Vollerup, a sleepy town in the Danish province, early in the morning: the light is already on in Volker Hinrichsen's workshop and it smells of freshly ground coffee. Accompanied by mechanical rattling and a slight cracking and crunching noise, the sewing machine needle works its way relentlessly through thick Dacron. Chicken Oui walks in, picks a few spiders out of the corners and then lets the boss caress her. "Our trade secret," smiles Hinrichsen, looking pleased.
A year ago, the 55-year-old gave up his secure career as a senior school teacher in northern Germany to emigrate with his family to the island of Alsen in Denmark. A stone's throw from the Flensburg Fjord, he now repairs sails and makes high-quality sprayhoods and cake stands.
His loft is lovingly and functionally furnished at the same time: In addition to the lacing floor, a huge work surface into which two sewing machines are integrated, antique-looking utensils - including a pair of children's skis made of wood - stand out alongside the classic sailmaking tools.
Volker Hinrichsen was born and grew up on the German-Swiss border. "My first skis. Cute, isn't it?" Regatta photos of a Farr 30 with him as spi trimmer show that it wasn't just winter sports. "This is Harald Brüning's world champion boat 'Topas' at the Voiles 2018 off Saint-Tropez. We won that in our class back then."
Sewing is meditative work. It's just nice to put things together that belong together!"
And then there is a laminated newspaper article on the wall that reports on the Hinrichsens' sailing sabbatical. "The best decision of our lives so far: to spend a year exploring the world under sail with the family. However, after that we were definitely spoilt for a normal working life!" The passionate sailor worked for 20 years as a secondary school teacher at a comprehensive school in Bargteheide, Schleswig-Holstein. "By mistake", as he says with a wink. He moved to Kiel to study to become a teacher, where he met his wife Steffi and also worked as a sailmaker and teacher at the university's sailing centre. It was there that he met Alfred Meyer, a sports lecturer and boat builder, who from then on provided him with advice and support.
However, his passion for sailing was sparked at a young age. It was his father who gave his two young boys a self-built dinghy "to get us off the streets". Within a very short time, they were so keen on sailing that they regularly cycled for kilometres through the mountains from their home in Lörrach to Schluchsee to pursue their new hobby.
On the side, the young Volker draws and builds model boats, including a 1.20 metre long, rod-glued sailing boat, which he assembles from countless sticks. "Back then, I wanted to be either a boat builder or a sailmaker."
The brothers later switched to larger boats. With a 470, they sail every regatta they can, whether in Switzerland, the Mediterranean or the Baltic Sea. This was followed by their own Beneteau First Class 8, which fell off the trailer at night on the way back from the World Championships in La Baule, France, and was totalled. "My first major blow," recalls Hinrichsen, "but I had the wreck transported to Kiel, threw myself into my first major boatbuilding project and completely rebuilt the GRP hull over the winter."
The Baltic Sea became Hinrichsen's second home. He explored the countries of Scandinavia under sail, either single-handed or together with his future wife. Gradually, he developed a desire to see more and sail across the Atlantic. Even as a child, he had already picked out Cape Verde on the globe as his personal dream destination. But that is a long way off and will remain out of reach for him for many years to come.
Volker Hinrichsen originally wanted to study art and become an artist. After reviewing his portfolio at Kiel University, he was invited to the entrance exam but was not accepted. Frustrated, misunderstood and offended, he buries his dream and is persuaded to study to become a teacher.
He then moved to Perth in Western Australia for a year, where he taught German at university. "I was deeply impressed by the spirituality and energy Down Under," he enthuses, laughing as he reaches for a box of old photos. One shows him sitting in a car with a kangaroo. "After a diving trip, I returned to the car and saw from a distance that someone was tampering with it. I crept round the car and was amazed when the kangaroo stared at me with one of my apples in its mouth. But we got on well and even drove through the wilderness together for a while. No kidding!"
Back in "good old Germany", he began working as a civil servant at the school in Bargteheide. "A good and privileged time that we really appreciated." When his wife became pregnant, the nesting instinct kicked in for the first time and the couple started looking for a home of their own. However, the couple quickly abandoned this idea. Too expensive. Too complicated. Not the right time. Then Steffi's unexpected bang: "Why don't we buy a big boat and sail around the world with the kids for a year?" This time, the apple almost falls out of Volker's mouth - he can hardly believe his luck!
A ship with character was needed."
The two give themselves a planning period of four years, during which Volker Hinrichsen continues to work full-time for a reduced salary so that he also has an income during his sailing sabbatical. The only thing missing is the right ship! For the planned long voyage, it should not be a new boat from mass production or a soft-sailed charter ship from the Mediterranean. Rather a boat with character that you can identify with. As the dollar is currently plummeting, blue water yachts are popping up on the internet at moderate prices, some of which the Hinrichsens had never heard of. No matter, the USA becomes the chosen hunting ground for a boat.
"As Steffi was now heavily pregnant, my mentor Alfred Meyer flew to America to inspect boats for us that we had picked out. However, he strongly advised us against them and instead went on a road trip along the US East Coast to find a suitable boat for us." In Boston, he finally came across a John G. Alden 44, a moderate long-keeler, which he recommended to his friends. "That's what you want. A safe, good-natured boat. And if you ever sail into a whale, the keel won't fall off," he said at the time, Hinrichsen recalls. The only disadvantage: in harbour manoeuvres, the ship behaves "like a cow in the water" due to its design.
During the crossing in 2007, Hinrichsen, Meyer and another co-sailor were caught in heavy gales in the middle of the Atlantic, turning the first trip into a "tour through hell". For days on end, they run downwind under top and rigging, at times having to tie themselves not only to the deck but also below. After four weeks, the first landfall on Guernsey and the redemptive call to the new mum and twins.
The following sailing time out with the "Hitch-Hike-Heidi", as the boat is now called, is almost like a picture book. The mainsail only tore once off the Cape Verde Islands due to a patent jibe, and there was actually a collision with a sleeping sperm whale near the Azores, which, as predicted, did not damage the keel. "We were sailing at night at four and a half knots and initially thought that we had hit sand, as the impact was relatively gentle. Nevertheless, things were flying off the chart table and I was expecting the mast to come down with trembling knees. There was movement in the water outside, so it was clear what must have happened. We later learnt that a pod of sperm whales hangs close together vertically in the water during their sleeping phase and the probability of hitting one is therefore relatively high."
Otherwise, the family enjoyed the Atlantic bend and the Caribbean to the full: "Rain or shine, we literally clapped our hands and laughed every morning because we were looking forward to the new day. At four years old, the children were at an ideal age. They already understood a lot, but were not yet subject to compulsory schooling. It's just a shame that they can't remember almost anything today. Nevertheless, we believe that this long journey has made them more self-confident and hungry for life."
The part-time dropouts want to savour the positive experiences and the many encounters with other sailing families and residents of the destinations they visited for a long time to come. However, after just a few weeks, Volker Hinrichsen feels that the year he has experienced has been "blown away". Nevertheless, he ended up buying a house in Bargteheide and the years at the school dragged on. "At some point, I found myself in an emotional Legerwall situation from which I could no longer free myself. Every Monday I would dive into the world of work, apnoea throughout the week, and come back up at the weekend - the only thing I could do was get back on my boat. Despite all my privileges, my life had become very volatile, I was trapped."
I found myself in an emotional Legerwall situation that I could no longer sail myself out of. Every Monday I would dive into the world of work, apnoea throughout the week, and come back up at the weekend - the only thing I could do was get back on my boat."
Steffi also notices her husband's dissatisfaction and advises him to change direction. But what does his heart beat for? His sewing machine has been in the living room for some time, sewing panniers and sprayhoods for himself and friends. As property prices in Germany continue to rise, they take advantage of this and come up with an ambitious plan: sell the house with enough profit to pay off the remaining loan and buy a new home in southern Denmark - and then set up a workshop there.
Planned, done: Volker Hinrichsen gives up his career as a civil servant and the family dares to make a new start in the neighbouring country to the north. "If we hadn't had the time off sailing together with all the positive experiences and the realisation that setting off and letting go can be a huge gain, we definitely wouldn't have dared to emigrate."
Without the experience that setting out and letting go can be a huge gain, I wouldn't have given up being a civil servant."
The Danish authorities prove to be refreshingly helpful and solution-orientated. "After a phone call with the authorities, you really feel like you have a friend - you feel welcome and not like a petitioner, as is so often the case with German authorities." As a sailmaker, Hinrichsen is considered a seamstress in the textile industry. This, in turn, is a free profession, and so he can set up his workshop at home, in the middle of a residential area. The Hinrichsens quickly feel at home. They like the "direct manner" of the Danes and don't just mean the obligatory "you". "Nobody talks around for long, but tells you straight away what's going on." They also quickly learnt the first rules of behaviour: "What we didn't know, for example, was that you don't ask straight away: 'How are you? A simple 'Hej' as a greeting and that's fine! Or if you visit each other, you bring something with you."
It doesn't take long for the first villager to drop off a parasol for repair, the next comes with a beach chair cover. The neighbourhood services are good for the local network and promote integration. Hinrichsen sometimes does small jobs such as a simple stitch-up for free. However, the ex-teacher has specialised in sprayhoods and cake stands, which stand out both visually and haptically. In addition to cotton blend fabrics, leather plays a special role. "It is more complex to work with, but superior to all other materials in terms of beauty and durability. The reason why I use it also has to do with the knowledge that it is of natural origin. When I used to examine the logo on my jeans and it was made of leather, I always had the feeling that I had a really good pair of jeans."
When asked about the cost of so much high-quality work, Hinrichsen explains that he can't be much more expensive than other manufacturers. "Otherwise they'd hang up the phone straight away!" He accepts the fact that he earns less. He is not interested in maximising profits, but rather in delivering a product that is not only flawless, but also one that people like to touch again and again. "When I'm finished with a cake stand and give it a light tap on the roof, I want to hear the sound of a drum - just like a real body of sound." Then he adds: "That doesn't always work. But if I'm not satisfied with my work, I don't ask for anything in return." He doesn't build new sails, he just repairs them. In the highly developed sail market, he says, he would have no chance of tailoring a competitive cloth.
Another rarity is parked outside his workshop: a Fiberfab Sherpa, an open-top plastic car built in 1975 that looks a little military, but at the same time harmless. It was stolen from Hinrichsen 25 years ago and crashed - it broke in two. Laminated back together - thanks to GRP - and now retrofitted with a cake stand, it is waiting to be registered in Denmark so that it can be used as a cuddly advertising vehicle in the future.
The "Hitch-Hike-Heidi" has also come to Denmark and has found a new home port in neighbouring Høruphav. As local residents, the emigrants were immediately given a berth without having to wait on the popular harbour's long waiting list. "There are almost only Germans in the harbour, so you feel a bit like an intruder. I would prefer to set the Danish national flag, but we're not that Danish yet."
Father and daughter regularly go to the boat in the evenings to chat and watch the stars from the darkened harbour. Even though the boat is no longer moved as often as in the past, it has remained the centre of the family. The Hinrichsens have arrived and feel at home in their new adopted home. "Living here is like a long voyage, like a never-ending holiday!"