Unfiltered.
The rawest moments at sea have fast-tracked the deepest friendships of my life.
Inspired by a comment one of you left on a recent post, I’ve been thinking about friendship.
Offshore sailing is many things - beautiful, brutal, exhausting, unforgettable. But above all, it’s unfiltered. No buffers, no distractions, no hiding places. Just you, the sea, and the people you sail with. It’s in that rawness that something rare happens: connection, in its most honest and human form.
This piece is about that connection. About how the hardest conditions can forge the deepest bonds. And why, even in the most remote corners of the planet, I’ve felt more seen than almost anywhere else.
My experiences at sea, as is often the case with hard things, make for confusing memories.
On one hand, I shudder on thinking back to the stress I’ve felt onboard various offshore races. The ominous fury of the Southern Ocean, the freezing punishment of the North Pacific, the blistering suffocating heat of a windless weak in the Tropics.
But on the other hand, my days at sea have been the most precious of my life. I treasure the memories. So far away from ‘easy’, and yet so FULL. So colourful. So joyful. So fulfilling. It makes me quite tearful to think - how lucky I am to have experienced life so vividly.
So, going to sea - is a journey of contrasts. As William Blake said:
“The greater the sorrow, the greater the joy.”
It is as if, in experiencing the suffering, we increase our capacity to enjoy life’s wondrous gifts.
One of the gifts I find myself indulging in at sea, is connection. Love you could say.
Connection to the natural world. And a deep connection, with other humans. The latter always feeling a little ironic. At sea, we often find ourselves in the most remote parts of the planet. So far away from civilisation, and yet, so connected with humanity.
Someone asked me recently, “Would you do it again?”
Would I sail around the world again?
I said no initially. I think my brain went into protection mode. How could I endure it again?
But, as the day went on and I thought about it more -
At same time, I was receiving messages from friends who were enduring their own sailing ‘nightmare’ of sorts - screaming downwind Southbound along the West Coast of Vancouver Island in 40 knots.
And I found myself feeling jealous. Jealous?! I must be mad. That is chaotic, terrifying, stressful - no sleep for sure.
What is this jealousy about? Is it the sailing? Sure, it’s probably fun. But, no.
The envy I felt was for the camaraderie that I knew the crews must be enjoying.
Because, offshore sailing fast-tracks friendships. And then I had a terrifying realisation … oh dear. Maybe I would do it again! In a different way, but yes. Of course.
A friendship of mine that has blossomed over the years, is with my friend and fellow skipper - Alex. We met in 2017 when my team and I were preparing our Clipper. Just 23 at the time, I desperately needed a weekend off before I set sail around the world.
In came Alex. He took the reins, and tackled my absurdly long jobs list with the crew. I went back to my parents house, alone, and said an emotional goodbye to my childhood home. A farewell to comfort. A ceremonial transition away from my adolescence. I was about to step up into a role of responsibility like never before.
I doubt Alex realised what that act meant to me. But I’ve remained so very grateful, all these years later.
A few years ago, Alex and I found ourselves - quintessential seamen that we are, sat on the transom after a week's sailing, whiskey bottle in hand, reflecting on the intensity of our own friendship.
We recalled the absurd experiences we have shared:
Flying a spinnaker 100 miles off the US west coast in 40 knots.
Weeping with joy when we finally turned downwind after a ruthless three days beating to windward.
Our friendship, like every friendship I've made during an ocean crossing, has a type of closeness that is hard to explain to a non-sailor - or to recreate on shore.
While the western world suffers an epidemic of loneliness, us sailors venture out into the most isolated places on this planet and experience a deeper sense of community than most people ever find on land.
There's a strange irony to that.
I've been asking myself: why? Why have some of the most meaningful relationships of my life been built at sea?
The magic of offshore sailing is that it strips us bare.
It exposes us, It forces us to show sides of ourselves that we normally choose to hide away.
Any friendship made at sea is undoubtedly based on true acceptance: of one another's authentic selves, the good bits and the bad.
There is a knowingness about my sailor friendships that is different to even my closest land-based relationships. A mutual, unsaid understanding:
You know each other’s truth.
The challenge of offshore sailing is what fast-tracks friendships.
The physical and mental fatigue, combined with an element of fear and danger, means there is no spare energy left for being the best version of yourself.
People get to know exactly who you are.
In the same way, desperate circumstances on land can form unbreakable bonds. The difference is that at sea, intensity is an inevitable part of daily life. It’s constant.
Your raw and natural self is the only version of you that anyone ever sees.
On land, we can hide away.
At sea, there is no privacy.
No locks on the doors, or curtains to draw on the outside world. The usual spaces you might seek out if you want a cry, or to find a moment of quiet alone, do not exist.
There are no distractions, and no quick fixes - no scrolling online, no retail therapy, no impulsive takeaway dinners, no glass of wine at the end of a tough day to dull our emotions.
There is no escape from the present.
And so, we learn the power of feeling our feelings.
To have vulnerability and weakness is to be human.
Accepting that is what builds stronger, deeper relationships with others and with ourselves. The sea forces us to realise that.
One of my favourite aspects of life at sea is that there are no disguises.
The labels we wear on land are completely meaningless.
Money and wealth will do nothing for you in the face of nature.
Where you come from, what school you went to, the colour of your skin, your gender, your accent, your sexuality - they all mean nothing.
So, without that, what does that leave? You and your crew unfiltered. Raw.
Now, I don’t think anyone, myself included, would want to live 24/7 in the discomfort of the Southern Ocean just to build deeper relationships,.
But, I do think that we could take some inspiration from ocean sailing. We can search for camaraderie in a more stripped back way.
I’ve often wondered how we might bring some of that honesty and connection from sea to shore.
What would happen if we dropped the filters more often—shared more of our truth, showed up a little messier, and let people in?
I’d love to hear from you.
Have you found spaces or relationships on land that offer this kind of depth?
What helps you get there. Maybe ritual? Taking risks? Shared struggle?
Please reply or leave a comment! I always read what you send, and your reflections often shape what I write next.
Trust. Offshore sailing—and really, any kind of sailing—is an exercise in mutual reliance. We place our lives in each other’s hands, and in doing so, we embrace a shared responsibility to face whatever nature throws our way. That level of trust doesn’t come lightly—it’s earned through presence, competence, and the quiet comfort we feel with one another.
When that sense of ease sets in, whether we notice it or not, walls start to fall. Conversations become unfiltered, authentic. And that’s where the deepest connections begin—born not just from proximity or purpose, but from vulnerability and mutual respect.
Warms my heart to read this because it’s so true. Dare I say it’s can also be true for spouses. Since our first serious passage(Mex-FP), my husband and I are soooo much closer. It has deepened our bond in ways I cannot describe. It’s simply awesome because we live this adventure as a family, with our 4 kids.
That being said, I firmly believe most adults don’t live enough adventures or purposeful challenges. Adventures will strip you bare and we should seek that rawness, that moment you have to be in without filters and afterthoughts.
To answer your question, if I were to pick the safest way to deeper friendships, I’d say adventure, hence risk taking.
Thanks for this article!