This title quote by travel
writer Paul Theroux had always seemed foreign to me, but having been on the
boat for 16 months this sentiment is now taking on greater meaning.
Whilst it might conceivably have been felt
at Christmas when I returned to the UK, in reality nearly everyone goes to some
version of ‘home’ at this time of year (even if it’s to the in-laws) so this
didn’t feel unusual.
It was only when I recently visited home
from Rio de Janiero that I felt a connection to the statement. Not simply
because I was going home, but due to the deeper emotional undertow involved.
Living on a relatively small boat with
three other people is intense. I’ve sailed with my own family enough to know
that even with people you know intimately the close-quarters environment can become
suffocating.
The Sea Wolf dynamic is interesting as the
longest I’ve known any of the crew is a little under 2 years. But I already
feel I know them better than people I’ve known most my life. I tend to think of
it in terms of dog years, i.e. one year afloat is the equivalent to seven on
land.
Work aboard Sea Wolf is rarely taxing or
difficult. But whilst I get plenty of time ‘off’, there is still a physical attachment
of elastic quality to the boat, and by extension the people on it. In 16 months
I have been back to the UK twice. Both times this has felt overdue. For me it seems
to be about the need to confirm the existence of the status quo back home, principally
authenticating relationships with family and close friends.
But it did feel a little strange being in Rio, with all the possibilities this presented, yet yearning to return home. I had just grown tired of the boat and of my place amongst those I share it with.
