This is (vi) in a series on the voyage that could only have been my first. Part i is here
While in part grateful to be able to step on land, I was buzzing, elated. We’d made it. We’d lost three sails, taken twice as long than expected, eaten tinned soup and beans for the last week, had two stanchions snap, and lost the heart and mind of one crew member; but we’d made it, without anyone falling over board, without hitting a tanker, without starving.
On the other hand, I’d learnt to steer through a storm, master the Sat Nav, read charts, plot positions, change sails, repair sails, cook without puking, chop veg without losing a finger, function on three hours sleep, translate clouds, recognise albatross, do very little for hours at a time, operate around other people in a confined space.
In short, I'd found I could rely on myself as an individual and as part of a team in a way I'd never experienced before. I had used body, brain and spirit to travel approximately 1600 miles, and all three had held together, proved trustworthy, connected and capable.
I was hooked.