Sailing: the essentials

Forget about life jackets and wind readers. THIS is the stuff you need to sail (and live) well

Jul 09, 2024

It was John Ruskin who said: “The best things in life aren’t things.” Good point. But he didn’t live in the age of the air fryer. Or the electric fan. Or the mini-hoover. I’m here to tell you that a few well-chosen items really do have the ability to enhance one’s existence - and never more so than when you live on a boat.

But first! An update on our whereabouts. Due to the plethora of technical problems I mentioned in last week’s post (leaky engine, malfunctioning autopilot, unspeakable plumbing event), we were moored up in the city of Volos, north of Athens, for several days. Here, an army of talented yacht technicians set about pulling apart the Turtle’s insides, even unclogging its bowels using an industrial-scale plunger (which did go some way in explaining why the surrounding sea water is green and smells of pond).

It wasn’t all bad, though. We skedaddled back to the Sporades for the weekend, where I insisted we make holy pilgrimage to an extremely sacred church. Perched high on a clifftop on the island of Skopolos, the church of Agios Ioannis Kastri forms the backdrop to what is, I think, the most important piece of cinema since Brad Pitt emerged pouting from the Trojan Horse (the bit in Mamma Mia when Meryl Streep sings The Winner Takes it All while Pierce Brosnan looks on all brooding). There was just one problem. Being on the island’s northern edge, approaching by boat proved extremely perilous - with high winds, rough waves and enormous rocks to contend with. Still, so moved were we by the holy spirit, that we dropped anchor and hoped for the best - diving into the water, swimming to the nearest beach, then marching off up the hill, while beachgoers looked on, bewildered.

Look, Charlie made me pose for all of these pictures (although admittedly I didn't put up much resistance)

Back in Volos on Monday, we bided our time by trotting up and down the city’s (actually quite lovely) waterfront and gorging on local delicacies like pickled mackerel, seabass ceviche and octopus wrapped in lamb (actually ngl that last one was a bit weird). The city’s homeware shops were also top-notch (by which I mean there was a Flying Tiger). This was thrilling to me as I was in the market for some battery-operated candles. And some string lights. And a lime juicer. Whenever I feel compelled to buy items such as these, I’m reminded of this piece George Monbiot wrote for the Guardian in 2012, which points out that we are destroying the planet to make pointless plastic objects that are ultimately destined for landfill. So, I really do try to buy only what is absolutely essential (which, being a millennial, I do deem string lights to be).

People think that sailing is about living simply: following the wind, catching fish, foraging for urchins, swimming in the sea, visiting historic places of worship. And it is. But it’s also about quaffing margaritas, watching Troy on a portable projector and air frying assorted vegetables (plus quite a lot of feta). And these things do all require the right bit of kit.

Lights, candles, portable projector: all the essentials

Up until this trip, I was always extremely anti the air fryer. But living on a boat changes you - and I now truly believe it to be the single greatest kitchen invention since the hand-held milk frother (obvs I’ve got one of those too). Traditional boat ovens are TINY and slow and use up a lot of gas. Not like the air fryer. So speedy! So energy-efficient! My mother was right, god damn it.

My mum: you should get an air fryer

Me: No, I’m all about living simply, without gimmicky electronic devices that clutter up the countertop. I’ll likely cook over live fire most days or otherwise just subsist on raw fish and cucumbers

Me one week later: we have purchased an air-fryer

Other highlights include the mini-hoover(!), an electric fan and the aforementioned portable projector, all of which, I’m sorry to say, have truly enhanced our boating experience. I am also extremely attached to my Kobo, which is exactly like a Kindle except not owned by Bezos (I can’t feel too smug about this, however, as we do own a Starlink satellite - founder: Elon Musk - which provides us with undeniably excellent high-speed internet) (although for quite lengthy legal reasons we can only use it when we’re on anchor).

Really, I like books made from paper, but these are tricky to get hold of in the middle of the Med. Also, they don’t have light-up screens - an exciting technological advancement which means I can read late into the night without Charlie having a hissy fit about the bedside lamp disturbing his REM. As a result, I am positively tearing through my reading list. The Kobo even enables you to look up words and highlight paragraphs - like the one below from Katherine Heiny’s excellent Early Morning Riser, which I thought was quite apt for this post.

“Yes, of course you could live without handheld mixers and garlic bread, but could you live well? … To live well, you needed garlic bread. Garlic bread and satin pillowcases. And leather jackets. And salad spinners, and rinse aid, and People magazine and iTunes, and scented candles, and hair detangler and eye masks, and sex, and love.”

I actually find life perfectly enjoyable without a salad spinner. But everyone has their own version of that list - and living in a floating motorhome has really given me pause to consider mine. Alongside the aforementioned electrical items, it goes something like: soft cotton sheets, several swimming costumes from Cos, Bananagrams, tequila, and a stocked-up snack cupboard (roasted almonds, salted peanuts, emergency crisps).

Charlie’s version would include practical things like life jackets and lithium batteries, plus a dozen or so fishing rods and a ridiculously overpriced hoverboard thing (which he insists I tow him around on, looking absolutely delighted with himself as he is slammed down into the wake). But the ultimate luxury item surely must be the boat itself.

To misquote Heiney: Yes, of course you could live without a boat, an air-fryer, a mini-hoover and a hoverboard, but could you live well? I’m not so sure.

Anyway, after a week of works - which mostly involved engineers pulling up the floorboards and saying the word “caput” a lot - we were ready and raring to leave Volos. At which precise moment, it was realised that a vitally important cable was missing, without which we cannot assess wind direction or speed. Still, after a quick risk assessment, we decided to sail away without it. I mean really, how big a deal is wind anyway? So long as we have a lime juicer, I reckon we’ll be ok.