Learning to Sail When You’re Used to Being Good at Things

Learning how to sail — and preparing to move onto a yacht — has been far more confronting for me than I ever expected.

I love the idea of this life. The freedom of going to new places. Meeting new people. Ocean swims. Salt water, blue horizons, and everything that comes with living close to the sea.

I honestly thought, I’ve got this.

I’m from Africa. I’ve immigrated. I’ve moved countries, cities, careers. I’ve started again more than once. I figured this would just be another version of that.

What I didn’t realise was that sailing requires an entirely different skill set — one I don’t naturally have.

For most of my life, I’ve been above average at what I do. I excelled at sport. I communicate well. I can talk to anyone. I pick things up quickly. I consider myself emotionally intelligent and very good at my chosen career.

Sailing life?

Whole new ball game.

In this world, I’m not above average. I’m not even average.

I’m below average.

Nothing about this comes naturally to me. It’s like being a child again, learning from scratch — except you’re doing it with 57 years of life experience, a strong sense of identity… and a slightly bruised ego.

You quickly realise you are not in control.

And at some point, you have a choice:You either learn — properly learn — or your partner sails alone while you become an ornament on the boat.

And that’s not fair to either of you.

So here are five things sailing life has already taught me.

1. You must concentrate when you walk around a boat

I have hit my head so many times I’m pretty sure I’ve changed the shape of it. Bruises. Scratches. An aching body from using muscles I didn’t even know existed. A boat does not forgive inattention.

2. Nothing is straight. Nothing is simple.

Everything has a funny shape or angle. Mattresses have to be specially cut. Cupboards curve. Spaces shrink. Nothing just fits the way it does in a house.

3. Your big TV stays at home

There is nowhere for it. Nowhere logical. Nowhere at all. You learn very quickly what actually matters — and what was just habit.

4. There is so much to learn

Weather. Navigation. Systems. Rules. And approximately ten thousand different names for parts of the boat — all of which you’re supposed to remember while the boat is moving.

5. You are not in control — the ocean is

This one has been the hardest. The ocean doesn’t care how capable you think you are. You can’t muscle through it. You can’t out-plan it. At some point, you have to let go and trust — the boat, the conditions, and the process.

This journey has humbled me in ways I didn’t see coming.

But maybe that’s the point.

Starting again doesn’t always mean being brave and confident. Sometimes it means being awkward, slow, bruised, and very aware of what you don’t know.

It has also meant tears — lots of them. Tears for the parts of myself I thought I needed, for identities that once kept me safe, and for things I’m learning to let go of even though they still feel like me.

And then choosing to loosen my grip anyway.

And choosing to learn anyway.