Yesterday a friend invited us to join him and some other friends on his yacht – Mouflon. I have never sailed before, but I finished reading Margaret Elphinstone’s book, The Sea Road, about a week ago and although I knew we wouldn’t be sailing anywhere near as far North as Gudrid, I was inspired by all the sailing prose to jump at this generous invitation. Also, with the yacht being called Mouflon, all the omens looked good.

I arrived in Eastbourne to meet the rest of the crew on Friday evening, and Mark and I settled into a cosy sleep in our cabin listening to the gentle tinks of steel ropes trailing over masts as boats bobbed gently in the water around Mouflon. Rain fell gently on the outside of the boat above us and an evening of looking at charts had set a suitably maritime mood for the next day’s trip. Yesterday morning we got up, breakfasted heartily and sailed out of the harbour bound Eastwards, for Dover.

Above are the lock gates at Eastbourne Marina closing behind us at 8am yesterday morning. I must point out that I was feeling absolutely marvellous at this point; filled with anticipation and delighted to be so close to the sea.

As the land dwindled to a slim strip of detail on the horizon behind us, we switched off the yacht’s motor in and sorted out our sails so we could proceed on wind-power alone. According to The Shipping Forecast for the 3rd of April, conditions in Dover & Wight were South veering Northwest, 5 or 6 but cyclonic for a time, rain or showers, moderate or good. I think most of the journey out towards the headland at Dungeness was conducted in ‘moderate’ conditions, which to my untrained senses and belly meant that I quickly began to feel as if I were being churned about in one of those bread-dough mixers.

The hearty breakfast was soon lost into the sea, along with most of my dignity. However what I gained was the certain knowledge that I do not have Gudrid’s sea legs.

This was a view during the afternoon when the sea was calm and the sun was out and I had puked up everything that I possibly could, and could therefore appreciate the lovely blue vistas without worrying that I was going to be sick (again.) I did enjoy singing some songs at this point, bantering with the rest of the crew and trying in vain to learn the elusive secrets of the clove hitch. I think we enjoyed ‘good’ conditions for the last couple of hours, but our final arrival at Dover harbour was greeted by 3 knots* of tide and Mark and I could still feel ‘the waves’ when we crawled into our beds to sleep at midnight!

This experience has not put me off future sea-travel. It was very inspiring to be so close to the water and amazing to be moved so far and so fast by the wind alone. Plus, I have the lure of the ultimate wool-inspired Northwards sailing journey as an incentive to get over my fears! Imagine… Harris and Lewis, the Orkney Islands, the Shetland Islands, the Faroe Islands, Iceland (Icelandic knitting article here), Greenland and finally, Newfoundland… but I am getting well ahead of myself.

Everyone was very kind to me considering that I spent much time whimpering and failing to contribute to the general sailing-related activities.

I shall stock up on masses of anti-emetics and anti travel-sickness drugs beforehand if I go sailing again! And maybe I’ll make sure to have a smaller breakfast.

*proper maritime speak for ‘a lot of choppy waves churning the boat around.’