Michael Sinzel has owned the "Pantagruel" since 1996. It was "love at first sight" when he discovered the ship over a quarter of a century ago, he says. A lot has happened since then. Over the past few years, the 59-year-old has left all security and shore life behind and sailed many thousands of nautical miles instead. Most recently, he wanted to sail around the world on the aged classic, but the South Seas were the end of the line - at least for the time being.
Michael Sinzel: Then I feel honoured! I'm not worth less because I live on a lower financial level than many of my guests who have travelled on the "Pantagruel" all these years. I've learnt that money doesn't make you happy. Many people are literally trapped in their professional lives. But maybe I'm also a person who likes to block out the bad things.
That was in Fiji. As in the Caribbean, there is also a cyclone season in the South Pacific. It's best not to be there with your boat at this time! Due to the pandemic, however, there were hardly any opportunities for me to seek shelter elsewhere two years ago. New Zealand, for example, where we had previously been, suddenly stopped letting anyone in. And then, just before Christmas, we were hit by one of the strongest cyclones ever seen in the South Pacific.
We brought the boat into a small, narrow, sheltered bay with high rocks around it, positioned the anchor properly and deployed eight lines ashore. I felt quite safe! And I wouldn't know what I could have done better today.
Gradually, almost all the lines broke.
Because the wind was too strong. A brand new line also broke. The ship was pushed under an overhanging rock. It got stuck there. The winches were pushed through the deck and when the water rose in the bay, it ran into the boat from above. We eventually had to rescue ourselves on land.
No. Hours passed before the boat really sank. But at some point you just can't do anything except save yourself and your things. I was desperate then; it was terrible!
The phones stopped working at first. Boats were also not allowed to go out to rescue us. So we had to hold out for two days in the rain on an uninhabited little island, among ants and scorpions. But first of all, you're lucky if nobody is injured.
I was actually quite depressed at first! I was alone over Christmas, things had slipped away from me: people from the neighbouring villages started taking all sorts of things off my boat. You shouldn't take it personally, people in Fiji are mostly poor. But they are very hospitable and warm! And I still had more than they did: That puts a lot of things into perspective. I initially stayed with a village policeman and tried to organise the salvage of the "Pantagruel".
Well, the insurance company wanted to cover 75 per cent of the recovery costs if a recovery was officially ordered. My policeman then issued me with the corresponding order. Then we were ready to go. The salvage company came with two boats, two divers and three large hoses, which were pulled under the boat and inflated. After three days, the yacht was afloat again and could be towed to a marina 250 miles away. In some cases, I was even able to sail again!
For ten months! My ex-girlfriend launched a fundraising campaign, which raised 30,000 euros. Many friends also supported me. When the insurance company then agreed to cover part of the damage, my situation was no longer so desperate. I knew I could manage it.
Yes, it was economically unreasonable to save the "Pantagruel". And it was also much more costly and difficult than I initially thought.
Just one family! And their relatives are more suited to the rough work, not so much to the fine work. I had to hire a carpenter for that. At times I had eight or nine people working on the ship. I had to rent a house for them, register a business and get insurance. That wasn't easy, bureaucracy grinds very slowly in Fiji. And building materials were also a problem. Teak is not available on the islands. Instead, I used Rosava wood, which has similar properties, and also mahogany from the region. I had to order technical equipment for the boat from Germany, Australia, New Zealand and the USA.
Around 140,000 euros - but maybe I'm deceiving myself. But I don't regret it!
I've had pretty much everything in my hands in the meantime. But: 80 per cent of the planks are still original, as is the keel. The wooden masts, however, have been replaced by aluminium masts. The rig is now different and the steering gear also had to be completely replaced. However, the boat has become much more reliable over the years as a result of the various modifications. But it's also true that I can't afford to keep it as it was in 1920! On the other hand, how many boats from back then still sail such distances today?
I don't want to use that word!
The boat was wrecked in 2001, when the hull was professionally coated with epoxy and fibreglass, and the inside is also impregnated with a resin that bonds with the wood. "Shrouds", on the other hand, are the result of using polyester resin when the wood moisture content is too high. I'm confident that my boat will easily last another 20 years.
Sailing around Cape Horn alone was a challenge. But it was already too late in the year for the classic route from the South Seas westwards across the Indian Ocean due to the threat of cyclones. However, the boat did well and I sailed carefully. My goal is to sail no more than 150 nautical miles, reefing from eight knots boat speed. There were no failures apart from the electric autopilot. Fortunately, there is still the wind steering system. I ended up travelling for 93 days.
No! I'm good at being alone with myself. And you can communicate via satellite connections if you want to.
No again! I just watch a film or read a book.
I'm not staying here forever. The desire to return to the South Pacific at some point is there. The original plan was to sail around the world. We got as far as New Zealand, but then the pandemic and the disaster suddenly turned what was initially two years into five. Now my father is turning 80, so I definitely wanted to be at home.
I set off with my girlfriend and it worked until New Zealand - then she bought her own boat. We lasted almost seven years together.
Yes, I'm in Germany for a while now. I no longer have a home on land, apart from two rooms in a friend's attic where my things are stored. The boat is my home - and wonderfully suited to living on it in winter too! It has decent heating and enough space for me. But I might also get a job as a transfer skipper. I'm very flexible and I'm not worried about that. I just don't want to have as many guests on board as I used to.
Yes it is!
I studied civil engineering in Bochum, worked in an engineering office for a few years and at the same time built up a travel company with two buses. In 1996, I added the "Pantagruel", which was my first boat. I had another one for six years, also a yawl, which I chartered. It was the twelve metre long "Maximia", which used to belong to show host Hans-Joachim Kulenkampff. But one boat was enough for me at some point.
You make a living from it. But I also really enjoy sharing wonderful experiences and moments with others. That gives me a sense of satisfaction, even a raison d'être. I've also always had to deal with a rather "low-maintenance" clientele.
Not really. I'm looking for alternative ways and don't value a high standard of living with a house and a car and all that. You can move around more freely if you're not tied down by too many material possessions and the associated worries and obligations.
I saw the "Pantagruel" in an advert at the time; it was supposed to cost 120,000 Deutschmarks. It was love at first sight. But I didn't have the money. And I didn't even know what the boat could do at the time - it was also in a catastrophic condition. So I offered the owner, an architect from Hamburg, to restore it, then charter it out and share the proceeds. He left me alone for many years and I was able to use the boat as I wished. The "Pantagruel" financed itself, so to speak. Before I sailed to the Caribbean for the first time in 2005, I took her over completely.
There were two of us on board and we were a bit pressed for time. We probably overdid it a bit in the storm and sailed high up in the wind with too much sail area. At some point it cracked. We finally sailed across the Azores to England with an emergency mast. Later, the mizzen mast also came down. The boat then spent two winters in Dortmund, where I restored it from the ground up.
Yes, and also as an electrician. And as a plumber. You learn as you go. That's also how I learnt to sail: I did a course when I was a student and then sailed a training cruise on a 32-foot yacht on the Baltic Sea for a week in calm conditions. After that, I had a sailing licence, but I still didn't feel like I could sail. Nevertheless, I just set off and from then on I was always the skipper - and of course I made all the mistakes you can make. But I also learnt a lot that way.
No, I was never arrogant or too risk-averse. Just adventurous. The risk is not in the situation, but in your decision on how to deal with it. Today I sail the "Pantagruel" in 30 knots of wind. 25 years ago, I wouldn't even have gone out in 20 knots of wind. In the beginning, I tried to compensate for my lack of experience by reading all the books I could get my hands on. Only later did I get more sailing licences. I tell others today: that's not the right way to learn, even if it worked for me. It's better to sail with others who know how to do it first and gain experience that way. Today, I would like to pass on my experience as a coach and "cruising mentor". I have already successfully advised many people on their boat projects and plans to get out on the water.
I would like to sail back to the Pacific through the Northwest Passage in 2024. The first winter I had the boat, "Pantagruel" was already in thick ice. The hull withstood that without any problems or damage.