Three days and two nights offshore

Weather routing put us on a reach the whole way out, and the forecast held. Six crew, three days, no engine after the harbour wall.

Day one

We cast off at 06:40 with the last of the ebb. The first two hours are always the same: everyone finding their feet, the boat feeling enormous, nobody quite believing they have three days off.

By mid-morning the coast had flattened into a grey line and then into nothing. That moment — when the land goes and you understand there is no turning back for a day and a half — is the one people describe afterwards, not the sailing.

Night watch

Two watches of three, four hours on, four off. The rule on board is simple: no one is ever alone on deck at night, and no one is allowed to be a hero about being tired.

The first night was the clearest sky most of us had seen in years. One of the dads, who has spent his whole career in an office with the blinds down, stood at the bow for most of his first watch and said almost nothing.

Day two

Wind built to 18 knots in the afternoon, and we put in a reef. This is where a novice crew stops being a novice crew — not because anything went wrong, but because the boat asked for something and everyone did it without being told twice.

Dinner was instant noodles. There is a tradition forming here that nobody is fixing.

What we learned

1. Four hours of sleep is enough if the sky is doing that.
2. Take the reef early. Waiting to look brave costs you twice.
3. Bring less. Three days of clothes fitted into a bag the size of a shoebox and nobody missed anything.
4. The best part is not the sailing. It is the ninety minutes after docking, when nobody wants to go home yet.

Next departure is in six weeks. Berths go to members first, then to the waiting list.