THE PLEASURES AND PITFALLS OF CALLING THE SHOTS AFLOAT

I’m delighted to be starting a new blog series here on Chartroom Online.  Every Friday, I’ll be twittering on about something related to offshore sailing and my passion for being at sea.  For this first one I’m taking a look at what it means to be Skipper of a yacht, so pull up a stool, grab a pint, and let’s have a proper natter about what it really means to be a yacht skipper because, let’s be honest, there’s a certain romance to the title, isn’t there?

“Skipper”, it sounds like you’ve got it all sussed. Salt in the beard, hand on the helm. calm in the chaos. But, as any of us who’ve done a few miles up and down the coast will tell you, the reality is equal parts pleasure cruise and plate-spinning act.

So, here it is: a warts-and-all ramble about the joys and occasional headaches of skippering your own yacht.

You’re the Decider-In-Chief

First up-the responsibility. When you’re the skipper, everything flows back to you. Weather window closing in? You’re the one weighing up whether to go, bail, or re-route. Dodgy lobster pot just off Hurst Narrows? You’re on the hook if it wraps the prop. Someone burns their hand on the kettle or gets green around the gills halfway across Lyme Bay? Yep, that’s your problem too. And here’s the kicker: the better the trip goes, the more invisible your work becomes. If the forecast is nailed, tides bang on, and the crew all feel useful and confident, people assume, “Well, that was easy.” If they’re still smiling over a G&T in Cowes by 1800 no one remembers your 6am synoptic chart session or the six variations of the passage plan you sketched out. But that’s the game, you carry the weight so others can relax. And weirdly, that can be quite addictive!

The Stressy Bit: Berthing & Boat Handling

We’ve all been there. The pontoon ballet: full marina. Crosswind, your berth’s the one between the carbon-fibre catamaran and the Isla’s pristine Hallberg-Rassy with teak so clean it squeaks.  You’re nudging the throttle, watching prop walk. Checking the windage – that ruddy bow is blowing off again. Your other half’s up front with the midships line and “the look”, a stranger appears with a boathook and starts giving uninvited advice, and all you’re thinking is Don’t cock this up in front of an audience.

That’s when you realise skippering is often 90% boat handling and 10% PR management. The trick? Stay calm, communicate clearly, and if it does all go sideways -abort, reset, and try again. No shame in a re-approach, it beats smacking into a pile.

Herding Cats, But on Water: Crew Management

Sailing is a team sport. Even if your crew is just you and your partner, or a couple of mates who sailed once on a Greek flotilla five years ago, you’re still responsible for knitting them into a unit.  That means delegation, real delegation – not just barking “Fenders!” and hoping they know which side and how high. The best skippers I know don’t just issue commands – they brief, demonstrate, check understanding, and make people feel useful. Because when everyone knows their role, even if it’s just “lookout” or “tea master,” the boat runs smoother.  Yes, there will be moments when your best mate ties off the genoa sheet like it’s a shoelace, or your teenage son turns green just before you hit a tricky entrance, but when it clicks, when you sail onto a mooring buoy in one slick move or gybe cleanly with no flapping or flailing, it’s magic.

Weather: The Great Leveller

The one thing no one tells you in the glossy brochures is that weather trumps everything. Your whole plan, however finely crafted, is only as good as what the sea and sky allow. But that’s part of the pleasure too. You start to notice things others miss – The veer in the wind, the way clouds build and flatten, that subtle barometric fall over lunch that says, “Better reef soon.”  And when you do read it right, catch the tide out of Yarmouth just before it turns foul, or tuck in behind the breakwater with a squall chasing your stern, it’s a quiet thrill. Not showy, not Instagram-worthy, just the deep satisfaction of getting it right.

The Admin & Upkeep Nobody Sees

Here’s the side of skippering that never makes the holiday snaps: maintenance.

Seacocks, oil changes, replacing split anodes,  updating the bloody chart plotter firmware for the fourth time this year. You start to dream in antifoul colours.

But again, it’s part of the rhythm. The pre-season checklist, the winter haul-out, the satisfaction of spotting a worn halyard before it chafes through in a F6. But let’s be honest, there’s something very grounding about knowing your boat inside out. When you can fix a bilge pump or coax the windlass back to life, you feel like a proper seafarer. A little smug, even.

Final Thoughts from the Helm

Despite all the juggling, the skippering, the forecast-anxiety and fender-faffing…there are moments, moments that make it all worthwhile.

 

• • The genoa fills perfectly on a broad reach, and you’re hitting 7 knots with nothing but wind and tide.

• • The crew laughs over sundowners, retelling how they nearly dropped the mooring hook again.

• • You’re on anchor watch at 3am, stars reflected in the water, a flask of tea warming your hands, and a quiet sense that-here-you’re exactly where you’re meant to be.

Being a skipper isn’t about heroics or bravado. It’s about planning, learning, adapting, and occasionally winging it with a smile. It’s knowing when to push on and when to turn back. It’s teaching your kids to tie a bowline. It’s dropping the hook in a sheltered bay and feeling the day’s tension slip away with the tide. And yes, it’s about messing up from time to time. But learning. Always learning.

So, if you’re thinking of stepping up from crew to skipper-go for it. Be humble, be prepared, and pack a sense of humour.  Because if nothing else, you’ll have some cracking stories for the pub.

Now then, whose round is it?