That morning leaving Cornwall on our 28ft gaff cutter Morwenna was the culmination of two years of hard work and a lot of fun getting her ready for ocean sailing; fixing the rotten mast top, replacing a large corner of the coachroof and deck, crafting a new self-draining cockpit, fitting an aries wind vane…. as always with boats, the list goes on. But it wasn’t just Morwenna we had to prepare for sea, it was also ourselves. Leaving a place you love and the warm comfort of good friends and community isn’t easy, but it was something we felt we needed to do. It was time for a new adventure.

After 36 hours of sailing we pulled into Ile de Ouessant, on the North westernmost tip of Brittany. Feeling a little tired, but pretty chuffed with ourselves we decided to cook a roast dinner to celebrate. As we tucked into our lamb shoulder and had a glass of wine, we laughed about how civilised we were to be dining so well after a passage. The sun began to set and the fact that we’d left slowly sank in. I remember it feeling strange, the enormity of possibility and a new start, mingling with the normality of another dinner in the cockpit.

The next morning we set off to cross Biscay. Notorious for foul weather, I had been nervous about this part of the sail, but the time of year was kind and Jasper had picked a good weather window, so our experience was a slow five days of gentle sunny sailing; dolphins off the bow and even swimming together in mirror calm in 4000m of water.

We were heading for Galicia, a region of rugged coastline and excellent surf on Spain’s Northwestern tip. Galicia seemed like a good stop for us, much like Cornwall in landscape and ocean, just with much more space - something we were definitely craving.

A large part of our decision to sail to Galicia was the promise of a project; Jasper’s Dad lives there and had recently bought a little place in a surf town that was in need of a new roof. It was just what we wanted, a chance to get stuck into something on land whilst still being close to the sea and perhaps a break from living on our tiny boat for a winter. 

In reality, for me at least, our new life in Spain wasn’t all I had imagined it would be. Like many places in rural Spain Galicia suffers from huge depopulation and I felt sorely the lack of young people around, whilst also worrying where my work as a photographer and graphic designer would go in a country I neither spoke the language, nor could legally work or live after Brexit. 

For Jasper it was a different story, stoked on the calibre of the surf around and loving his timber-framing job on the house, he took to our new chapter much better than I. But I didn’t want to be beat by loneliness and a new lack of purpose, so I set about getting us a van and fitting it out to camp in. Once we had the van, life looked up again, we could better explore our new surroundings and had our independence back. 

After about 3 months in Spain our time abruptly ended when we were offered a last minute Atlantic delivery on the yacht Jasper’s Dad runs. A few weeks later we were on our way to the West Indies! It was a dreamy 2700 miles at sea, beautiful downwind sailing for 17 days from Tenerife to Antigua. I was the cook and on such a calm passage, with such a large galley I spent my days thinking of what elaborate thing we would eat next; sushi nights, ceviche, quails wrapped in bacon for Christmas dinner….

The passage was also a real time of contemplation for us. Jörn, the other member of crew onboard, a German-Trini and a true sailing legend, became our mentor. Afternoon’s were spent sat around the cockpit table playing cards and talking about the opportunities there were for us if we continued working on boats on arrival in Antigua. 

We arrived the morning after boxing day to a very quiet Nelson’s Dockyard, everybody apparently resting after the Christmas festivities. It also it seemed like the whole island had given each other covid and were trying to hide out and recover before the new year’s parties.

Making landfall in Antigua was special for me, not only because it was my first Atlantic crossing, but also because it was where Jasper grew up. I had heard so much about this small Caribbean island and I was finally able to put names to places and people. After having my first roti (a flatbread filled with curried goat) from Roti-Sue I understood what all the fuss was about! Spending time together where he grew up, I felt like I got to know Jasper in a different way, I got a real sense of the island that shaped who he is. 

I think the combination of sun, clear water and the vibrancy of life above and under the water here began to have its effect on me. I could feel my perspectives changing and that something new was just around the corner for us. I remember my first freedive down the anchor chain at Green Island, my longest breath hold yet, I came up feeling a new person and like I was doing exactly what I was supposed to be doing. I felt as though was a shift about to happen and so soon it was almost tangible. I just didn’t know what it was yet.

We didn’t have much of a plan sailing out there except that we would try and find some work for the next few months, avoid the winter in Europe and then head back to Morwenna, hopefully with enough money to continue cruising with her.

All that changed with a chance meeting to borrow a book off a guy who’d replied to a post on Facebook. That guy was Colin, a loud and loveable Canadian and captain of the fife yawl Latifa. 

We had spotted Latifa from the little house we rented up the hill above Falmouth Harbour, her slender wooden masts standing out amongst all the more modern yachts. When Jasper called by the boat to borrow the book, seeing she was infact the beauty we had been looking at from afar, he asked if Colin needed any day work. ‘No day work’ he said, but he was looking for a new couple to take over the running of the boat from him and his wife Laura….

A couple of days later we were on a zoom call with Latifa’s owner’s and just over a month later we all set off towards Panama. We were headed for the South Pacific! 

It’s crazy how your life can pivot in an instant and suddenly a new path and adventure opens up. Taking the job on Latifa was a big step up for us and no small responsibility. She’s a 78ft yawl, built in Fairslie, Scotland by William Fife in 1936 and it is not uncommon to hear it said that she was his most beautiful design. Sailing and maintaining a boat of Latifa’s power and standard can be hard work, but it is work that we feel incredibly privileged and proud to do. 

We had an incredible trip west; rolling our way through the Caribbean Sea, picking up a rogue pigeon called Derrick en route, a brief stop in the islands of the Guna Yala, before transiting the canal. I was definitely pinching myself when the final lock gates opened, and we emerged into the big blue Pacific.

After some repairs in Panama City we set off for the Galapagos, somewhere I had always dreamed of. Unfortunately our time there was not all we hoped it to be, horribly rolly anchorages, some pretty severe food poisoning, a dodgy scuba dive experience and the difficulty of provisioning with good fresh food for the next leg. Despite all this, I think the wildlife made up for it; freediving in cold clear water in amongst the biggest schools of fish I had ever seen, the enormous turtles, scaly marine iguanas and of course the gregarious sea lions flopping around the towns.

We left Santa Cruz, Galapagos towards the end of April 2022 for our longest passage yet, 3000 miles to the Marquesas. We had a really smooth passage; other than a few bad squalls which were to be expected, it was mostly great sailing. The days were punctuated by our 4 o’clock tea time, a rare moment when we all came together on deck, often with our best shirt and hat on and argued about who had eaten more than their fair share of Elsie’s homemade brownies. 

After 19 days at sea and on a full moon, we made landfall in Nuku Hiva. We were greeted in the darkness by the smell of lush green palms, coconut husk fires and tropical fruit drifting out the bay. I love arriving in places at night, dropping the hook after a long passage, then waking up after the first full nights sleep in weeks to discover new surroundings and jump in for that first swim.

We all enjoyed a week or so exploring Nuku Hiva; we hired a truck and drove around the island, were lucky to see a dance festival and observe a traditional patutiki tattoo ceremony in the village square. The local market was also a sight for sore eyes, stocking up on pamplemouse and fresh salad after weeks of inventive cabbage meals.

Not so long after we arrived in Tahiti the rest of the crew flew home, and Jasper and I were left to our new roles onboard as Captain and mate/cook/stew. We threw ourselves into jobs on Latifa and exploring our new home in time off. Days were spent onboard, mostly sanding and varnishing on deck and working our way through the other maintenance due. Evenings were spent swimming around sunken planes and boats at ‘the aquarium’, or free diving to see the white-tip sharks at ‘the white valley’. We relished joining a workout group in the park and making some friends, and Jasper loved having a new local surf break at Ta’apuna. After so long at sea and never in one place for long, it was great to build a routine again. Working at sea is an active life, but all those hours sat at the helm and not being able to stretch your legs properly definitely take their toll on your body and mind.

Thinking back over the last two years I feel proud of how we’ve grown. It’s taught me that if you are looking for something new you just have to start things in motion and go for it, even if you don’t have a clear vision of what the future looks like. I didn’t know exactly what change I wanted in my life, but I knew that I wanted to spend more time in the water. I used to sit by the fire on Morwenna, a winter gale blowing outside and say to Jasper ‘I just want to swim with the fishes!’ Simplistic and comic as that may sound, I feel that one sentence has guided me here and is really the essence of what I want from life. Everything else falls into place around it.