Sleep...

It seems one of the most common questions I am asked by people, whether fellow yachtsmen or land dwellers is; how do I sleep? When I sail, I keep going 24/7 without stopping on land or at sea. The most important consideration is that of keeping watch. To accidentally collide with another vessel, or a floating object is one of the worst things that can happen at sea so it's important to remain vigilant, however it's impossible to keep an eye without cessation. My method is simple and leaves a little to chance but this cannot be avoided. In a situation where there is a large volume of vessels at sea, I keep a watch on my AIS (A gizmo that flags up vessels in a given radius. It will tell me the location of the other vessel, the distance, speed and direction of travel. It also works out the closest possible point that we could meet, given our trajectories) At night, a light from another vessel can be seen from over 10 miles away, when visibility is good. This is another useful warning tool. When I was leaving southwest England there was quite a lot of traffic, mainly ships. In this circumstance I would literally slump in the seat at the chart table or slump to leeward on the saloon settee and with iPhone alarm set for 20 or 30 minutes, held in my hand, I doze off. Many times I am awakened after 30 mins from proper sleep. I go up on deck, take a look for lights, consult the AIS and then doze again. After a night or two of this I feel quite tired but it's surprising how affective it is. The body does what it needs to do. At open sea, with a lot less traffic, I lie in the bunk for 1 or 2 hour intervals. 3 or 4 nightly sessions are more than adequate in this case. My boat has what's known as a wind vane self steering unit. It's a very clever invention that when set up and linked to the tiller will steer the boat unaided in the direction of travel that is required. The only downside is that when the wind changes direction, the windvane steering will follow. Generally this is not an issue. Things happen slowly at sea and if there was a severe change, I would sense it from down below. I do experience a strange mental phenomena when my mind is telling me that there is someone else at the tiller, therefore they can keep watch. Realising this is not the case can be equally as disconcerting! If I get tired enough I will hear voices but this doesn't bother me at all. The nights here are long, more than 12 hours, and they go quickly. Perhaps the biggest aggravation is when the wind becomes flakey, weak and changeable. The point of whether to put the motor on or not arrives. I find myself akin to nursing a sickly child which, in the middle of the night, can be quite frustrating. Just when you want to sleep you find yourself trimming and twiddling, trying to catch the failing wind. To have the motor on whilst sleeping has to be some small form of torture. My 2 cylinder Yanmar is 35 years old and sounds like a tractor. And it's chugging away literally a meter from my ear, it's the price that's paid when the wind goes. I actually love the idea just to stop when the wind stops but inevitably the boat is thrown from one side to the other, the boom will crash, everything that moves makes a scraping, tapping, rolling sound. It's a maddening experience and to be underway with the diesel is preferable. It's obvious to me that to be laid down cosy in your bunk on a moving boat that swishes and gurgles through the water is not dissimilar to the experience of being in the womb. In the same vein, to be sitting in a state of high alert and low level anxiety in a boat that is crashing and pounding to windward can feel like a mildly terrifying rollercoaster ride. Everyday something different on the ocean wave 🌊.