The level of despair was growing fast. How could it be that the very first time I take back the wheel, I have to face this kind of challenge too?
Up to that point everything had gone so smoothly that I genuinely believed I could build my whole captain career on careful, safe steps. One quiet trip at a time.
Instead, right in front of us, a surging knot of clouds as dark as the water itself. So large I could barely see anything beyond it: a blue-black wall, below and above, horizon to horizon.
This is exactly the situation even experienced sailors dread. You can imagine how it felt, standing at the helm with my whole family in my beginner's hands.
But I was the captain. So I acted like one.
Since I hadn't set the sails yet, I kept them well covered. Safety jackets went on, quickly and properly, no discussion. I brought the engine down to low and positioned everyone either in the pozzetto (the cockpit) or in the cabin, as close to the center of the boat as possible.
Then a voice in my head, quiet but clear: "we don't have to do this."
And just like that, I remembered the first rule of being a beginner on the water: keep it simple, keep it safe. The harbour was still just a few waves behind us.
So I made the easiest and certainly the wisest call. I turned the route around by 180 degrees and headed back to where we came from, wearing the coolest expression I could manage in front of my beloved crew.
I thought I had it solved.
Until we reached our waterway and I saw something so unexpected that I almost said out loud: "Damn it..."
Next week I will tell you what I saw in that waterway, and why "Damn it" was probably the most appropriate thing I could have said in that moment.
That will also close the story of my return to the water. Three issues, one trip, more lessons than I expected from a single morning out.
From Issue 3 onward, we get into the practical side of things. The stuff nobody explains clearly when you are starting out. Costs, rules, licences, gear, mistakes to avoid. The things I am figuring out so you don't have to the hard way.
If you are somewhere at the beginning of this journey, that's exactly where this newsletter is going.
See you next week.
— Ale
When a storm appears in front of you and the harbour is still behind you, turning back is not giving up. It is the correct seamanship decision. Every experienced sailor will tell you the same thing: the sea will be there tomorrow. Your job on the water is not to be brave. It is to bring everyone home.
If you boat on Swiss waters, the national forecast is not enough. MeteoSwiss publishes lake-specific bulletins with wind speed, wave height, and storm warnings updated every few hours. The app is free, it covers all Swiss lakes individually, and it would have told me exactly what I sailed into that morning before I left the harbour. Bookmark it before your next trip.
Good question, and one I am clearly still learning to answer myself. The rough rule: wind above 20 knots on an inland lake means conditions are deteriorating fast, especially in the afternoon. Waves over half a metre in a small boat feel very different from what they look like from shore. When in doubt, check the lake-specific bulletin, watch what other boats are doing, and remember that turning back is always an option. The harbour does not move.
