• The week in pictures
• Recommended reading from the editorial team

Dear readers,

There are sailors who have owned the same boat all their lives. When a halyard strikes outside on the mast, they know exactly which line it is from the sound. They know their boat from the keel bolt to the Windex, have got to know it well over the years and have customised it to their own wishes. They cherish and care for it and enjoy every season with it.

Once a boat has been brought up to a good technical and visual standard, the winter storage work mainly involves maintaining its condition and repairing seasonal signs of wear and tear. This often involves the same work as the previous year: applying antifouling, polishing, working through a small list of defects - and then nothing stands in the way of craning in at the start of the season. When hoisting the mast, a long-standing owner knows exactly which bolt goes where and how to lay and secure the lines so that everything runs smoothly. Shortly after craning in, the boat is moved to the berth where it has been moored for many years. In an optimised box, with lines spliced to the right length and a doormat nailed to the jetty.

Sometimes I get a little envious when I meet and get to know such owners. People who have perfected their (sailing) life to such an extent and have developed a certain routine.

Because I myself - at least that's how I feel - start from scratch almost every year.

In the 24 years of my sailing life so far, I have had 14 sailing boats. The first was a dinghy, all the others were cruising boats. One daggerboard, one centreboard, two catamarans, nine keelboats.

Why the constant change, almost every two years? Why are there always small to medium-sized construction sites? Is it due to a certain predisposition to masochism?

I wish I knew that. Above all, it was always about finding the perfect ship.

As affordable as possible. I started out as a pupil, then as a student, then as an apprentice. In the beginning, it was therefore always old boats that I bought all over Europe, made ready for sea, brought them home and then renovated them there. But I rarely had the boat for longer than a year. The statistics are distorted by two boats that I owned for much longer, a whole five years: a Contest 33 and a Belize 43 catamaran.

All the other boats were much shorter-lived. Instead of painting antifouling and polishing, we usually went to larger construction sites first. One boat that I bought many years ago was stuck in a river in Holland for a long time. The engine was a mess, the underwater hull had a longer beard than I was able to grow at the age of 22, with large osmosis nests underneath. The previous owner had died a long time ago, so we found food on board that had been expired for twelve years. But after several trips to Holland, the boat shone snow-white again, and when we chugged out of the Kiel Canal into the Kiel Fjord a few months later ... I had already found the next bigger boat.

Incidentally, almost all my boats were handed over "with Pütt un Pann", i.e. all the things that a previous owner accumulates in the course of a sailor's life. They first had to be cleared out. A job that delivers quick results. However, it was always a bit tricky when old sea munitions were found on boats that were difficult to dispose of. My record is a find of three signal rockets that had expired since 1986.

I once bought another boat for a specific purpose, to teach my (then) new girlfriend how to sail. The small Hurley 22 cost just over 1,000 euros, leaked on the first crossing and we always slept on damp to wet bunks. But the boat served its purpose in its first (and only) sailing season: my girlfriend has since become my wife and we have logged 30,000 nautical miles together over the past few years.

During the Corona period, however, we were actually quite happy not to have a boat. After all, sailing was only possible with restrictions anyway. But suddenly a friend offered us his boat in Greece. An area that we didn't even know yet. At the same time, our second child was on the way and we were thinking about taking parental leave with our two boys while sailing. So we had a few pieces of the puzzle in front of us. And suddenly they all fitted together - and the boat was bought sight unseen.

It had been standing on land for three years and initially appeared to be in good condition. But the ravages of time had already taken their toll. The engine wouldn't start, the drinking water tanks had been full of water for three years and were contaminated, and the batteries were flat. So before the voyage began, it was once again a matter of "revitalising" a ship over several weeks of work.

We wanted to own this boat for a little longer. During the entire six months of parental leave while sailing in the Mediterranean (you'll read about it here soon ...), we planned where exactly on the Baltic Sea we would put the boat and what our destinations would be during the summer holidays.

But by the time we tied up the lines in Italy after 1,300 nautical miles, from where the boat would eventually be transported to Germany on a low-loader, we had become accustomed to the Mediterranean and the longing was already strong again. Two weeks later, I had already sold the boat.

Boat number 14 is now another catamaran, a French Mahé 36 from Fountaine Pajot. A boat that has the potential to be ours for the long term. The size is ideal for us as a family of four, even when the children get a bit older. And the mooring in Greece gives us the opportunity to get to know the rest of the Mediterranean over the next few years. Every year in the summer holidays, another stage, from the east of the sea to the west to the Atlantic, then home via Portugal (the Azores?) and France.

Not because we would like to have the ship in the Baltic Sea so much. In fact, it doesn't make much sense. We haven't been sailing there for eleven years. It's more because the journey is the destination and there's an incredible amount of water between where we bought the boat and our home in Schleswig-Holstein that our bows haven't yet crossed. Once we're in Germany, we'll see what happens. Or sail back.

The boat is actually in good condition, owner-maintained and not tinkered with. But it also has a certain maintenance backlog. The batteries and ropes are worn out, the engines have low mileage but are rusty, the upholstery is worn through and the electronics are sparse and outdated. As we want to keep the boat for a longer period of time, as I said, many of the small construction sites are also extended a little, "so we don't have to do it again soon". Instead of replacing the batteries with normal lead-acid batteries, we are switching to lithium, which will of course also involve converting the charging technology and the like. A whole pallet of equipment will be on its way to Greece next week.

"Wouldn't it be much easier if you chartered a few weeks every year?" I was asked recently, "then you'd always have different boats and wouldn't have to build them first"

A good argument. A very good one, in fact.

For the same money (or even less ...) you could also fly to exotic destinations, go sailing in the most beautiful places in the world and simply return the boat afterwards without any worries.

But I don't know why. There are probably no rational reasons. But we are simply not charter sailors.

At least not from the bottom of my heart. We are always very happy when we get the opportunity - and it is by no means the case that I judge charter sailing or owner sailing differently. People are different, both types of sailing are great, and each preference has its justification. In fact, charter sailing, i.e. sharing a boat with several people, is probably even more sustainable and makes more sense.

But we only feel the highest degree of fulfilment when we have gone through the same sequence: buying an old boat, refurbishing it and then taking it on a successful trip. Earning the trip beforehand. For me, that somehow goes together. Just like an electric railway: first build it, then drive it.

And to paraphrase Hermann Hesse, there is a certain magic in every beginning anyway. Taking over a new ship is always a very special moment. It's like being newly in love and slowly getting to know your new partner. Perhaps that is also the reason why I have always bought other boats.

Side note: My wife has remained the same over the years 😉

Johannes Erdmann, Editor YACHT

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The week in pictures:

Recommended reading from the editorial team:

THE OCEAN RACE

Always up to date- Daily updates

Boris Herrmann and the "Malizia" crew take victory in the queen's stage of "The Ocean Race". Now it's time for repairs and preparations for the next leg. Here on yacht.de you will find daily updates and background information on the race!

Season start special

Out of the hall and onto the water!

The new season is finally starting. But before the boat returns to its usual element and sets off on its first trip, there are a few preparations to be made. The big season start guide for all to-dos!

Osmosis special

Recognising, treating and preventing osmosis - the complete guide

The term osmosis is associated with horror for many owners. Usually wrongly so. This special explains what osmosis is all about, when action is needed and how to prevent bladder disease

• Click here for all previous "YACHT Week" columns