Sailing in offshore regattas – it sounds like fast, high-tech racers, money and professional athletes. But there’s another way. Many sailors prioritise adventure over their finishing position. And the barriers to entry are often lower than you might think.
Old racing yachts usually cost less than a small car, whilst sprightly fibreglass classics can change hands for as little as a few thousand euros. Or the boats have served as family holiday vessels for decades, having so far only demonstrated their racing qualities in small Sunday races, and are now ready for the big adventure. Added to this is the fact that more and more regattas are filling the calendar, where the experience counts, not the result. Participants are seeking adventure on the water – competition, yes; fierce rivalry over every place, no. Anyone who wants to join in doesn’t need a fat wallet. What’s required is courage, pragmatism and a willingness to roll up your sleeves and get stuck in.
Take, for example, a crew and their crazy mission involving a racing legend: buy, sail the Fastnet, sell. Thomas Görlich was part of that crew. He explains how the idea turned into a great adventure.
Thomas Görlich: We are a group of former Opti dads who got to know one another over the years at campsites and regattas along the Baltic and North Sea coasts. We spent countless weekends together whilst our sons and daughters took part in their sailing adventures. At some point, one of our group bought an IOR 50-foot yacht, the ‘Morningstar’ (it sank during the 2023 Baltic Sea storm surge). At first we thought he was mad, but then we went on board ourselves and turned it into a proper regatta project. The highlight of it all was the ORC Worlds in Kiel. We weren’t competitive sailors, we didn’t have any top-of-the-range kit, but it was an incredible team experience. Eventually, we started looking for a follow-up project. After a while, the former ‘Saudade III’ turned up. In a cloak-and-dagger operation, we finally bought her. There were five of us and we paid very little for her. The cost was roughly equivalent to the value of a second-hand small car.
Just imagine what you get for the money. Old regatta yachts like this one are completely undervalued. Back in 1989, she was the best you could buy. The owner at the time, Albert Büll, had her built in New Zealand. He must have given the shipyard a blank cheque. The hull is made of full carbon fibre, and some of the old titanium fittings are still fitted – simply because they weigh less. In short: the boat has everything that was possible back then. A year later, Hasso Plattner bought the yacht and renamed it ‘ABAP/4’. This was at a time when more and more electronics were finding their way on board. The boat presumably also served as a testing ground for the SAP co-founder. However, nothing of that remains today. The boat subsequently changed hands several times. The Rostock Academic Sailing Club (ASV) took her over and sailed her under the name “Universitas”. She then went on to Denmark.
I can’t say that’s the case for our boat. By the standards of the time, it was state-of-the-art in terms of materials science. By today’s standards, it’s completely over-engineered: there are five or six centimetres of solid carbon fibre in the keel area – nobody does that anymore. The sails were a problem, though. Buying new ones would have been completely out of proportion to the boat’s total cost. We were lucky that a reasonably serviceable set of racing sails was included. The mainsail did fall apart on the reach to Fastnet Rock, but we still had a Dacron sail for the return journey. We bought the spinnakers second-hand on eBay Classifieds – the dimensions don’t have to match that precisely there.
In hindsight, that turned out to be a wise move, because after the race, once we’d reached our goal, a certain sense of emptiness settled over us. We were exhilarated by this intense experience. We discussed what might happen next, but our ideas differed. It was helpful, then, that we’d agreed on things clearly from the start. That made the whole thing much easier.
As we’d sailed with the ‘Morningstar’ before, we knew what we were getting ourselves into. Looking back, that was a good thing, because these boats have their quirks. We were even warned – the boat is notorious. The mast has snapped at least twice, probably more often. It does have backstays and a backstay, but they’re as thin as a rake and serve purely as trimming aids. There were also people who backed out. But the five of us went for it anyway and never had a bad feeling about it. We trusted one another, could assess what we were capable of and where our limits lay – and by that I don’t mean the boat’s limits, but those of the crew. It was always clear: our aim was to get the boat to the starting line. Whether we’d race, how far we’d go and whether we’d see it through were entirely separate matters. The term ‘humility’ might be a good fit here. Not overconfident, not overestimating our own abilities, but well prepared.
The whole thing was conceived as a low-budget project right from the start. Not because there was no other way, but because that was part of the challenge. We did as much as possible ourselves: We replaced the backstays, changed the cylinder head gasket with the help of a YouTube video and a crate of beer, and rebuilt the missing pipe berths. To do this, we bought a cheap pipe bender and aluminium pipes, and sewed the covers ourselves from garden furniture fabric. After that, we went through the whole boat: we replaced cables, built a cooking area out of two Jetboils and fitted out a toilet ourselves. Pragmatic and straight to the point. It worked out really well. It’s fantastic how much energy a shared goal can unleash.
I’d say the cost was roughly the same as a two-week family holiday. However, it was considerably cheaper than if we’d travelled individually on a cabin charter – and we had ten times as much fun.
Actually, the journey to Cherbourg was almost the biggest challenge of all. The weather was bad, and of course we were always riding into a headwind. We really got a proper beating. Luckily, we’d allowed plenty of time and were able to stop off without any qualms.
Just before the race, things got a bit tight again: the stability certificate required by the Offshore Special Regulations was missing. We enquired with Farr Yachts. ‘No chance,’ was the reply. Then, by chance, Arthur Peltzer, a ship architect friend of ours, had an idea. With 300 kilograms of lead in the bilge, it should do the trick. We sourced the material, installed it and had the boat measured again. We met the required value by 0.5 points. Had the measurement failed, the project would have ended there.
The race itself went smoothly. The upwind leg across the Celtic Sea was a real experience. The waves get longer, it gets more intense, but less strenuous than in the English Channel. Things go quiet on the radio too – that’s when you know you’re really out there. Around midday we arrived at Fastnet Rock – and suddenly the sun came out. Those were moments to pause and reflect.
For me personally, the navigation was particularly exciting – that was my role. I’ve never sailed a race that offers so many navigational possibilities. The tide, the currents: from a navigational point of view, it’s a real treat.
Not at all. We simply placed some adverts as normal. Then people got in touch, and one of them was brave enough to go through with it. I’m curious to see where the boat will turn up next. I’ve told the current owner to be prepared: he’ll be approached in every harbour. It was exactly the same for us. People recognise this boat; the feedback we get time and again is that it’s something special. A one-off – something completely different from any mass-produced boat.
In exactly the same way? I don’t think so. But that’s perfectly normal for projects with a specific goal. Once you’ve achieved it, they lose their appeal. The dream has come true; now I need another wild idea, a new goal. And that has to create that same sense of excitement all over again. I can certainly recommend it, though – if only for the team experience. Taking responsibility together, tinkering together, standing up for one another: that’s actually almost more important than the Fastnet Race itself. It creates a very special magic, a team spirit that has the potential to reward you immensely.
Yes, absolutely. The term ‘positive trauma’ came up during a conversation we had. You’re so overwhelmed by the experiences that you’re left speechless.
In 1988, Ian Franklin built this one-tonne yacht to plans by Bruce Farr. The client was Albert Büll, a German offshore sailing pioneer. The design was technically cutting-edge and made a name for itself in the sailing world. This was partly due to its participation in major regattas such as the One Ton Cups (1989/90) and the ORC World Championship (2014). In 1989, Hasso Plattner bought the boat and christened it “ABAP/4”. Later, ASV Rostock took over the yacht, renaming it “Universitas”. Today it bears a different name – but is still sailing.
Do offshore adventures really require a lot of money – or, above all, courage, pragmatism and a resilient team? Please feel free to share your views and experiences of old regatta yachts or low-budget projects in the comments.

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