Firstly, That I Could: Live with strangers or quasi strangers; live without showers, wine and wifi; use boat facilities; get passed my fear of cooking with gas, and in a metaphorical washing machine on spin cycle; accept that the dog probably peed on my foot more often than I realised, and that plans at sea are doomed to change.

This was actually the hardest thing for me; I find security in plans and definites, and whilst we knew certain things were true (our course to steer would get us to our destination, eventually) there was zero guarantee whether it would be this afternoon, this evening, tomorrow or even – in some instances – four days from now.  I think this is why I started working in terms of watches, indeed I became a bit of a watch master (mistress?).

The wind and weather are not on your side, nor is time, but time is a constant; if you’re on the 8-10pm then you’re on the 2-4am and even if you’re moving at minimal boat speed or have diverted to refuge you’re going to be nearer to your destination at the beginning of the subsequent watch.  Every ships log is a step closer.

Next, Night Watches Are Amazing: I was naive on my first night watch, “I am so excited, I’ll stay awake, no problem!”  Until about thirty minutes beforehand when I realised that all the pros had their audio media (books are forbidden on watch), I had no audio media (I don’t even have music on my phone, except my ringtone, and I’m sure it’s proven fact that any tune once it has been your ringtone for six months induces fear rather than calm).  I felt vastly unprepared.

I did stay awake, and it was great, but I downloaded audio media asap (I’m now fully addicted to and caught up on The Archers) and from there I confidently embraced my watches.  The stars amid a truly black sky – moon rose about 5am – lights of other yachts, sometimes comforting and others alerting when unpredicted, dolphins surrounding the boat like phantoms in the sea, and just the time to sit and think in solitude.

It’s interesting how rare that is; we are often alone but our phone or social media are within grasp, not so sixty miles from land.  There’s the reassurance of a yacht a mile to one side or the other, or passing bizarrely across the bow (depending who was on watch), so a desperate call on ship to ship would get an answer, but that’s a lot more of an historic approach than the immediacy we have grown used to.

Sleeping At Sea: It’s an experience, and you don’t always emerge unbruised, however, as everyone discovered within 48hrs of coming on board, you very quickly learn to sleep when you can.  With an ear open, in case of auto helm fail or, more frequently, the engine being put into neutral and a call of “Fish, fish!” down the companionway…..  and neatly to Fishing: I think fishing kept us sane, it certainly kept us very well fed, I’ve learned how to work a reel, prepare tartare, and that the knot I’ve tied in my hair for years is apparently a fishing knot.

Salopettes Rock: Within the first four days at sea it was evident that something needed to change; watch system with a constant ear and door open means that yesterday’s clothes are today’s clothes and also your pyjamas, ergo – if you favour an underwired bra – chafing.  Then I realised salopettes offer the opportunity for braless sailing!  Hurrah!

And the final thing?  Well, it was never verified, but it was the only time I heard true fear in the voice of our skipper.  Never turn off the bilge pump; we’ll sink!