Therapy cruise: "reSAILience" association takes seriously ill people out on the water

Text by Hans Borchert

They will never forget this trip. That much is certain. Not Liz, 27, who stands at the helm for four hours in strong winds on the last day and then simply falls asleep at the table during the farewell dinner. Not Martina, 49, who actually dreads confinement and chaos and then, to her own astonishment, finds words for the unspeakable in evening discussions. Nor Rebecca, 31, who sleeps outside under the open sky for seven nights and experiences "a really great feeling of being free". And certainly not Kirana, 35, who is surprised by the intensity of the experience, who feels alive again and for whom sailing becomes "something really, really big".

So four women. There are also Philipp, 36, and Hendrik, 33, their skippers. And there is another guest on board that all six of them know only too well. Present as ever and an integral part of their lives: cancer.

• Lifestyle: Coach me if you can - life training on board

At some point in the past, each and every one of them received the devastating diagnosis. Liz as a young girl: acute lymphoblastic leukaemia at the age of twelve. Martina had long since become a mother of three children at the age of 47. "Breast cancer," she says, "detected early, diagnosed after a mammogram, then operated on. No chemo, no metastases. Luck in misfortune." In gratitude, she has worn the English word Faith as a small tattoo on her forearm ever since. And Philipp, not only the skipper but also the initiator of this trip: Hodgkin's lymphoma at 26, a physics student at the time, now on his way to becoming a specialist in internal medicine.

Cruise becomes a metaphor for life

He is now considered cured after a long, gruelling illness full of fears and lasting traumas despite his recovery. "Sailing helped me enormously on my way back to life after cancer. It became the centrepiece of my final convalescence. No longer sailing on lakes or rivers as in my youth, but on the wide open sea," he says, describing what has gripped and fascinated him so much over the years as his passion and expertise has grown - he holds the SBF, SKS and SSS.

"It's an empowering feeling to steer a boat in the wind and waves. You immediately feel the force of nature and when you conquer it, you realise how you gain or regain control. That became a metaphor for my life. In addition, the community on board creates very strong bonds of friendship. That alone gives you endless strength."

Hendrik was always there on various trips together. He was also a cancer patient and is now a trainee psychiatrist. They got to know each other and learnt to rely on each other - in strong winds and rough seas. They kept in touch, exchanged ideas, made plans and eventually developed their own idea for a sailing programme for young adults with cancer together with other friends. "Because of such positive, personal experiences," says Hendrik.

It is based on a psycho-pedagogical concept with resilience as the guiding principle and three formulated goals: Building community, experiencing self-efficacy, daring to change perspective. This is complemented by medical care for the participants in an interdisciplinary team and their sailing instruction on board. After some deliberation, the friends also find a name for their project: "reSAILience". It makes sense.

Stressful everyday life recedes into the distance

After overcoming many bureaucratic hurdles, they are ready to set off. They only founded their association in 2023 and are now setting off on their fifth voyage. The four women climb on board with an invisible rucksack of conflicting emotions. Curiosity, of course. A thirst for adventure, that too. But also uncertainty and anxious anticipation, because with the exception of Liz, none of them have any sailing experience.

After all, Kirana's doctors encourage her patient in advance. She gets a big go: "Great idea. Please do it, that's great!" And yet she is still left "spit-faced" when she actually gets the go-ahead to go on the cruise.

Rebecca is no different. She is keen to try something new, but has only ever been pedal boating. In particular, she wonders how she is supposed to do it, "being crammed into a very small space with five strangers". And Martina takes the precaution of being fatalistic. She says to herself: "I'll probably survive seven days, even if it sucks." But it won't, on the contrary: as she later realises, it will be "really cool". Because while they face up to something completely new, their everyday lives, which are more or less determined by the illness, are lost. Blood tests, immunotherapeutic infusions, radiotherapy, new chemo cycles - all of this gradually disappears in the wake as the lines are untied and the boat sets course for the horizon.

Psychology knows the term "positive disruptive break" for this. They themselves find other words for it. "My mind was somewhere completely different," marvelled Rebecca. Kirana feels transported to a parallel world, "almost like in a film". It's like that for everyone. And it's been that way since the first day they arrive in Kiel.

There lies the "Five Oceans", their ship. It is a Jeanneau Sun Odyssey 389 in charter version, built in 2016, 11.75 metres long. Provided by Torsten Reichardt, the owner of the sailing school of the same name in Wendtorf. Their destination is the Danish South Sea. In the most glorious late summer, with almost Caribbean temperatures and moderate, albeit increasing winds, they want to explore the islands.

Evening round of talks puts a cap on the day

There is still nothing that could surprise them and so steering the yacht becomes the first immersive experience for all of them. In Martina's memory, "simply mega cool". But the Baltic Sea can also be different: with a strong breeze and higher swell in the afternoon. The first ones are quickly on the ropes. And it is the youngest, Liz of all people, who is at the helm, trying to keep on course and fighting off dizziness and rising nausea. "You can't anticipate what's going on inside you," she says after docking in Marstal on Ærø, the first foreign harbour. "That was really elementary."

She said this during their evening chat. Yes, every day needs "a lid", and from now on they call theirs a "lighthouse". That's how maritime they are after getting to know each other yesterday, which was mainly about bunk allocation, packing list check, basic sailing terms, safety briefing, rules of behaviour on board and grocery shopping.

A small stumbling block, by the way: the question of food. A highly sensitive topic, especially for cancer patients. The group votes unanimously for vegetarian and oat milk, votes against chocolate by a majority and even agrees on a number of favourite dishes that hopefully everyone will enjoy. From spinach noodles to Thai curry and couscous. Et voilà: The first step towards team building has been taken.

However, a day at sea like that takes its toll. Kirana remembers: "I was really exhausted - I closed my sleeping bag and left immediately. Just like that." What you need to know is that they all come from an everyday life burdened with major existential worries. Coping with this is anything but easy, and it is not uncommon for them to remain passive through no fault of their own, as the illness overwhelms them and those around them. Taking it easy and resting becomes the norm.

Cancer as fate and opportunity

One former participant noted in her logbook: "My limits have changed and I know there's no going back to my old life. At the moment I think I'm fit for everyday life, but I can no longer go out and do everything like I used to. The lightness is simply gone and I often feel like I have weights on my arms and legs. Everything is heavier and there is no strength, no energy for other things. Everything is focussed on pure functionality. In this respect, the real adventure of sailing for me is being able to let go, to trust myself to do something and to feel myself again."

That takes time, of course, it grows very gradually. Even on the "Five Oceans", which leaves Marstal in the morning and hoists the reSAILience logo in Lyø harbour in the evening. It shows a ship on the crest of a huge, overturning wave. Martina sees the image as a synonym for "fate and opportunity".

Alternating between a magnificent sunset and a starry night, they sit in their "safe space" cockpit and summarise what was important that day. "First of all, arriving in the harbour," says Liz and freely admits: "I was really weak-kneed today." Then Rebecca: "I thought it was great how we all supported each other and how you helped me with the heavy stuff."

Then Kirana, who says that she suddenly felt energy again, "which I didn't even realise was still there". And she adds: "I didn't think I would be able to keep going for a day like this, when my body is constantly in motion."

Martina concludes: "It gave me a kick today," she says. Of course, I don't want to go through my illness again. But would I otherwise be here on the ship and experience things like this? I'm not really into the forces of nature. So I don't think so, do you?"

Cruise becomes a perfect choreography

It gets even better. The next day, on the trip from Lyø to Søby, they jump into the mirror-smooth water on the open sea and swim alongside their boat, competing with a seal and two harbour porpoises. They talk about it long into the night, realising how close they have become, how openly and freely they now communicate, how familiar their community now feels. Not just between them, the sailing novices, but also with their skippers Philipp and Hendrik. Rebecca says: "People speak a different language among cancer patients, and maybe that's why it worked so well. There is simply much more understanding for the individual needs of the other person. That was also an issue for us."

Not necessarily a gender issue, but still an interesting phenomenon in passing: women have made up more than 85 per cent of all participants in reSAILience sailing trips to date. Association member and skipper Nele, whose main profession is midwife, tries to explain this. She says: "Men often prioritise physical activity when coping with their illness. To put it simply: they want to get out, not talk. They just want to do it." With women, it is noticeable that although they pursue a similar approach, they also consider it valuable to do so in a communicative exchange. Nele continues: "They feel a great need to work through the existential crisis they have in common together."

What pops up are often difficult thoughts. Fears that none of these vulnerable people like to admit. That they would perhaps prefer to keep to themselves and then find the right words for at the right moment. "This great freedom on the sea is inspiring," says Rebecca. And Kirana adds: "I would never have thought that I have so much going on physically and mentally. Especially at the lighthouse in the evening, there was so much space to think about things, to feel things deep inside and then even to express them."

But the sea can sometimes be different. The Baltic Sea is rough and wild on the last day of sailing. In 7 Beaufort winds, they venture out of the Schleim estuary near Kappeln onto the open sea towards Wendtorf. It was a challenging ride for everyone, with gusts and metre-high waves. They hold their course in the second reef, perched in the cockpit and put their trust in Liz's unexpected steering skills.

This results in what skipper Philipp calls the "perfect choreography" of the trip. Because now, after seven days, they are what they never thought they would be: a small, close-knit, strong community that understands each other blindly.

Time for two final words. Liz, the brave helmswoman, says: "It gives you a lot when you know you're not alone." And Kirana, for whom the view of her illness has changed above all, has new hope: "The confidence that everything can get better is back. I'm very grateful for that."

The association

"reSAILience" organises sailing trips for young adults with serious illnesses. The aim is to strengthen the resilience of those affected and thus improve their satisfaction with their own life situation. The organisation welcomes donations in kind (oilskins, life jackets, etc.) as well as financial donations and supporting memberships. Contact: resailience.org