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# The Boat Is Great. The Sailor Miserable.
- URL: https://icefrontiers.com/the-boat-is-great-the-sailor-miserable/
- Published: 2026-05-18T00:10:05.000Z
- Updated: 2026-10-08T00:55:50.000Z
- Description: Two days into my first offshore passage, the boat is performing beautifully while I struggle with seasickness, exhaustion, and doubt. A reflection on uncertainty, resilience, and simply getting through the next watch.
- Author: Jean Peccoud
- Tags: Logbook

We left Opua on Thursday around lunchtime on a boat I had sailed for perhaps two hours in total. Charly, my skipper, had not sailed her at all.

A significant leap of faith.

The boat turns out to be fantastic. She is fast. We are cruising above 10 knots most of the time, reaching 12 knots in the gusts. On most sailboats I sailed before, 5 knots was considered normal cruising speed, and reaching 6 knots was worth celebrating.

Compared to speeds on land, the difference between 6 knots (11 km/h) and 12 knots (22 km/h) may seem insignificant. On water, it is a different story. The amount of water displaced by the boat is orders of magnitude larger. At 12 knots, recovering a man overboard feels deeply unlikely because of the speed, the inertia, and the time required to turn a ship like this around.

But we are logging close to 200 nautical miles per day, and the boat gracefully finds her way through the waves, leaving the cockpit mostly dry.

She is a great boat.

The story inside the boat is more complex.

We had an hour or so in the protected waters of the Bay of Islands to hoist the sails and find our bearings. I even made an omelette for lunch before reaching the open sea. I was very proud of myself. I felt I had this under control. At least the galley part.

That feeling did not last long.

Very quickly after leaving the protection of the New Zealand coast, the sea grew rougher, and my stomach could not hold lunch much longer. It came out the way it went in.

For two days, anything I tried to eat or drink bounced back within minutes. That is not sustainable. Eventually dehydration and exhaustion caught up with me. I became weak and mostly non-functional.

I spend most of my time on my berth. Standing is hazardous because of the boat movements. And lying there, I find myself wondering why I am doing this to myself.

I clearly cannot handle the boat. I can barely handle myself.

What was I thinking? Why did I believe it was a good idea to have deep thoughts about climate and uncertainty in a place where I struggle to survive? One of those ideas that sounds compelling on paper but feels completely disconnected from reality once tested against the physical world.

If I wanted to write, I only needed to keep my office. If I wanted to sail, I did not need the excuse of writing to go sailing.

So the boat is great, the sailor miserable, and the project suddenly seems deeply flawed.

But that is exactly the uncertainty I came here to confront.

There is no assurance of outcomes. No assurance that I will become capable of sailing this ship. No assurance that anything interesting or original will emerge from trying to write in this environment.

What I can do, however, is get up. Get dressed. Prepare for the 1 a.m. to 4 a.m. watch.

I can do that for Charly so he can sleep.

I can carry the weight I am capable of carrying.

Not much more than staying awake, keeping the boat on course, and making sure we do not hit anything along the way.

Even nauseous, weak, and dehydrated, I can still do that.

And for today, that is enough.

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