Dear readers,

Christmas is just around the corner, even for me. It has already rung several times and is still waiting. He doesn't mind, because that's nothing new. It was like that last year and the year before. Fortunately, the festival has great equanimity and is patient with me. Despite all the hustle and bustle around us.

Where is the contemplation? The serene anticipation? If this is a Podcast you would hear me sigh right now. Typical pre-Christmas season, isn't it? As the remaining days of the year get fewer and fewer, the to-do list seems to grow steadily. The countdown is on.

Oh!

My colleague Morten (Strauch) recently gave me an idea that has often crept up on me at this time of year. Here in the same place a fortnight ago he shared his secret "escape thoughts": Christmas on board!

Oh, how tempting that sounds! Anchor up, jib up and off we go! Preferably heading south, of course. Even without a podcast, you can hear it rustling now: The wind in the sails, the gentle surf on some dream beach in the South Seas and the swaying palm trees above. A Christmas tree in between.

But let's be honest: contemplation at sea? What about all those who have experienced it? More or less voluntarily? Especially in times when you didn't have a permanent connection to your home shores via Starlink. And you couldn't join your friends at the Christmas market at any time, at least virtually, if you wanted to.

For example, on the little-known Austro-Hungarian North Pole Expedition. They set off in 1872 with the schooner barque "Admiral Tegetthoff" in order - in keeping with the spirit of the times - to reap the glory of being the first to reach the northernmost point of the world. They never got anywhere near it.

Just one month after setting off, they got stuck in the ice, discovered Franz Josef Land (which is why it still bears the name of the Danube monarch to this day), but also spent two winters frozen in the ice. The ship was never freed, and the crew finally returned to civilisation after many hardships and a long trek across the ice with their dinghies.

The experience left its mark, especially the seemingly endless polar night at the end of the world. Although they were not alone, the rest of humanity seemed infinitely far away. Julius Payer, one of the two commanders of the venture, wrote about the second Christmas: "At 6 o'clock in the evening, the preparations were over, the ship's bell echoing desolately in the dark foggy air (...)".

The gifts were distributed by lot: "A bar of soap was worth more than anything else; the sight of it had become rare". But even at the banquet, "no one was really in the mood, we had been away from home for too long, only our bodies were still present, but our spirits had fled from them and were among our distant friends".

And what about the first adventurers who wanted to circumnavigate the world solo and non-stop, of their own free will? We are, of course, talking about the participants in the Golden Globe Race, which started in 1968. Before it began, experts were divided as to whether a person could even complete such a journey without losing their mind.

Just how real this danger was was demonstrated by Donald Crowhurst on his trimaran "Teignmouth Electron". Months before his tragic end in the vastness of the Sargasso Sea, his lonely Christmas on board was particularly hard on him.

In a tape recording for the BBC, he found it audibly difficult to give the impression that everything was all right after he had coaxed "Silent Night, Holy Night" from his harmonica: "Not that I'm in any way depressed or feeling sorry for myself, but there is a certain spirituality about this place and this time - Christmas - that makes me a little melancholy. (...) The feeling of separation is intensified by the loneliness here. (...) Anyway, let's play something cheerful!"

Longing speaks from every word. Contemplation sounds different.

But before things get too gloomy: The eventual winner of the race, Robin Knox-Johnston, was in a completely different mood. As a true Brit, he first heard the Queen's traditional speech over the radio on board his badly battered ketch "Suahili", made a toast and wrote that his mother had described his son's record attempt as "completely irresponsible":

"On that Christmas day, it began to dawn on me that she was right. I was sailing around the world for the simple reason that I wanted to - and I realised how much fun I was having.

Don't worry: this statement by Irving Johnson proves that even in stressful times, a relaxed mood is not just a matter for stoic Brits. In autumn 1929, he signed on to the "Peking". Although he usually worked on yachts, he wanted to sail round Cape Horn himself on a tall ship before the end of the windjammer era. One hurricane after another hit the steel four-masted barque, but the crew remained calm.

Then came Christmas: "With the up and down movements of the ship, the branches of the fir trees rose and fell as if they were being shaken by a capricious wind. Two boys played their violins, two others the accordion. (...) When the captain came in, everyone stood up and sang Christmas carols together. Gifts were given and so much food was eaten that in the end Johnson "couldn't finish another bite".

He cheerfully realised: "It was Christmas. A festival that the Germans know how to celebrate". If that's the case, we'll take him at his word!

On behalf of all my colleagues at YACHT, I wish you a peaceful, happy and relaxed festive season - wherever you may be, on land or at sea.

Christian Tiedt

Head of Travel

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