Dear readers,

My long-cherished dream has come true: To cross the Atlantic on a sailing boat. But not only that, because I was able to make the trip of a lifetime together with my brother. The two of us travelled on an old Hanseat 70 from Miami via the Azores to Cuxhaven.

My first blue water trip and then around 5300 nautical miles at 34.4 feet. We had nine weeks, seven of which we spent on the water. An infinite amount of time in the microcosm of the small boat on the endless expanses of the North Atlantic.

Now I'm back at my desk and the Atlantic is rapidly receding into the distance. What will remain of the dream when you're back in the hamster wheel of everyday life? I hope a lot! One thing is particularly close to my heart: more serenity in the face of heated debates and the countless dramas of this world. How did I come up with that? I had my first aha moment on my second night at sea, which I want to keep for as long as possible.

Change of watch at 03:00 in the morning in the Sargasso Sea: I come out of my bunk completely drenched in sweat and enjoy the breeze on deck. Directly above the boat, the Milky Way is in full splendour. It looks as if the masthead is drawing a sparkling swirl through the sky. And the boat also leaves a magical sparkling trail through the water: sea lights! More about the trip in the new episode of our podcast!

But it gets even more fantastic, because in the distance over Florida, at Cape Canaveral, you can make out a firework display of lightning and weather lights. A spectacle without sound, as if someone had pressed the mute button. The intervals are so short that it reminds me of a naval battle from a film. Knowing that missiles have been hitting Tehran and Tel Aviv for days now and that the USA is also on the verge of going to war, I suddenly have a queasy feeling. Is the world now going completely off the rails while we take a break on the Atlantic?

Then, out of nowhere, the rough wind shifts, causing the sails to back and our boat briefly goes out of control - accompanied by the loud beeping of the autopilot. The bullstander catches the worst of it and the minor mishap is quickly rectified. The Hanseat is back on course. Perhaps this was a small warning shot, because politics and war have no place on board a leisure yacht. As cynical or indifferent as it may sound, there is nothing we can do about it if there is shooting somewhere. No one is helped by being up to date on all the trouble spots. Switch off interference channels and switch off yourself. That's exactly why we all go sailing.

I delete the messaging apps on my smartphone during this watch. And so this touch of worry disappears so quickly that it has no chance of materialising. On land, I always found this calmness much more difficult, all too often I found myself pondering the issues and problems of our time. The tool that is always available for this is, of course, the smartphone. Checking what happened where and why every hour. Not forgetting the social media channels: Has someone written to me or is there a comment that should be commented on? And if not, why not?

Over the next few days and weeks at sea, I became increasingly aware of this madness. Particularly after the inverter burnt out, making it impossible to use Starlink and therefore also the internet. Previously, we had switched on Starlink once a day to check the weather. But it didn't stop there, we quickly spent an hour or two writing status messages and posting pictures.

After a very short time, this annoyance proved to be a blessing and enabled us to immerse ourselves deeply in the here and now of the ocean. In my opinion, a great experience like an Atlantic crossing doesn't need the distraction of media of any kind. When do you ever have so much time to enjoy peace and nature?

Morten Strauch

YACHT editor

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