I awoke to the violent motion that comes with an angry squall in the night. Jumping out of my passage berth I rushed into the darkness and pulled on my harness, which was already tethered to the jackline. The portside rail was completely awash, forcing me to reach into the sea to find the winch and release the jib sheet to shorten the headsail. Next I fought to tie in the second reef, as the squall didn’t seem to be in a hurry to pass on. After shortening all sail, I collapsed in the cockpit, soaking wet and exhausted. I was alone, in the middle of the Pacific Ocean and had to remind myself that I’d chosen this life.
The next morning, Triteia sailed fast and smooth across a comfortable sea, the sun warmed my skin and the sky was packed with fluffy tradewind clouds backed by a brilliant blue sky. That same solitude was joyful.
There’s no place on earth where you’ll feel more alone than at sea. To some this is what dreams are made of, for others it’s the stuff of nightmares. Often, it can be both at once. From shortening sail to watch-keeping to repairs at sea, the practicalities of cruising alone means it’s not a choice for the faint of heart: there’s no one to catch your mistakes, and you must have confidence in your decision-making as there’s nobody else to discuss how you might best handle a situation. But much like the challenges, the rewards a solo sailor receives are beyond measure.
Solo sailors are a different breed, enjoying solitude for days or weeks at a time. They generally have a different relationship with fear and anxiety than those who’d rather not face the risks
