pacific Ocean crossing season. Each year more than 18,000 boats clear into the Bahamas, many of which will have traveled from North American ports. The number of cruising sailors based semipermanently in popular cruising destinations (e.g., Indonesia/Malaysia/Thailand, Mediterranean, Caribbean) is harder to determine.

Offshore cruising has been the topic of inquiry by a small number of scholars; for as Koth (2016) has pointed out, “this highly transient lifestyle make this a difficult group to study” (p. 145). Macbeth (1992, 1998, 2000) focused on how cruising sailors came to share a subcultural ideology, the process of subcultural formation, along with an examination of why people participated in this lifestyle. He described the cruising life as a combination of freedom with challenge, where at best “results follow efforts and where one is confirmed existentially by surviving. At worst it is uncomfortable, insecure and sometimes frightening!” (Macbeth, 1992, p. 320). He found that cruisers were inspired by a utopian vision that sought an alternative definition of reality to that espoused in consumerist societies. His work also revealed that ocean sailing provided relief from the sense of alienation engendered in modern society by allowing participants to get closer to nature. Jennings (1999) extended this formative work on sailboat cruising as a lifestyle. Her study revealed that people went long-term ocean sailing as both an escape from their home society and in the pursuit of a more desirable lifestyle.

Lusby and Anderson’s work (2008a, 2010) continued with the conceptualization of sailboat cruising as a lifestyle when they examined what made this alternative lifestyle attractive, along with an examination of the perceived benefits for participants. They reported the following themes; health (healthier lifestyle; psychological well-being), quality time with companions, and personal growth (e.g., mastery of challenges). In their later paper (Lusby & Anderson, 2010), they found that cruising can lead to a more self-determined way of life removed from the pressures and stresses of everyday life on land. They concluded that cruising was not seen as just an escape from something—it also provides a means to create new and enriching experiences. Lusby and Anderson (2008b) also examined the notion of community within the subculture of ocean cruising. They suggested that cruising created a liminal space free from the structural roles and obligations of “normal” society. This space opened up possibilities for participants to build a new sense of identity and community. Koth’s (2016) more recent research affirmed Lusby and Anderson’s (2010) study concerning notions of escape and possibilities for creativity. As Koth (2016) reported, “Freedom was often defined as ‘positive freedom,’ the choice to exert autonomous control and self-determination, in contrast to freedom from constraining structures” (p. 148).

The studies summarized above were undertaken by scholars with a personal investment in the cruising lifestyle (e.g., Koth and Jennings are overt about their involvement). In either the methodology section or biographical details, the authors revealed their engagement in this community of practice yet the “personal,” the lived experiences of the authors remained largely hidden. Limited exceptions to this approach include autoethnographic accounts by Zink (2015), Reason (2015), and M. Brown (2017) where the writers’ lived experiences of sailing are brought to the fore as the basis of situating personal actions within the broader social context. These authors have sought to bring more personal insights into the human–sea relationship gained through personal encounters. This paper expands on the recent autoethnographic work of Zink (2015), Reason (2015), and M. Brown (2017). In doing so it seeks to address the “paucity of inquiry on this individualistic yet highly communal ‘leisure’ subculture” (Koth, 2016, p. 145) which largely remains beyond the visual and academic horizon. By drawing on the lived experiences of the first author, it also demonstrates how notions of freedom and escape are contested and contextually dependent (Britton et al., 2019). Our attention now turns to how particular perceptions of the sea have been constructed.

The Sea: Freedom, Escape, and Sailing

The symbolic meaning given to our current relationship with the sea arises from specific sociocultural circumstances. For example, early representations of the sea in western traditions were linked to Greek and Judeo-Christian conceptions of the sea as a dangerous and chaotic space. More recent notions of the sea as a place of freedom, freedom to be yourself, or to be free from the limitations and constraints of society, are based on a reaction to the pitfalls of rapid industrialization and the legal status “bestowed” on the sea by nations with expansionist political and economic agendas. The European Romantic movement drew on the discontent of industrialization to conceptualize the sea as a blank slate, where one might be free to escape the banalities of shore-based life and its contaminating influences (Auden, 1951; Osborn, 1977). The seascape, as wilderness, stood in marked contrast to the structured, human dominated, and despoiled landscape.

Men came to find in the ocean a large-scale, concrete projection of what they felt in grander moments to be their own depth, immensity, mystery, and permanence . . . For such persons, the sea came to represent freedom, an opportunity for the self-realization which had been denied on shore. (Osborn, 1977, p. 357)

This notion of sea, as a wilderness, as a place where you can recreate yourself continues to shape Westernized perceptions (Clark, 2018; Ford & Brown, 2005). Notions of the sea as wilderness and a “blank space” have been critiqued for their Eurocentrism (McNiven, 2008). As outlined by Brown and Humberstone (2015), our representations of the sea reflect the “myths, beliefs and knowledge of our times . . . our understandings of the sea have changed as a result of social and technological changes in society” (p. 18). Our conception of the sea as a blank space for “personal development” or finding one’s “true self” has been called into question from a variety of angles (e.g., psychology, social theory, gender studies). Differential access to the sea and how the sea is experienced is “contingent and relative to intersections across race, sex/gender, sexuality, ethnicity, history, culture and geography” (Britton et al., 2019, p. 160).

The “freedom of the seas” also finds its roots in the legal principle of imperium derived from the Roman control of the Mediterranean (Steinberg, 1999). This doctrine implied that the sea was beyond the control of any individual state. If the sea could not be possessed, then trade routes allowed unfettered access to resources to further economic expansion. This clearly advanced the interests of particular nation-states but concealed and overrode more complex and localized associations of particular communities where land-based conventions extended into the sea, for example, in Scandinavia and Oceania (McNiven, 2008). Our current conceptions of the sea, as a site of freedom and escape from the norms of land-based society, are neither a “divine gift” nor an ‘inherent right’—it is based on historical, economic, and social traditions, and inequitable power relations between nation-states (Britton et al., 2019; Humberstone, 2015; Nemani, 2015; Wheaton, 2000).

Ocean cruising sailors claim to the sea as being a space to experience freedom can be traced to specific historical contexts and cultural movements. The “propellent” to associating “being at sea” as a form of escape arguably finds its genesis in the exploits of Bernard Moitessier who famously withdrew from the first single-handed around the world yacht race when he was almost certain to claim the fastest time. After 7 months at sea, Moitessier sent a message to race officials simply stating, “I am continuing non-stop to the Pacific Islands because I am happy at sea, and perhaps also to save my soul” (Moitessier, 1974, p. 169). Three months later, he arrived in Tahiti and his book The Long Way is a classic account of an individual’s desire to escape what he saw as the corrupting influences of modernity and to find peace at sea. Moitessier’s gesture of rejecting western society’s expectations of fame and fortune for a great goal, along with his later exploits, has inspired countless others (e.g., Clark [2018] book being their latest in a linage of the trope) to seek fulfillment through ocean voyaging.

For many cruising sailors, the exploits of Moitessier may be well known, but it is doubtful if thoughts of imperium or the Romantic movement would come to mind when planning to go cruising. What we do know is that the quest for freedom is linked to both the sea and ocean sailing for cruising sailors (Koth, 2016; Lusby & Anderson, 2010). How freedom is manifest through a cruising sailor’s lived experience is the topic of analysis in the following sections of the paper.

Research Setting, Methods, and Data Analysis Approach

This study uses autoethnography to explore the lived experiences of an offshore sailor. Autoethnography as a research approach is a well-established qualitative research technique (Anderson & Austin, 2012; Hayano, 1979; Sparkes, 2000). More recently, it has been argued that “there is considerable untapped opportunity for this emerging genre of qualitative research in the study of leisure in society” (Anderson & Austin, 2012, p. 131). Several authors have applied this method to the study of recreational sporting activities and adventure tourism (e.g., Anderson, 2011; Buckley, 2012; Komppula & Gartner, 2013 ; Larsen, 2014) and the autoethnographic approach is now well established in the sport management research area (Cooper et al., 2017). It has also been applied in the sailing context by Tangene (2017) who explored the experiences of silence and solitude associated with night sailing on the open ocean and by M. Brown (2017) who found such an approach is “well suited to explicating embodied ways of experiencing the world of the offshore sailor” (p. 686).

Thus, the use of data collected by oneself, on oneself, as a deeply reflective process has become an increasingly accepted social science method. Based on the idea that an individual’s own personal experiences are a legitimate and important source of data, autoethnography embraces and values reflexivity as a critical aspect of research into and on human lived experiences. Anderson and Austin (2012) suggested that one of the strengths of autoethnography is that it allows for the exploration of issues such as identity construction through the focus on the “body and lived experience” (p. 7).

An inductive exploratory approach guided this research whereby specific research questions or objectives were not set in advance. Rather, a general aim of exploring the experiences through self-reflection and recordings of the PA’s thoughts, feelings, and ruminations was employed through a conversation with the SA (Giardina & Newman, 2011). As illustrated in Laurendeau’s (2011) paper on masculinity and risk taking, dialogue can inform analysis and assist in the reflexive process of understanding and articulating experience.

From these data, important themes and issues were induced and further considered. Among these key emergent themes were the constructs of freedom and escape. As a consequence, these themes became the foci for this paper.

Data related to these themes were selected from the written blogs. These data excerpts were read and reread by the first author and then further notes written reflecting on the meaning/s and importance of these blog entries. These notes were used to provide a commentary which is shared in the examples provided in the “Results” section below.

In keeping with the conversational approach, the SA read the data excerpts independently and provided his own analysis/interpretation of the meaning of the blog entry data. Such an approach seeks to provide an additional perspective on the data, given the differing disciplinary backgrounds of the authors. This adds value in terms of an analysis from a more distant expert who can add a different perspective by confirming, contesting and offering alternative explanations with regard to the meaning/s of the data. Thus it is intended that the first author’s perspective on the data, resulting from full immersion in the experience followed by postvoyage reflection, be supplemented by the SA’s perspective (the SA, whereas an experienced offshore sailor, has not been on the yacht that the study was based on nor has he sailed with the PA).

Results and Discussion

Results are presented here as direct quotes (denoted in italics) from the blog written aboard the yacht during the voyage (and immediately before departure and at the end). The blogs presented here were chosen from 31 entries written by the first author. They were chosen for their relevance to the concept of escape and freedom as the focus of this paper.

Blog entry #1 (Day 1). Prevoyage departure Langkawi, Malaysia

Any adventure starts with a desire to explore and experience something different. I have, over the past months, been questioning in my own mind why we do this. Why are some of us drawn to adventure? Where does this “call” come from?

It’s a difficult question to answer. Different for everyone I suspect. For me, the call of the “big blue”—the ocean has always been there. I think it’s a combination of genetics and the experiences of my childhood and early adulthood. There is, if I am honest, also an aspect of ego in it. The desire to live a life different from the norm—to not be “ordinary.” I am certainly not unique in this desire for adventure, a need to respond to the “call of the sea.”

PA comments: To me, this entry reflects both my seeking and escaping motivations to undertake this voyage. Seppo Iso-Ahola (1982, 1989) proposed that primary drivers for leisure and recreation choices are to seek particular experiences and to escape others. His argument is based on the modern developed world context whereby adults (and children) have significant time obligated to work and/or school and that these obligations create motivation to seek contrasting experiences during leisure time. Similarly, Dillard and Bates (2011) found that escape was an important explanatory factor as to why people choose specific leisure/recreation activities. Furthermore, the desire to live “less ordinary” and to seek adventure has been linked to a desire to experience “an opportunity to enter into a parallel universe, where priorities can be different. Adventure is something apart. The ordinary world and everyday concerns are left behind.” (Swarbrooke et al., 2015, p. 13)

These authors’ contentions resonate with me in that what sits behind this blog entry is an intense 3 years of work in a position of management responsibility in my workplace where I held responsibilities for budgets, staff, and decisions with important consequences for people’s futures. There were significant performance pressures and expectations, both from myself and superiors and people in the team I led. Thus, I entered into this sea voyage with a motivation to escape from these pressures, to get away and refind my true self.

SA comments: As someone well versed in the discourses of outdoor education, I found the PA’s words “refind my true self” through a sea voyage intriguing. The belief that one might “find one’s true self” in wilderness is deeply rooted in Romanticism’s reaction against industrialization and materialism (Bate, 2000; Wattchow & Brown, 2011). While the Romantic sentiment is persistent and influential, it might be better viewed as a “short-hand” expression, referring to values/attributes that are often subsumed by the pressures of the workplace and city living. Going to sea to recapture, experience, or try new ways of being is a reoccurring theme in sailing literature (Clark, 2018, Swell being a recent iteration). Having known the PA for several years, I sensed that the multiple demands of his management position—the constant need to keep multiple balls in the air—had taken a toll. The ability to skipper a vessel, to work with the wind and tide to navigate one’s vessel successfully, and to set the day’s agenda, rather than having it set for you, permits a sense of autonomy that is often missing in everyday life. The sense of gaining control, variously referred to as autonomy (Goold, 2014) or “a self-determined life” (Lusby & Anderson, 2010) through sailing is well documented. Goold (2014) drew on Moitessier’s (1974) writings to explore sailors’ desire for solidarity—a deep connection with others and the natural world. This sense of deep connection is also a theme of Lusby and Anderson’s (2010) research. While findings “one’s self” might, on face value, appear to be a bit trite, the PA’s extensive past experience at sea, the positive sense of self he experienced, and the literature attests to sailing’s ability for people to display autonomy and connect to the natural environment in a way, that is, not easy in busy urban-based environments.

Blog Entry #13 (Day 27). Off the coast of Sumatra, Indonesia

Well it’s been an interesting few days. We called this voyage and blog; “The Adventures of Waiake,” and it is proving to be so. Post mainsail blow out and the decision to turn back we have had some additional challenges come our way.

Yesterday morning, 7.30 am after a bit of an unsettled night at anchor off a small beach. I saw a local wooden boat (powered by an outboard) come out from the shore and head toward us. It had six men onboard, one of whom was dressed in a police uniform. They came up to the yacht and a large man (not the one in the police uniform) held onto the stern of our yacht and started talking in Indonesian saying “Polis, Polis” and gesturing that they were to come onboard.

Crewmate X and I were up on deck and we kept saying “no, no.” Fortunately, we have installed a net over the aft steps which blocks easy entrance into the cockpit of the yacht and on this net we have a sign written in Indonesian which states “No Entry, Private Yacht.” So, we kept pointing at this and we tried to communicate that we were leaving now. They spoke no English and we no Indonesian other than basic greetings, so a few minutes of backwards and forwards trying to communicate occurred.

They kept wanting to come onboard, so I turned and started the engines and directed Crewmate X to go forward and lift the anchor. At this point they let go of holding the yacht but stayed only meters away. As soon as the anchor was up, I put the yacht engines into gear and started with the “smile and wave boys” approach, and then started to motor out of the bay. There seemed to be some confusion onboard their boat as to what they should do, but we had noticed they only had a 15 hp outboard on their heavy boat loaded with six men. So, at this point we just put the speed on and headed directly out to sea as fast as we could (about 8 knots of boat speed). The boat followed us for over 40 min but could not keep up and so we eventually put distance on them to a point where we could see them turn back toward land.

We have no idea if it was a genuine police officer onboard or not. It certainly didn’t feel right to be approached at 7.30 am in this manner—it seems nobody starts work that early here. We do not think they were “pirates” and they were not directly threatening us, most likely they were just curious, but also looking for an opportunity. On many online forums from cruising yachts in this part of the world warnings about such incidents are posted. Basically, once people are onboard your yacht “gifts” and payments are expected to get them off. Local officials seem to be the worst, creating special approvals that need to be obtained and paid for.

So, we managed to escape that one. I hope we do not have more of these. It’s just unpleasant.

PA comments: Before we undertook this voyage, friends and family expressed concern about the risks associated with “pirates” and boat invasions in Indonesia. I investigated this risk through searching online yacht cruising forums and this reassured me that the risk was small. However, this was tempered by my personal knowledge and grief from the murder of a friend as a result of a boat invasion on the Amazon River in 2001. In addition, as skipper of the yacht, and as a father, I felt a deep responsibility for the safety of all aboard; my 18-year-old son, his 17-year-old best friend and our other 25-year-old crew-mate. I remember thinking at the time of the incident reported in this blog entry; “this is a really important decision—if I don’t get it right it could go really badly for us.” In my mind, I was sure that keeping the six men off our boat was critical. Once they were onboard they would have been in control.

In rereading this blog entry again, I recall I deliberately downplayed the incident in writing the blog because I did not want to worry those at home who I knew would read it. So, the comment “it’s just unpleasant” is a major understatement. Being confronted in the early morning on a remote Indonesian coast by a boat with six rough-looking men demanding to come aboard your vessel was not just “unpleasant,” it was scary and I am extremely relieved we escaped.

When I consider the themes of freedom and escape, this blog entry and my recollection of this incident emphasizes that the independence and freedom I sought from a normal land-based life (at least normal for me), changed the context but not the responsibilities. Actually, the responsibilities for making good decisions increase on a yacht in a remote location because there is no “safety net.” There is no calling an emergency service number for police, fire or ambulance services should something go wrong. You have to sort it out yourself.

So, alongside of freedom comes autonomy and a personal responsibility for decision-making in risky scenarios. This has been an identified feature of adventure experiences, particularly for those with leadership roles (Brown, 1995). Furthermore, uncertainty and risk are widely recognized as a key component of adventure (Swarbrooke et al., 2015), however, surprisingly fear has not been widely explored with regard to adventure activities (Carnicelli-Filho et al., 2010). More commonly, risk and adventure have been linked to positive personal outcomes such as a sense of accomplishment and mastery (Krein, 2007) or “rush” (Buckley, 2012) or “peak” experiences (Macbeth, 1998). In contrast, my strongest emotions post this incident were ones of relief, and gratitude that the outcome was not worse.

SA comments: “It’s just unpleasant”—these words stand out. Yes, this phrase specifically relates to an unusual encounter with a group of suspicious people but it also applies to the hot humid weather which makes life aboard difficult, the motion of the boat as it bounces, or the reality of being concerned about plastic debris or fishing gear being caught in the propellers. “It’s just unpleasant” are not the words one imagines when viewing the aqua blue waters in sailing magazines or when looking at Instagram images. Yet cruising life can be unpleasant. This is part of the reality of cruising. For example, Jennings (2005) has highlighted the “exploitation, marginalization, powerlessness and cultural imperialism” (p. 177) experienced by women partners of male sailors who do not want to go cruising but do so because of love and a sense of belonging. In the context of seeking freedom, it is clear that there are constraints and consequences. Nature (e.g., Sumatras) and human actions (e.g., abandoning plastic and fishing gear in the sea) mean freedom is bounded.

Blog Entry #14 (Day 30). Off the coast of Sumatra, Indonesia.

For me, this month has been challenging personally. I am learning that things change as you get older. The things I was prepared to live without, or to put up with (or ignore) in a boat-based life are far more difficult now I am older. I guess it is natural that comfort, security and predictability are more important the older you get. I am having to come to terms with this. Mostly what I have learned (or been reminded of) is that the people in your life who love you and with whom you share life are the most important things. I do not like being apart from my wife and daughter and miss them every minute. I also miss my friends—I am blessed to have so many special people in my life.

We have experienced some special moments: Crossing the Malacca Straits and crossing massive tidal lines, discovering some surf breaks and surfing them on our own, meeting some great people, especially two couples living onboard their yachts and exploring the world. Lovely, hospitable people with great stories, an amazing attitude and the courage to live a life less ordinary.

PA comments: I wrote this blog entry in a “down moment” when I was tired. Fatigue is a universal challenge in offshore sailing where interrupted sleep, constant movement, exposure to natural elements (sun, wind, heat, saltwater) is inescapable. You also have time on a yacht. A 4-hr night watch goes very slowly, there is seldom much to do and little stimulation. As a consequence, I often found myself lost in my own thoughts and self-reflection.

This is a complete contrast with the busy, almost frantic, land-based life I had been living in the previous 5 years. Time and solitude allow for thinking about your life priorities, about what really matters to you. Wilderness, solitude, and extended time in natural settings have been long associated with self-contemplation and reflection (Heintzman, 2003). As part of this, a reassessment or reaffirmation of one’s personal priorities in life is common as is a recognition of the changes that are occurring in one’s self as one ages. Such experiences in wilderness settings have been shown to be therapeutic and personally beneficial (Miles, 1987). From my experiences, this time on the voyage has been beneficial and it has promoted a reaffirmation of what is important to me, where I am in terms of my stage of life and how I wish to live.

SA comments: The posting brings a wry smile—I am pleased that I am not alone in my hesitancy to put up with the discomforts that were the norm of my youth. I am slightly puzzled by the paradox (or at least my perception of a paradox) in the PA’s statement concerning the importance of security and predictability. The very act of buying a vessel in a foreign country, taking leave from work, and voyaging in SE Asia is an adventurous act (see Blog #1). The reflexive stance brought by adversity, challenge, and being separated from loved ones serves to deepen the meaning of what it is to “live a life less ordinary.” Time away from the “everyday” can provide a new appreciation of what is important in one’s life.

Blog Entry #16 (Day 36). Off the coast of Sumatra, Indonesia.

Continuing on with my theme from the last blog on the yacht cruising lifestyle bringing you back to basics.

Yesterday we found ourselves post a great surfing session in a tropical downpour. For those who have not experienced this, it is quite dramatic and the skies seem to open and the volume of water coming down is hard to believe. The entire crew took the opportunity to shower and wash in the rain, outside on the deck.

The joy of doing this is hard to explain—it’s exhilarating and way different to turning on a shower inside somewhere.

The rain continued for over an hour and the expression “bucketing down” became literal for us as we filled bucket after bucket of rainwater and filled up our boat’s water tanks.

There is something deeply satisfying about catching water directly from the sky and storing it for our later use. Of course, this is what the entire water cycle does and all of our house water supply systems at home rely on this approach. It’s just that on a yacht, it seems so much more important.

We are very conscious of our limited fresh water supply onboard and that we depend on fresh, clean water for drinking, cooking and, if we have enough, for washing and cleaning.

Conserving water (and energy and fuel, and food) is very real and important onboard as we do not have easy access to more. Once we run out we need to either find water to purchase from ashore and dinghy it out in containers to the yacht—or get lucky and catch rain water (some yachts have de-salination units onboard to make fresh water from the sea, but we do not have such a system).

So, the thrill of catching rain water for our use, filling our tanks up and washing ourselves clean brought us a primal joy and we found ourselves laughing, yahooing and reveling in the experience of it. Something so simple, so natural, so basic, so important.

Interesting how we seem to lose such experiences in modern-day urban living.

PA comments: One of the most important reminders or lessons from the voyage has been how little we actually need to survive, but how important those basics are: water, food, shelter, safety, companionship, health. Furthermore, the simplification of life and living that offshore sailing requires is rejuvenating. One of my favorite quotes comes from Henry David Thoreau (1981) who in 1854, after living alone self-sufficiently in a remote cottage for 2 years wrote: “Our life is frittered away by detail . . . Simplicity, simplicity, simplicity! I say, let our affairs be as two or three, and not a hundred or a thousand . . . Simplify, simplify!” (chapter 2). The forced simplicity of sailing offshore contrasts, however, with the complexity of mechanical things aboard the yacht (such as engines, winches, steering, rigging, sails, anchoring, electrical, and electronic systems) which are an ongoing obligation to maintain (and sometimes repair).

Most importantly in this context was the contrast between the busyness of my previous professional and personal life where seemingly every waking hour was dominated by a long “to do” list and the opportunity, the necessity at times, to do very little aboard the yacht. Despite some of the issues and challenges we faced—which I found tiresome, frustrating and, sometimes, stressful—overall, I did find the 3 months aboard refreshing and rejuvenating. Perhaps because of the contrast with my previous years of office-based work as opposed to “time-off.” Really, this voyage was not a holiday with nonobligated leisure time, rather it was time doing something different.

The idea of escaping to wilderness and natural settings is seductive (as indeed it is for me) and it has been widely viewed as a positive aspiration (Johnson, 2002; Kaplan & Talbot, 1983) and even as a venue for therapeutic experiences (Kimball, 1983). However, as William Cronon (1996) points out, wilderness itself is a human construct and presents a paradox. That is, a romanticized view of nature as pristine and an antidote to the modern industrialized human-dominated world, whereas wild places are actually creations of our own desires. He challenges us to rethink wilderness and argues that

[i]t is not a pristine sanctuary where the last remnant of an untouched, endangered, but still transcendent nature can for at least a little while longer be encountered without the contaminating taint of civilization. Instead, it is a product of that civilization, and could hardly be contaminated by the very stuff of which it is made. Wilderness hides its naturalness behind a mask that is all the more beguiling because it seems to natural. As we gaze into the mirror it holds up for us, we too easily imagine that what we behold is Nature when in fact we see a reflection of our own unexamined longings and desires. (p. 7)

I am somewhat disturbed by Cronon’s contention because it challenges me intellectually, but mostly because it challenges my long-held belief and personal experiences of positive personal outcomes from my wilderness experiences.

SA comments: A boat has limited capacity to store the taken-for-granted resources that we readily consume without much forethought in most western societies. The directness of the experiences that are shared above; the joy, the attention to the present (bathing), and the future (topping up the boat’s tanks) illustrate the value of “an education in the senses, a learning to attend to our immediate surrounds” (Wattchow & Brown, 2011, p. 183). A cruising yacht encourages the crew members to develop attentiveness. Tooth and Renshaw (2009) have argued for the value of developing attentive citizens who have experienced the world directly and who are capable of living in it thoughtfully. While perhaps not overtly thinking of the cruise as a pedagogical endeavor, the PA’s crew, including his son, friends, and other family members provided an experiential classroom of real-world learning and the sharing of blog postings serves to draw attention to living thoughtfully.

Blog Entry #21 (Day 52). South Andaman Sea, Thailand.

“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.” Some of the most famous opening lines in English literature (from Charles Dickens: A Tale of Two Cities) seems apt at present. It has been a week since my last blog because I have succumbed to the stomach bug that has been moving through the crew. It finally got me. Not a pleasant way to lose a few kilos.

Not surprising really. Four people living on a boat in the tropics; hot, humid, wet—perfect conditions for bacteria to thrive. Add in questionable local food, water and waste water hygiene, our own lack of immunity to local bugs and sooner or later it’s going to slam you down.

Anyway, enough of that. We have experienced some very special moments, things few people get to see, but also some ordinary—but special to us anyway. Examples from the last week are:

Dolphins riding off the bow of our yacht at night under a full moon.

Throwing some water and supplies to Indonesian fishermen in their little fishing craft over 50 nautical miles from land and seeing their smiles and waves of thanks.

Flying fish scooting off the bow and making their aerial escape with elegance, but then their always chaotic crash landings.

Dramatic thunder and lightning shows off in the distance lighting the night sky for hours.

Snorkeling over coral reefs and seeing the abundance, diversity, and color of underwater life.

The pleasure of a cold drink on a super-hot day.

A calm anchorage and a good night’s sleep.

Sharing special times in special places with your family and friends.

These have been the best of times.

But, living onboard a yacht has its trials and frustrations as well.

Our 2 days and night passage from Indonesia to Thailand and then Malaysia started out well with a nice 15 knot tail wind. We were making good miles at over 8 knots of boat speed. The sun-set behind us was beautiful and we waited for the full moon to rise over the horizon off the bow. Life was good.

Then, as if someone turned off the switch, the wind just stopped! That was that—a rolling left over sea but no wind to sail with—so on with the motors.

They stayed on for the entire night, the entire next day, the following night as well!

It’s not so bad when you are motoring and it is flat calm, but unfortunately that was not what nature handed us. We had an awkward sea state, jacked up by current flowing across our direction of travel. It was slam, bam, bounce, slam again. Yuck! The progress across the chart to our destination was painfully slow.

It’s amazing how relative time is. A night at sea in uncomfortable conditions crawls by, it seems to take for-ever!

Most of us did not feel well. One of our crew actually passed out in the heat and the motion of it all (not a major—but re—hydration was key—tough to get rest, but we tried).

“What the hell are we doing this for—this is supposed to be fun!” went through many of our minds I am sure.

We eventually got there, got into a nice anchorage, anchor down and finally engines off. Blissful quiet and a boat at peace.

Not for long! A nasty Sumatra (thunderstorm) moved in quickly from the east. Within 10 min the wind was up to 30 knots, our anchor was dragging and we were up against rocks on a lee shore. Bugger!

Engines on again, up anchor and motor around 30 min to a sheltered side of the island to wait it out for 3 hours.

Then, that night we had a beautiful clear night, sparkling phosphorescence in the water and a flat calm anchorage. Bliss!

It’s a life of contrasts. Great times, boring times, crappy times.

Things happen that are unexpected that are beautiful and amazing, but some are dangerous, or frustrating, or expensive, or uncomfortable or miserable. You do very much learn to appreciate the good times, they contrast so dramatically with others.

PA comments: This blog is an example consistent with many of the others from this voyage where the positive experiences contrast with the negative. These contrasts are most frequently caused by happenings that are beyond control of the crew. As a consequence, an important learning from the voyage was the need to submit and accept that sometimes you just get dealt a difficult situation that requires you to endure and, sometimes, to suffer. This suffering is not what any cruising sailor seeks to experience and it certainly does not form any of the “dream” that attracts you to this kind of lifestyle. However, it is a common experience and a frequent topic of conversation between other offshore cruising sailors is the dramatic, the dangerous, the accidents, and, sometimes, the tragic. These are shared “insider” experiences that make good stories. These common shared experiences do create a sense of belonging and, in some cases, respect for the fortitude, adaptability, and ingenuity of offshore sailors as they overcome difficulties and challenges that confront them.

I am somewhat reassured by Swarbrooke and colleagues (2015) who wrote that in adventure: “Feeling scared, exhausted and thoroughly tested is sometimes part of the deal. In many ways, there is an expectation and acceptance that adventure might involve a certain amount of hardship and unpleasantness” (p. 8). So, I am not alone in thinking that adventure, and in this context in blue spaces, is not a universally positive experience. It also occurs to me that some of the strongest human bonds of friendship are formed by shared experiences of difficulty and suffering. A respect for the perseverance and courage of others is born from the empathy created from having to express these attributes yourself.

SA comments: “It’s a life of contrasts”—perhaps this is why we go cruising? Without the “lows” the good times might not be so “high.” Perhaps the freedom we seek is not freedom from the regularity of the 9 to 5 work day, the pointless meetings, and the predictability of routine. It is the freedom to get on the rollercoaster of a life lived with consequences and therefore meaning. To be on an open ocean in a small vessel, or to cruise in foreign waters is an invitation to be vulnerable, to experience delight and despair. To gain autonomy and solidarity with the planet and other people (Goold, 2014), a sailor needs to let go of the security blanket provided in “normal” shore-based life. Like the artist or the writer, the sailor needs the freedom to simply ‘be’—to live by decision and deed. The sailor’s freedom is not “freedom from” something (such freedom is illusory), rather it is freedom to unleash the unpredictability that is inherent in living more in harmony with the ocean environment.

Blog entry #30 (Day 76). Langkawi, Malaysia.

To be completely honest, since making the call to buy the yacht, I have almost daily had the sense of “oh my goodness, what have I done.” The dream of owning a big yacht is a lovely one to think about, dream about and share. The dream goes something like; sailing across tropical azure waters, in warm breezes to a calm anchorage with swaying coconut trees on white sand beaches watching the sunset while drinking a cold beverage with my wonderful family.

The reality, as any owner of a large yacht with tell you, is very different. Yes, the dreamy scenario above can happen, but it sits along with continual maintenance and cleaning, equipment breaking or not working properly, crappy weather, anchor dragging at 2 am, sickness, heat, nights with no sleep and unexpected drama.

We have had all of the above.

The adventure we have been on, as is the nature of adventures, has delivered unexpected challenges. We have had some wonderful experiences that contrast with some scenarios we would rather have not had to face.

PA comments: This blog entry is reflective and a summation as it was written toward the end of the voyage. It spawned the title for this paper because the theme of “the dream” and its contrast with the reality of the experiences became so prevalent during the voyage. It is not that I am regretful of having made the decision to purchase the yacht and undertake the voyage, rather it is an attempt to be honest about my feelings on the experiences we shared. For me, there are huge benefits in engaging with nature, wilderness and remote blue spaces, as we did. However, to use an age-old cliché; it was not all “smooth sailing.” In looking back, I recognize that if it had been easy and without challenge, it would not have been as memorable or as interesting. Through the challenges we grew, we developed skills and we developed more confidence in ourselves, our yacht and our abilities to handle unexpected difficulties. Most importantly, the difficulties and discomfort made me reassess what was the most important to me and to more greatly appreciate the good times, and to relish the living of each day. In truth, some of it was a dream, and some of it was certainly difficult—but none of it was really a nightmare. Would I do it again? Probably not the specific voyage we intended to (Thailand, Malaysia, Indonesia, Australia—which we did not complete on the first attempt due to a blowout mainsail down the coast of Sumatra), but certainly other voyages. Yes, there is more to come.

SA comments: The PA’s comments reinforce Macbeth’s (1992) findings that “at its best, cruising is a life with freedom and constant challenges, a life where results follow efforts and where one is confirmed existentially simply by surviving. At its worst it is uncomfortable, insecure and sometime frightening” (p. 320). Along with the “upsides” of owning and skippering a yacht comes a financial and emotional cost. Constant vigilance is required from a skipper who is heavily invested in a vessel, but perhaps more so is the silent weight of keeping one’s family and friend’s safe in what can be, at times, an environment in which a wrong decision can have serious consequences. As the PA has articulated the life of a cruising sailor “is one of total and holistic involvement in the process of living and being . . . ” (Macbeth, 1992, p. 320).

Concluding Thoughts

As with many things in life—experience is what you get when things do not go according to plan! However, this should not be unexpected because sailing, being largely determined by the wind, is an activity with an element of uncertainty and so anyone who seeks an adventure at sea should not expect “smooth sailing” all of the time. After all, the unexpected scenarios are what create the best stories. The ability to deal with adversity and to overcome and survive is the standard recipe for all great stories throughout history.

With regard to the issue of escape; there appears to be some understanding of the answers to the question: “escape from what?” both in the literature and data from this study. However, there is less understanding of answers to the question “escape to what?.”

Inevitably those who embark on extended offshore yacht cruising voyages have expectations and hopes of a lifestyle and experiences that are fulfilling and enjoyable. An important aspect of this is that the experiences are different, that they contrast with “normal” land-based lifestyles. This idea of contrast is well understood in tourism research where people travel to experience different cultures, settings, wildlife, and activities. In some ways, this desire to experience contrast is not only to seek new experiences but also to escape the existing experiences—albeit at least temporarily.

With regard to the concept of freedom, it is something that is viewed, within Western cultures, as a desirable state, something to be aspired to and protected at all costs. Freedom to choose one’s own life course, including day to day activities, has great value—but also has another side to it. Freedom is also a circumstance that is filled with uncertainty, risk, and personal responsibility—including bearing the consequences of misfortune, decisions, and actions/inactions that may render an outcome fatal or otherwise negative. Any life choice, especially those freely chosen, has obligations and responsibilities associated with it. For example, the need to find food and clean freshwater, the need to stay clean and reduce the chances of disease or infection, the need to have shelter, and the need to interact with others. Living, therefore, requires the investment of one’s individual freedom of choice, actions, and efforts first for personal survival and subsequently for other needs, wants, and desires.

Long-term yacht cruising does allow participants to escape the typical pressures and expectations of land-based living (e.g., employment obligations, home cleaning and maintenance, complying with laws and rules, earning enough income to function in the society you live) however, living aboard a yacht has its own obligations and restrictions. Thus, freedom from one set of obligations and pressures is replaced by others; safe navigation, weather, repairs, sickness, compliance with rules and regulations, and so on are another range of issues that become part of everyday life. So, in a sense, there can be an escape from land-based obligations and therefore, a sense of freedom associated with that, but there is a commensurate series of other challenges and issues that must be dealt with.

Living at sea requires adherence to an “alternative” set of obligations, one is clearly not ‘free’—freedom is relative and “freedom at sea” is arguably a construct that may be based more in perception that the gritty reality of lived experiences. This supports Britton et al. (2019) finding in their study of freedom and surfing; it questions notions of freedom and situates freedom as a construct that is “always contextual and negotiated” (p. 161). Nevertheless, offshore cruising does provide an alternative way of living albeit with new obligations. Blue spaces remain important as a setting for a range of experiences that allow the exploration of what is possible and how one might live well.