US-American Luke Hartley grew up in Boston and Philadelphia. He never had anything to do with the sea, let alone sailing ships. At the age of 15, he moved to Oregon on the west coast and began studying music after high school. From then on, he focussed on opera and wanted to become a choirmaster. At 24, he lives in Seattle, is a music teacher and pursues the idea of organising larger concerts.
But a year later, at the end of April 2024, he is suddenly in Mexico, having just turned 25. He is anchored there, living on a small yacht called "Songbird" and planning to circumnavigate the world. He wants to travel for five years or ten, possibly forever.
Why such a change of heart? Why the sudden endeavour to ship his own life onto a sailing boat? Luke Hartley is not a daredevil, not a headless refugee from civilisation. Rather a thoughtful young man who has discovered sailing as a new philosophy of life in record time.
In the interview, he explains what drives him. He is about to take off. His boat is already provisioned. A few days later, he wants to sail single-handed to the South Seas.
Luke Hartley: I anchor in the channel off La Paz at the southern tip of Baja California in Mexico.
Yes, I dive in the sea every day. I harpoon my own food and fish from the boat. The reefs here in Mexico are better than any supermarket. So I rarely have to go to the marinas. They are expensive and I only have a very tight budget.
Absolutely. That is my firm decision.
Yes, that's right. But sometimes things turn out differently than you think. I only made my decision to sail around the world last year - quite spontaneously.
I studied music, specialising in opera and choir. I had just graduated from university at the beginning of 2020, but then the Covid pandemic started. That was a terrible year. Concert halls, stages, music schools, everything closed down or was subject to restrictions. Not a good time for a young student who was about to embark on a career. There were zero jobs. At some point, I applied to a public school in Seattle and started working there as a music teacher.
No, I had completely different dreams. I wanted to put on a big music programme in Seattle. Concerts with lots of students, modern productions, something completely different. But everything turned out differently. It was a difficult year. One thing in particular bothered me: the classroom where I taught had no windows. In winter, I went to school in the dark, spent the whole day in this room and went home again in the dark. That got me down. In my mind's eye, I always saw myself in that classroom. In in the morning, out in the afternoon. That for 40 years? The thought didn't feel good.
During the pandemic, I surfed the internet a lot. That's when I came across sailing. I followed a few channels, especially on YouTube. I saw these people living on their boats and sailing around the world. I fell in love with this lifestyle - even though I had never set foot on a sailing boat before.
I was particularly captivated by the contributions from Sailing Triteia and the Delos crew. I sat in front of their pictures for hours and daydreamed about them. But I also learnt a lot. On some canals, it's not just the marvellous sailing that is celebrated, it's often also about problems. With the technology, the boat, the weather. But that only made me even more excited. In the end, I was fully involved, as if I was on board myself. I was really thinking along with them. I thought about what I would do as a sailor in certain situations. And then I watched what they actually did in the next video. I got so involved that I ended up taking two months off from school. I was hooked on sailing - just from watching it on the internet!
Two years ago, I flew to Mexico on holiday to sail somewhere. I asked around in the harbours and some crews spontaneously took guests on board. That was the first time I had ever boarded a boat. In two months, I travelled on five different yachts - and soaked up everything I could. We sailed off Acapulco on the Pacific coast, then across the Gulf of California.
At home in Seattle, the new school year began. In March 2023, I got corona myself, luckily the illness took a mild course. I couldn't go to school for a week. Instead, I spent a lot of time outside in the air, in the sun. I went down to the water. And there I suddenly realised that my life would soon be different. I made the decision to sail around the world in a split second. It was a very emotional moment. I realised at that moment that I was going to quit my job, buy a boat and sail around the world. Full stop.
I've always had dreams. Never small ones. Mine were always one size bigger.
Just a week later, I had a look at the first one. The very yacht I'm travelling on now, by the way. The Canadian Vancouver 27 was floating next to a slipway on Puget Sound, in a harbour just 30 minutes away from my flat. It had hardly been used for 20 years and had been ashore for a long time. The boat itself was in acceptable condition. However, the rigging, the standing and running rigging, all of it looked pretty bad.
I asked a lot of sailors what kind of boat would be suitable for such a trip on my small budget. They told me to look for a Contessa 26. But these boats were almost exclusively to be found in England. I had done a lot of research in the meantime and knew that the Vancouver 27 had similar qualities. An absolutely seaworthy ship, designed to cross oceans. The first Vancouver 27 to be built sailed from Canada to New Zealand. When the boat returned to Canada, the designer Robert Harris took the mould from this very example. However, my decision was ultimately made for a different reason.
The price was right. I had saved a bit, but as a music teacher at a public school you don't earn much in the USA. I bought the Vancouver for 14,000 dollars and put another 20,000 dollars into it.
Yes, I craned the boat out of the water and got to work. I knew next to nothing about sailing boats and thought it would only take me a week to get the boat ready. In the end, the refit took seven months. And I really did work on the boat every day, often late into the night. And I learnt a lot in the process. About paints, sanding machines, materials.
A lot is also explained in this regard on some YouTube channels. AIS, echo sounder, radar. Many crews report on the equipment they use, the pitfalls of the technology and the advantages. Here, too, I have informed myself as well as possible and devoured many books. And in the end I asked myself: What do I need as a single-handed sailor - and what don't I need? For example, I have radar on board and also AIS. I can see other ships, but I don't send out a signal myself.
Most people were shocked. Many thought: "Sure, you'll get yourself a boat and sail around the world - whoever believes it will be blessed." My parents had a different reaction.
They are both professors, so like me they have teaching jobs. When I told them that I would be giving up my career and thus all my security - job, health insurance, pension scheme - they only said one thing: "Luke, you can't sail! How are you going to manage that?" That made them very nervous.
Yes, of course. But they also saw that I worked on the boat day and night for seven months. They saw how much effort I put into it. How I kept myself informed and prepared. That reassured them a little. However, they were also concerned about something else: the teaching profession is seen as an honourable occupation with social responsibility. You enjoy a good reputation. However, anyone who wants to sail around the world alone is quickly considered a snob or a weird bird. You are suspected of stealing away as a self-righteous hermit.
Once people realise how seriously you take things and what's really behind such a sailing adventure, their doubts disappear. It was the same with my parents. They soon had respect for this adventure. And they also recognised the noble background: the sense of travel, the beauty of sailing, the history of such voyages. And against the backdrop of today's world, it all takes on even greater significance.
I left my berth in Seattle on 7 October 2023. I arrived in Mexico on 17 November. I'm now moored in La Paz and have travelled 4,000 nautical miles. It's a great feeling. Arriving here meant a lot to me. It meant that I could do it. That I can do it. I had completed my first major stage. And it was the first time I had really arrived in a district. I didn't have to keep going straight away. I could anchor in peace and discover the islands here. I was able to enjoy life on board, the tropical temperatures. And that feels wonderful.
I didn't call at any harbours on the way, but anchored ten times. So on this stretch southwards, from Puget Sound off Seattle to Cabo San Lucas in the south of Baja California, I always had longer stretches of sea ahead of me. On the longest leg from the Columbia River to San Francisco, I was at sea for seven days in a row. The conditions were pretty rough. I got caught in the foothills of a hurricane near Alaska and had waves between 25 and 35 feet high for six days. The wind was blowing 25 to 30 knots the whole time.
It was absolutely great. Sailing is one of the most uplifting experiences I've ever had. When you're at the helm, on your own boat that you live on and have worked on every day for seven months - that feeling is indescribable. It's euphoric, almost magical. I wasn't afraid, but I had great respect. And I'm sure that's also because my Vancouver is doing so well. Even when the first storm came. I'm incredibly proud of my "Songbird".
The boat sailed about 150 nautical miles off the coast, past Cape Mendocino. I was in the middle of the ocean. In the last bay in Puget Sound, I had read a book about heavy weather sailing in advance. I studied the chapter on handling a yacht in storms and high waves three times. And everything worked. The reefing, the steering. No breakage, the boat ran perfectly down the wave fronts. I knew that the west coast of the USA could be dangerous. As soon as we crossed the threshold to the open Pacific Ocean, the first 35-foot waves came crashing towards the boat. If I hadn't read the book so carefully beforehand, I don't know what would have happened. And I wasn't alone on board on this first leg.
Not long before departure, I was looking for a fellow sailor on Facebook. Around 30 people immediately got in touch to join me on the route to Mexico. I decided in favour of Angus, a 19-year-old from South Africa. He sailed with me to Cabo and wanted to fly from there to South Africa over Christmas. We got on well and have since become friends. After that, I sailed on alone. Later, I took another sailor with me who wanted to go further south to Puerto Vallarta. And then I was also able to reassure my parents - live, so to speak.
They had booked a short holiday in Mexico last autumn and flew to Mazatlán. When I heard about it, I planned to sail there to meet them. They were both standing on the long pier when I came in with my yacht. That's when they saw me and the boat in action for the first time. I sailed into the bay in a wide arc and dropped anchor. At that moment, they realised that I wasn't going to die on the way. It was a touching moment. For me, for my parents.
Yes, the hurricane season is about to start in Mexico and I want to be travelling then. So in just a few days. I've bought 1,500 dollars' worth of provisions and hauled them on board. That means I can get by for about six months without any outside supplies.
I could stop there. But that would mean a lot of paperwork, because these islands have a lot of restrictions. And it's extremely expensive there. That's why I want to go non-stop to the Marquesas in the South Pacific. But I'm also attracted by the long passage. As the crow flies, it's about 2,700 ropes to Nuku Hiva. I reckon the boat will cover around 3,000 miles through the water. Conservatively calculated, I will be at sea for 40 days. However, if the wind dies down, I won't be firing up the engine. I prefer to take my time and adapt to the conditions.
The first stage on the US west coast was much more challenging, I think. I now feel more confident and equipped for the long distance. As a solo sailor, I'm also safer on the high seas than on land. And I can handle it well. When it gets dark, I go to sleep. I don't torture myself by forcing myself to stay awake. I leave the sails up at night and sail on. Because if a dangerous situation arises, I want to be well rested.
I actually briefly thought about taking someone on board again. But I came to a different decision. At 27 feet, the boat is relatively small. But more importantly, I want to do this big and special stage alone.
Yes, Herman Melville was already anchored there before he wrote "Moby Dick". Today, many yachts are travelling this tropical route. So in this sense, I'm not a great adventurer or anything like that. On the contrary. I'm connected to the internet at sea via Starlink. I can google and get the latest weather reports. I can find out about every anchorage in advance. What a luxury! If I head for a reef at night, I can follow it live on the web and see how I need to navigate. Sure, it's a huge adventure for me. But I realise that it has nothing to do with the great voyages of the past, such as that of Joshua Slocum. As a sailor, I'm a bit of a light.
I can receive emails and use my social media channels in the middle of the ocean. But I try to limit that and not get too distracted. I want to be in the here and now, in reality on the water. After all, that's one reason why I'm doing this trip. To get out of my comfort zone on land. And to tune out the media bombardment.
That's true. Before I set off, I had just 300 followers on Instagram. Shortly before setting off, I posted this one video without any intention: Music teacher sails around the world. Bye, see you soon. That was 32 seconds, nothing more. The video went viral. After five days, I had over 100,000 followers. A month later it was 200,000, and now I have over 230,000 followers. I was overwhelmed. Some posts had around 3,000 comments. You have to keep up with that. It's unbelievable what a sailing trip can do.
Yes, absolutely. I've already been hated online. Some commented that the trip was far too dangerous. I was acting irresponsibly, I was an idiot, a weirdo. In my opinion, this is also due to the fact that I'm still very young compared to most other sailors. Especially on routes like this, you tend to see older people on the yachts. When you do something like this and you're only 25, you get an incredible amount of criticism. But most people think what I'm doing is wonderful. Thousands of people encourage me and wish me luck. On the Pacific coast in Mexico, I was invited to come and have a look. Others wanted to come along themselves. A lot has happened since that video.
I have a three-month visa for French Polynesia. I want to go to the Cook Islands and see where the winds blow me in the South Pacific. I definitely want to visit many South Pacific islands. Fiji, Tonga and the Solomon Islands, among others. Then I plan to call at Australia. Then on to Indonesia and Thailand. From there across the Indian Ocean to Mauritius and La Réunion. And then, definitely: Madagascar! I want to spend a lot of time there and sail around the entire island. I want to get to know the country and its people. I've heard so many good and exciting things about this country. Then I'm planning to head for South Africa and sail around the Cape of Good Hope with my sailing friend Angus. That would be great!
I have given myself a vague time frame of five years. But I don't want to think about the end of this journey just yet. It could be ten years. Who knows what will happen along the way? I don't want to commit myself. Maybe one day I'll work as a music teacher again in Australia, Tasmania or somewhere else. Or continue to live on board. For now, I just want to get to know other countries and broaden my horizons.
I can imagine that very well at the moment. A sailing yacht like this is a wonderful vessel. I only set sail a good six months ago, but I can already say one thing: my new life on "Songbird" is beyond my wildest dreams. And it has only just begun.