More Sailing’s staff crossed the Atlantic – “out of my comfort zone”

Meet Patrik, Sales Representative at More Sailing

Wow, the day finally came when it was time to leave. Although our boat Sirli was delayed on its way to Las Palmas and it threw a bit of a spanner in the works for our planning, nothing could be better than the feeling that’s settling in now. Of course, if I’d been given the choice, I wouldn’t have chosen for the boat to be late, but with hindsight I wouldn’t want it any other way. This challenge has made us a strong team and now, after all our hard work, it’s resulted in sheer happiness as we’ve managed to get everything done on time. The day started with breakfast at 7:30 am, when we realised the porridge portions were too small, and the question arose whether we had really bought enough oats. That question that may sound banal to many, but when you realise that what's on the boat is all you have to live on for the next few weeks, it feels important to check it now and not wait until it's too late. After taking care of the last few things on board, swabbing the deck and buying some final provisions, it's time for the team photo. I imagined this photo would be something I’d want to keep forever, so when an elderly Spaniard turned up who could barely speak English or even walk steadily, I got a little worried. But after seeing the pictures everyone was happy. The picture itself may not be the highest quality but you can see the energy and joy in the gang as we’re about to cast off. This “gang” I’m talking about consists of 10 people that I will return to during the trip, but I think I will start with myself.

My name is Patrik and lots of you reading this probably know me best as a sales representative at More Sailing. It’s usually me you talk to on the phone or by email when booking a trip. I’m 31 years old and have lived in Gothenburg for 10 years. I grew up just north of Gothenburg, near the sea, and when I was younger I didn’t sail much other than with friends and their families. I love to travel, so even though I’m not a very good sailor myself, I have found that sailing is the perfect way to travel, because you visit new destinations every day and you bring your accommodation with you to all these amazing places around the world. That being said, the Atlantic Ocean is something that’s a bit outside my comfort zone, but it’s also the adventure I’m looking for.

Time to cast off

At 10:30 am, we take our last steps on solid ground and cast off. The atmosphere is magical and we leave the harbour using our motor, alongside our sister boat Shama, which is of the same model. We exchange a few words with the gentlemen on the other boat before hoisting sails and heading for the starting area. When the starting shot goes, the whole crew is super excited and we hoist the gennaker. We had a bit of last-minute fixing to do on the boat just before the start, which meant Shama took the lead, but just a couple of hours later we sailed past them, which felt great. The event we’re participating in (ARC, Atlantic Rally for Cruisers), is after all a race with results and rankings, but it’s just as much a social event, as we discovered over the past week in Las Palmas. After sailing for a few hours we had our first crew meeting, where we went through the weather for the coming days and our first watch schedule. We have a watch schedule so we know who is responsible for the boat's progress, as well as the cooking and washing up. There are lots of different types of watch schedules, but we have chosen to start with one where we get 4 hours on duty during the day and 2 hours at night. I was assigned to the watch who would cook dinner, which I started on at once. Conveniently enough we had already prepared most of the food in Las Palmas, so I only had to heat the bolognese and cook some pasta. Immediately after eating, I started my first watch, 8:00 pm-12:00 am. The evening and night watches are done in pairs and I was on a shift together with Anna from Gothenburg, who I get along with very well but who unfortunately has suffered from a bout of bad seasickness since we first started sailing. My watch with Anna was fast-paced, with strong winds and a heavy sea. A little while into the watch we had to take down the headsail to be able to manoeuvre the boat more easily. When our watch is finished we go down to wake the next watch, and once they’ve taken over we head down to write the logbook. The funny thing about this watch change was that once we’d swapped over, we realised that the plotter clock was wrong. It was only 11 pm, which meant that Anna's and my watch shift was 1 hour shorter than planned, but Fredrik-the-cook and Kicki said that they’d let us have the hour as they were already awake. In return, I made them coffee. I am so excited to be part of this, and I’m looking forward to the adventures of the coming weeks!

First watch at sunrise

We have divided the night into two-hour shifts, and Anna and I had the honor of taking the first sunrise watch, from 6:00 am to 8:00 am. It was a relatively quiet morning but our watch leader Sofie pointed out a couple of times when she glimpsed something in the water quite close to us, and the second time I also glimpsed a dark silhouette. We were far from anything, off the coast of Africa, and were baffled at what this could be. As we drew level with it, a light came on and in the same moment an engine started. A small dinghy emerged from the shadows just 30-40 metres from us and headed straight towards us. A lot of thoughts raced through my mind, pirates?! But no, after a couple of seconds the boat left and headed away from us. The sun slowly began to rise on the cloudy horizon and we sat and discussed what we had just experienced. After the watch, the breakfast that Kicki had prepared was ready on the table. I am a person who likes any kind of food, but here on the boat everything turns out to be extra delicious, and ending my watch to enjoy Kicki's oatmeal porridge, boiled eggs, bread and juice is absolutely wonderful. After breakfast I got another couple of hours of sleep to feel fully rested. Shortly after my nap, my roommate Fredrik-the-cook had made broccoli soup for lunch. I’d just sat down to eat when I noticed that the boat was getting a bit jerky and there was sudden activity on deck. The new watch had hoisted the gennaker and ended up slightly off course, which put a great strain on the sail and caused it to tear. It's all hands on deck and I ran from my soup to help pull down the gennaker. We quickly got it down and fixed it with the sailcloth that we have with us. After the repair, and when everyone had finished their interrupted lunch, we held another skipper’s briefing to run through the day. Skipper Fredrik said, among other things, that we should hold off hoisting the gennaker again until everyone gets to know the boat better and how it behaves, which everyone agrees on. At the end of the meeting I posed a riddle and promised a secret prize for whoever can solve it. At the time of writing about a day later, no one has yet come up with the answer, but the level of enthusiasm is fantastic. For example, Anna has even done whole equations to try to solve it.

The sea really takes it out of you

My second shift for the day was from 4:00 pm to 8:00 pm with Rebecka and Johanna. For a couple of seasons Rebecka has worked as a host on our boats in Croatia and the Caribbean, so I know her well and it’s rare that much passes without laughter. Johanna is a brand new acquaintance, but she’s extremely funny with her spontaneous outbursts, such as when we stood in the shop buying food before departure and she suddenly threw a pack of dishcloths between the shelves, because she wanted to see if it would work as a Frisbee. As I have to get up early tomorrow, I chose to go to bed and watch a film right after my watch shift, but first a shower. We have a large and luxurious boat with separate bathrooms for each cabin and also a watermaker that allows us to convert sea water into fresh water on the boat. This is was my first shower on the boat and I stood in the tiny 50x50x200 cm cubicle and rinsed myself while being thrown from wall to wall in time with the waves. After the shower, I went to bed to watch La Casa de Papel, a Spanish series that lots of friends have recommended to me. I make it about 10 minutes into the first episode before I’m fast asleep, the sea really takes it out of you...

Finally a bite on the bait

Good afternoon! My watch started at 6 am this morning, and straight away Frippe (one of the Finnish members of the crew) and I set out our two fishing rods with lures. Before we even got the lures out behind the boat we had two bites, but nothing stuck. With 200 metres of line out, it only took a few minutes before we had a solid bite. The result was a bluefin tuna weighing around 7 kilos, and a euphoric crew. It was a really fun morning watch. Unfortunately, the fishing reel thought that one fish per rod was enough, so it gave up and the fishing had to carry on using Frippe’s rod. Lately we’ve been using the engine a lot, and a chat with the boat Vakivaki on the VHF confirmed that they’ve also been running their engine quite a bit and are dipping into their diesel reserves. The Vakivaki crew have also spoken over satellite with meteorologists, who believe a slightly more southerly route for a day might give more reliable winds afterwards. Hopefully the wind will come as promised by the forecasts, which should take us straight to St. Lucia. The great circle route, i.e. the shortest course straight on, currently looks like a good plan provided we can motor through the calm patch. There’s a good atmosphere on board, but the lack of wind is hard. We still haven't solved the problem with the gennaker’s halyard – the sea is far too rough to send someone up there with an angle grinder. 

Advent, Christmas music and rice porridge

I wake up this Advent morning to Christmas music and the smell of rice porridge after 3.5 hours of sleep. I dig out my Santa hat and go up. The gennaker is already up. Anna steers the boat, Lisa watches the sheet. It's overcast but the air is warm. In the saloon, Patrik sleepily shovels down his porridge, with his hair sticking out in all directions and his moustache freshly groomed. It's the first time I've noticed that Fredrik-the-cook has a tattoo on his thigh. I am the pursuit of happiness, it says. So fitting for this whole situation, I think. Breakfast ends with Hans and I singing loudly Feliz Navidad, eagerly cheered on by the cheerful Johanna. Rebecka is still asleep and I wonder to myself how that is possible in this noise. Out on the front deck, Captain Fredrik is lying on his stomach and seems to be trying to stroke the dolphins we have visiting. Yes, we have Advent dolphins. I feed them with the remnants of my porridge, then crawl back to my bunk. I'll have to sleep another hour to make it through the day. I had the 2-4 am watch last night. After two days of being in a lull – which was actually quite lovely and we were able to swim with more than 4 km of sea below us! – we have now gone far enough south to find warm trade winds that we are sailing in with the gennaker. Captain Fredrik and first mate Sofi are patient teachers. In a short time, we have become an effective team at getting the unruly and demanding spinnaker up and down – it's like a headstrong young horse that bolts in the wrong direction as soon as the rider’s attention slips. We can manage at the helm for no more than an hour at a time. But when we succeed, the boat flies forward. Last night I had my best ever sailing experience: In the moonlight reflected in the waters of the Atlantic, I surfed forward at 9 knots and stayed the course with the help of Cassiopeia. Total happiness! Life is beautiful, the earth is wonderful and I am grateful.
Here on the boat, life is lived in watches of 4 hours in the days and 2 hours at night. Still, I manage to maintain the feeling of a fairly normal circadian rhythm, and it's not nearly as difficult as I feared it would be. It helps, of course, that everyone here pulls their weight, and that the atmosphere is good. I think we're kind to each other. It's a pleasant little world we've created out here on the vast ocean, filled with conversations about life, silly antics and focused sailing. Home feels very far away. Or maybe that's where I am the next time I open my eyes.

Nah, now I get up and turn off the Christmas music so I can sleep.

Meet Rebecka, host and HR lead at More Sailing

Two years ago when I started working as a host in the Caribbean for More Sailing, the Atlantic was completely unthinkable. I had never even set foot on a yacht before. I’ve heard stories from three colleagues who, only a few weeks before us, had arrived in St. Lucia to start their season in the Caribbean after sailing across together. They talked about their journey, which sounded absolutely incredible and deeply rewarding. Last summer, when I was doing my second summer season as a host and mentor in Croatia, I was asked if I wanted to join the Atlantic crossing and then work my third season in the Caribbean, but I couldn't really take it in. I had been thinking that after a couple of years working abroad I would go back to Gothenburg to start studying. It wasn't the right time in my life so I chose to forgo the opportunity. The idea came up again in the autumn, when I was with my boss (who was going to make the crossing) for several meetings with the other people who would be sailing. The familiar spark of excitement I usually feel when great a life experience presents itself came on strong. I couldn't resist this opportunity. My whole gut was telling me to go, but the worry of falling too far behind in my studies and my new life in Gothenburg, threw a spanner in the works. Finally, after asking my friends and family, and above all myself, I decided to go along. My school said no at first because it would be too many absences and I would fall behind, but I kept pushing and suggested a study plan. Eventually, my education supervisor and I agreed on an individual study plan and I was able to pack my suitcase.

I couldn't believe I was getting the chance to sail across the Atlantic. An opportunity that did not exist before, and one I doubt I’d have had the courage to take without the personal growth I’ve made over the past few years. Now we’ve passed the halfway point of our journey, and I don’t find myself longing for land. Yesterday at sunset I did yoga to the song from Titanic ’My Heart Will Go On’ on the foredeck, also called the lounge. I feel so at home here with our Sirli family. A wonderfully nice bunch making this amazing trip together.

Meet Hans, a More Sailing guest

To be waved off by a generous wife to sail the Atlantic at the age of 79 is a privilege, a challenge – and an exhausting long-distance endeavour.
The fatigue becomes constant, and everyday household chores like washing clothes become demanding. Duties at the helm, day and night, are inescapable and require all the concentration I can muster. After being woken up, you’re expected to be ready, toilet break included, and on the flying deck 15 minutes later. When difficult situations arise with the sails (and everything else both imaginable and unimaginable), everyone has to do their part. Then you have to step up, even if the night is black, the wind is fierce and you had only just fallen asleep. All this is particularly difficult because we’ve been in constant motion ever since we cast off from Las Palmas in Gran Canaria.

Everything is in ceaseless motion and all the senses get stressed. Your ears have to accept a cacophony of sounds, ranging from the constant creaking and crackling of the cabin wall panels to the rushing noise, like a small waterfall, as water passes the stern. A whole world of sounds, inside and out, that you can't place. Never ever silent.
Your eyes have to accept that the whole outside world is moving. The only thing that appears steady is the perfect circle drawn by the horizon – but even that rises and falls with the boat. The starry sky turns during the night, the moon comes and goes, as does Venus with its companion Neptune.

The senses that control the body’s balance never really get to rest, because even the bed keeps swaying about. You have to hold onto something or at least stand near something when you're on your feet.
Neuroscience shows how much the brain is forced to work to interpret and compensate for all these impressions. You can’t intervene on a conscious level; it’s been programmed since time immemorial. This brain work requires a large amount of the energy we take in, and normally people lose weight during sailing races.

So vitality declines, and not only for me – all my fellow travellers report the same thing.
But you adapt.

The social life on board is good despite the demanding environment. We are devoted to each other and dependent on each other. Despite the fatigue, we’re accumulating a wealth of golden memories and life experiences. The leadership is highly professional and creates a secure and comfortable environment.

We’ll have land in sight in a few days. Then I’ll finally catch up on sleep, celebrate with my companions, and then swiftly fly home to Margareta (her newly operated hip now in place) and to our cherished Christmas and New Year traditions. Of course, I expect a hefty to-do list to tackle in the run-up to Christmas.
I also find myself wondering how I might lie in an interesting way about my experiences to an outside world that is only mildly interested in them.

Meet Johanna, a More Sailing guest

Don't worry about me, I'm in the middle of my great adventure. This is much better than I could have ever imagined. Number 1: I’m wearing shorts 24/7. Number 2: I can see the ocean wherever I turn. Number 3: I sing at least one really loud song every day. So that's why I strike up a tune like the troubadour Evert Taube. Hope you enjoy it and see you when I’m back ashore again!

As long as Sirli can glide / As long as waves can collide / As long as wind in the sails keeps the gennaker full on our side / So if it’s one watch or two / Keep your spirits in view / For there’s always another sea mile so keep steady and true / And who would have guessed / That we’d be put to the test / Sailing out from Las Palmas with the moon our honoured guest / To haul and to heave / To tie knots and to weave / And catch a star as it falls with a wish tucked up our sleeve / And who could have known / That we ten, land grown / Would fit so well aboard Sirli as if the boat were our own / And who would have thought / That we ten, city caught / Would dive straight off the stern into the Atlantic we sought / For with the skipper in song / And the night running long / There’s always porridge at sunrise – ding ding, come along / As long as Sirli can glide / As long as waves can collide / As long as wind in the sails keeps the gennaker full on our side / So climb up for your turn / Though your tired eyes burn / And watch the sun lift from the sea each time we return / And none of us here / Feels the grey drawing near / For the Caribbean calls softly: “Come stay for a year” / So when the gennaker drops / The trade winds help all yachts / Fix sails, trim lines, eat fruit from nets tied up in knots / Spot a shark / Lose a shoe / Overtake Shama too / For as long as the boat can go / And the waves sink and grow / And the wind in the sails keeps the gennaker just so!

Meet Anna, a More Sailing guest

Now we have been away for 6 days and life on board Sirli rolls on at a furious pace. Things happen all the time and I'm beginning to realise that the book I was going to read will probably remain unopened.

It's a strange feeling to be completely cut off from what's going on in the outside world, and to realise that our life right now exists only in the here and now with the Sirli family far out on the Atlantic.

It’s no wonder that everyone gets excited when a pod of dolphins appears and wants to race alongside us, or when we see a whale leaping joyfully not far from the boat. Or a boat is sighted in the distance and the crew’s competitive instinct kicks in. Or the joy when someone has cooked pancakes or rice porridge for breakfast. Or the euphoria that comes from swimming in bright blue water that has a depth of 4000 metres, or when we manage to pull up two fish that become the tastiest tartare we've ever eaten, paired with freshly fried chips. Or the calm that settles over our small community when some practise yoga on the foredeck and others dance the waltz to Evert Taube on the flybridge. Not to mention the exhilarating feeling of sailing towards the sunset and gliding forth under the endless starry sky into the darkness.

Skipper Fredrik drills us in lifesaving, gennaker sailing, trimming and knots, and doesn't let up until everything is perfect.
It was hard to imagine what life on board would be like, but so far it has been amazing!
After a few days of weak winds, we are now advancing due west.
Watch out Shama and Bianco! We can smell victory.

Meet Lis, a More Sailing guest

Finally – we’re in the trade wind! We're rushing ahead due west with the gennaker!! Skipper Fredrik fine-tunes both us and Sirli, mostly us actually! We learn to sail by instinct without a plotter, first on the daytime watch and then stepping up the challenge to sail on with the gennaker at night. It's a great feeling to sail in the moonlight! The moon is so beautiful, big and powerful. I can't believe we're here – on the Atlantic!

Meet Sofie, a skipper with More Sailing

The Atlantic has long been a dream of mine, and now here I am, a twenty-year-old girl as first mate on Sirli. With me I have my skipper Fredrik and we complement each other very well. We teach our crew everything from steering, setting sails, trimming and reefing. They're getting very good now. I can relax more and more the further we go on our journey. And they aren’t the only ones who have developed. I feel like I've grown as a person. I love the deep sense of responsibility you feel, the trust the crew has in you. Knowing how to successfully solve problems without having to ask for tips and ideas, and being able to answer any questions the crew has.

We've been through a lot together. Breaking our record for the fastest Atlantic prep, and seeing huge dolphin pods, sharks and whales along the way. We have swum in waters with a depth of 4000 metres, had flat calm and squalls, rain and sunshine. We have celebrated the first day of Advent and a 50th birthday, washed and cleaned. We're like a big family now.

A few days ago we broke our gennaker. The rope clutch buckled and the halyard trapped my hand against the mast while the line ran free. I thought my fingers had been ripped off, that the line had cut straight through them, and after that I have no memory of what happened. I've been told by Patrik that he knocked my hand out, and I can't even imagine what would have happened if he hadn't been next to me. I sat down with Fredrik who is in charge, and realised that he was needed elsewhere. After all, I had another hand to work with. I took over the helm and he went to help the rest of the crew who were trying to get the gennaker up out of the water. It was stuck in the rudder. Once we had thrown all the sea anchors we have overboard and taken down the sails, I sat down with Fredrik and patched up the wound. That's when all the pain hit me. It is quite fascinating how the body can shut down things that are not needed when a difficult situation arises. The crew came rushing in, shouting cheerfully that they had detached the sail from the rudder. They hoisted the jib again and set course 270 degrees for St. Lucia.

Sixteen hours later, something else happened. This time we were caught by an unexpected gybe and the boom snapped. We lowered it down onto the deck and continued on with the jib as our only working sail. The next day Fredrik had come up with a brilliant idea on how we could use the mainsail even though we have no boom. Everyone on the crew helped out, everyone kept their spirits up, and we struggled together to get his idea to work. After 6 hours of work, everyone looked up at the sail with satisfaction. There it sits again. We can continue with the third reef and a full jib.

Yesterday we passed the halfway mark! At exactly 8:00 pm at a longitude of W 38°00, Njord, the sea god of Norse mythology, made an appearance. With his hook in one hand and bucket of water in the other, he baptised us all. Now we are finally real sailors! Now the distance grows shorter and shorter until we have land in sight. Before I set off on this adventure, I said that I wanted something to tell everyone about when I got home. I wanted a tougher challenge, something I could hold my head up high and be able to show off about to all my loved ones. Now I have my adventures and stories, and we faced them together, just like a big family.

Meet Fredrik, a skipper with More Sailing

A skipper's reflections. Being a skipper has glamorous connotations. You get to steer big boats into fancy harbours, you’re dressed in smart clothes and you eat well. However, every coin has its flip side, and the flip side of the skipper’s coin is, among other things, the weight of responsibility. You have a responsibility to take care of the guests and the boat. The romantic notion of sailing across the Atlantic was quickly replaced by a few days of pure chaos. It started when the fitting that holds the gennaker gave way, so that the gennaker began to sag down towards the water. Immediately the crew and first mate Sofie were on the line to save the sail. The line continued to whip out and Sophie's hand got stuck in the opening where the line runs into the mast. She screamed and Patrik knocked her hand loose. The sail plunged into the water. With a bloody hand, Sofie came to me and said that despite the pain she would take over the steering so I could help with the sail. The gennaker wrapped itself around the rudder and propeller. We took down the rest of the sails while trying to hold on to the part of the gennaker that was not in the water. After securing the sail as much as we could, we took a little break to talk through how we should go about it. During the break, the sail detached from the rudder and propeller. We picked up what remained of it and continued the night with just the jib. I sat down with Sofie and looked at her hand. Some pieces of skin had been completely torn off, leaving the layer beneath exposed. I would have liked to stitch the wound together, but there was no skin to sew into. She winced when I took her hand. She could move her fingers, so no bones were broken or tendons damaged. I gave her pain killers but her pain just got worse and worse. I took the decision to give her hand a local anesthetic to calm the pain so that the tablets could start to work. I tried to remember everything from the first-aid classes at school, about how to administer anaesthetic, prepare the syringe and give the injection. The next morning I put on the climbing harness and jumped into the water. Nothing was in the right place. We gathered ourselves, hoisting the mainsail and jib. On today's agenda is surf training. The conditions were perfect. After a few hours, the unthinkable happened: an involuntary gybe, the preventer came off and the boom swung across. We checked up in the rig and saw that the boom had snapped in two places. No, not the boom. We took down the mainsail and secured it. The boom was broken, so the tack was chafing against the mast. We took every halyard we had and began to lower the boom down onto the deck. It's heavy and everyone had to help to make it happen. Once it was down on deck we could secure the mainsail and hoist it back up onto the bimini. Darkness fell and we called it a day. I spent the night sketching and making plans. How were we going to fix this? When the light woke us up and we gathered for breakfast, I had a plan ready. My plan was to detach the sail from the mast and roll it from below. That way, the thick sailcloth together with the lower battens would form a new boom. Everyone was given a job, now we would fix this! We lift, stretch, roll and secure. 8 hours later, we gathered on the flybridge. Hans started hoisting the sail and it stood once more. Everyone gave a sigh of relief and start applauding, we're on our way again! No two days in a skipper’s life are ever alike. One day you're king of the waves, the next you're the ship’s doctor, and on the third day you're making soup from a nail. Sincerely, Fredrik Olsson aboard Sirli