There is always a sense of uncertainty when you live full time aboard a boat.

First and foremost, there’s the wind and the weather. We can never plan far ahead because we rely on favourable conditions. Perhaps even more so than other liveaboards, because we have a child on board. We deliberately choose comfortable courses, and thankfully, most of the time, that works out. But it means living from forecast to forecast.

Then there’s the matter of supplies. I’ve become something of a collector since we moved aboard. A collector of food. I’m always scanning for supermarkets with a decent selection. Fresh food tops the list. We eat a lot of fruit, and nearly every day, fresh vegetables. Fresh bread isn’t always available, so we keep a little stash of the long-life kind. Cans of this and that, UHT milk, a freezer packed with meals. It’s not essential, but I’ve noticed how my relationship with uncertainty has shifted. Gathering and preparing gives me a sense of control.

But our greatest source of uncertainty is technical issues. We just lost a week due to engine problems. And yesterday, we heard a strange new sound. At that moment, you have no idea what it will mean. Most of the time, Edwin figures these things out. Usually fairly quickly too. But not always. This time, the noise seems to come from inside the engine. He’s not equipped for that, nor trained for it. It feels like a line he’s reluctant to cross.

So now what? We’ll need to find a mechanic. But we’re moored in quite a remote spot. Do we sail to the nearest big town? How fast can we find someone? Do we have enough power? For the keen-eyed reader who’s been following along, yes, our generator isn’t working either. If the sun stays bright and we keep our consumption low, we might just scrape by. But our solar setup isn’t quite enough yet. The engine was our backup for this. And now?

On top of it all, I’m flying to the Netherlands with Phi in two weeks. There’s still work to be done. And we’re trying, really trying, to enjoy this journey rather than be swept away by all this uncertainty.

So how do you deal with it? How do you stay relaxed in situations like this?

Here’s what we’ve learnt over the past nine months: trust. That’s the key word for me. Trust that a solution will appear, even if we can’t see it yet. Life as a sailor makes you more flexible. You move with the wind, both literally and figuratively. You become inventive. We brainstorm options, talk through scenarios. We’re a strong team, and we can handle a lot together.

But more importantly, we both feel this is our path. This journey isn’t just a physical one. It’s deeply personal too. We’re growing, evolving, and constantly reflecting on how this life is changing our perspective. We sense we’re moving towards something. We don’t know exactly what, but it feels right.

So yes, everything is uncertain. And yet, somehow, it’s not. It all feels certain in its own way. Like this is exactly what’s needed.

Of course, we feel frustrated too, especially in moments like yesterday. But we try to keep looking around us. At what is here. And honestly, that’s not hard to do when you’re surrounded by a breathtaking horizon. One that feels endless. And ahead of us too, full of promise.

And that’s what we trust in. Together.

Written by:: Mirjam