Where it all Began: A Journey of Discovery

In life, opportunities often come knocking at unexpected times, opening doors to experiences that shape our lives in profound ways. For me, one pivotal moment arrived when I was offered the chance to embark on life-changing voyages aboard Challenge 72 yachts with the Tall Ships Youth Trust. From the age of 19, these journeys not only allowed me to traverse vast oceans but also provided a platform for personal growth and the realisation of dreams. As I reflect on my sailing adventures, I am reminded of the remarkable impact they had on my life and the connection they forged to my late father's own passion for the sea.

If you’d told 19-year-old me that one day I’d be crossing oceans on a 72-foot yacht, I’d have laughed. Back then, life was small in the best kind of way — familiar, routine, rooted in the same few streets I’d grown up around. We didn’t really have the means to go abroad when I was growing up, so travelling far never crossed my mind as something I’d get to do. My world was home, friends, music, and college. Adventure was something that happened to other people.

Then one day, it didn’t.

I can still remember hearing about the bursary through my local youth group. The idea was to give young people from ordinary backgrounds the chance to go on a sailing voyage with the Tall Ships Youth Trust — to learn teamwork, resilience, and leadership. It sounded incredible but completely out of reach. I didn’t know a single person who’d done anything like it. Still, something in me sparked. I filled in the form. I didn’t know it then, but that moment changed everything.

Getting Afloat – The First Challenge 72 Voyage

I joined my first Tall Ships Youth Trust Challengervoyage over the Christmas holidays of 2007. The boat was Challenger 1 — a 72-foot steel yacht that had once raced around the world. I can still picture myself standing on the pontoon in Portsmouth, luggage in hand, staring up at the mast towering above me. Everything about it felt enormous.

There were about a dozen of us, all roughly the same age, trying not to look nervous as we stood in a line while the skipper and mate ran through the safety briefing. Most of us had never been to sea before. I didn’t know a halyard from a sheet, but by the second day I was hauling ropes, scrubbing decks, and trying to look like I belonged.

The weather was cold and unpredictable — typical for December — but that didn’t matter. The smell of salt and diesel, the slap of the water against the hull, and the way the wind filled the sails for the first time — it was magic. I was hooked.

We sailed from Portsmouth to Cowes, on to Poole, and back again. Each leg brought something new: the first rough patch of sea and the seasickness that came with it, the night I took my first turn at the helm, and the pride that came from getting a job right after several failed attempts. By the end of the week, we were a crew. We’d learned to trust each other, to laugh off mistakes, and to keep going even when we were cold and tired. Somewhere along the way, I realised I’d found something I hadn’t even known I was missing.

Moments of Growth

A couple of years later, I was back — this time for a longer passage from Lisbon to Madeira aboard another Challenger yacht. Eight days at sea. I still remember how nervous I felt stepping aboard, thinking maybe that first experience had been a fluke and I’d forgotten everything. But once we cast off, it all came back.

That voyage was different. The seas were bigger, the winds stronger, and the rhythm of life on board steadier. I learned to settle into the watch system — six hours on, six hours off — and to function on little sleep. I learned that when the sea is rough, simple things like brushing your teeth or getting dressed become minor challenges. I learned that you can feel sick, wet, exhausted, and still find yourself smiling at a sunrise.

Somewhere between Portugal and Madeira, the confidence I’d started to build turned into something solid. I began to trust myself. I wasn’t just following instructions anymore — I was part of the team, contributing, teaching newer crew what to do. That feeling of belonging, of purpose, stayed with me long after we tied up in port.

Horizons Wide Open

Those early voyages changed how I saw the world. Each trip widened my perspective a little more. The more I sailed, the more I realised how big life could be — how many places there were to see and how much there was still to learn. It opened my eyes to possibilities I’d never really thought about before.

I went on to sail in all sorts of conditions and with all kinds of people — students, volunteers, seasoned sailors, complete beginners. Every time, I came away with new stories, new lessons, and a deeper respect for the sea.

What began as a bursary trip in my teens quietly became a thread running through my adult life. Every time I step aboard, I feel that same spark I felt in Portsmouth back in 2007.

Carrying My Dad With Me

The sea also brought me closer to my dad. He’d stopped sailing before I was born, but his stories stayed with me. Being out there, under the same stars and with the same salt on my face, gave me a way to keep his love for the sea alive, even after he was gone.

It’s hard to put into words, but when I’m at sea, I feel connected to him — as though I’ve stepped into the same world he once knew. I sometimes catch myself thinking how proud he’d be to see me out there, doing something he loved so much. In that sense, every voyage has been a way of honouring him.

Looking Forward

Those early experiences on the Challenge 72s shaped so much of who I am. They gave me confidence, resilience, and a sense of direction that’s never really left me. They also planted the seed for everything that came after — my work, my drive to keep learning, and my determination to say yes to opportunities that scare me a little.

I still find myself chasing that same feeling I had as a teenager stepping aboard for the first time: nervous, excited, unsure, but ready to give it a go. The difference now is that I know what’s waiting on the other side of that fear — the camaraderie, the laughter, the moments of calm when the sea goes glassy and the world feels still.

When I look back at where it all began, I see more than just a sailing trip. I see the start of a journey that’s still unfolding — one that connects me to my past, to the people I’ve met along the way, and to the sea itself.

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