The North Sea made me feel like a small boat far out to sea with a broken rudder and three reefs in the main. I didn’t know where I was going and I wasn’t getting there fast. The wind and tide were buffeting my hull, while my compass spun randomly around, and around, unable to settle. The best I can do is drop my drogue, heave-to and work the problem.
I always say, ‘When you don’t know what to do, start what you know.’ So here I am, doing what I know. I’m writing about how the North Sea showed me the reality of my situation. How it broke the sailor within me.
When I boarded the plane to Inverness 16 days ago, I had a plan. I thought my course was set and this 10-day sail down the east coast of the UK was going to be a test of that plan. A test that would prove to myself I could do this, and an opportunity to put my RYA training to the test in a real-world situation. This trip would be a vital stepping stone to my ultimate dream.
That dream was to get my freelance writing business running well enough to support me, while writing novels in my free time, on my very own yacht. I’d sail around the UK waters for a few years before setting a course southward and across the Atlantic. I pictured myself anchored off a warm beach in the clear blue Caribbean waters,
