Why We're Selling Our Dream Boat Before We've Sailed Around the World
- ericaoliviasilva24
- 5 days ago
- 6 min read
When we started dreaming about sailing around the world, we did what many aspiring cruisers do: we looked for the biggest, safest and most capable boat we could afford.
After all, if your goal is crossing oceans, why wouldn't you buy an ocean-crossing boat?
On paper, our 44ft bluewater cruiser ticked every box. She was spacious, comfortable and built for serious passage making. We could easily imagine ourselves anchored in tropical lagoons, sailing between Pacific islands and eventually completing the circumnavigation we'd been talking about for years. There was just one small problem.
We had almost no experience.
Buying the Dream
Like many first-time buyers, we focused on the end goal rather than the journey to get there. We imagined ocean crossings. What we didn't imagine was spending months trying to find somewhere to keep a 44ft yacht in the UK.
The first reality check came before we'd even properly moved aboard. We started calling marinas. Some were full. Some had waiting lists stretching years into the future.
Others weren't keen on long-term stays. And suddenly we discovered something nobody had really warned us about: finding a berth for a boat over 40ft can be surprisingly difficult, and surprisingly expensive.
Before buying our boat, we had no idea how much marina costs varied around the country. After collecting quotes from dozens of locations, we put together our guide to Average Marina Fees in the UK, which shows just how much prices can differ depending on where you're based.
The Mud Berth That Changed Everything
Thankfully, Adrian's uncle Paul had been based at Morgan Marine in Brightlingsea for years. Because he already knew the team there, he was able to speak to them on our behalf and help us secure a berth. The catch? It was a mud berth.
To many boat owners, that's not particularly desirable. If you've just spent a fortune on a shiny yacht, the idea of parking it in mud twice a day isn't exactly appealing.
To us, it was affordable. It was available. And we had someone local who understood how everything worked.
While I was working, Adrian headed over to sort out the details. The plan was simple: secure somewhere temporary while we prepared the boat for departure.
Instead, he got excited and came home having purchased an annual berth for around £3,500. At the time, I couldn't imagine spending an entire year in Brightlingsea.
As it turned out, it was one of the best things that could have happened.
The Year We Never Planned
That year gave us something we desperately needed: time. Time to learn. Time to make mistakes. Time to fit out the boat properly.
During that year we:
Installed solar power
Added heating
Fitted a VHF radio
Purchased safety equipment
Learned how the boat's systems worked
Figured out what life aboard actually looked like
At the beginning, all we could think about was leaving. By the end, we realised how much there was still to learn. Looking back, this was also when we started understanding the true cost of living on a boat. The purchase price was only the beginning. Every month seemed to bring another project, upgrade or piece of safety equipment that suddenly felt essential.
One of the biggest challenges was balancing boat projects with work. We eventually settled into a routine of working remotely from a boat, which brought its own lessons around power management, internet reliability and making video calls from a floating home. One of the best upgrades we made was improving our onboard connectivity. If you're considering cruising while working, you might find our article on whether Starlink is worth it for boats useful.
Finally Leaving... Almost
After months of preparation, we eventually reached the end of our berth agreement.
The departure date was set. Everything was ready. And then Adrian's back went out.
Suddenly we were stuck for another couple of weeks waiting for the next suitable spring tides.
Because of our deep draft, we couldn't simply leave whenever we wanted. The boat dictated the schedule. Eventually, the next opportunity arrived. We tried again. The engine wouldn't start. There are moments in boat ownership where you either laugh or cry. This was one of them. With only minutes to spare before the tide window disappeared, we finally got everything running and slipped away. After all the planning, all the preparation and all the delays, we were finally cruising.
The Unexpected Discovery
The rivers. The creeks. The hidden anchorages. The places that don't appear in glossy cruising magazines. As we worked our way south towards Ramsgate, we found ourselves constantly wanting to duck into shallow corners and explore places off the beaten track. And that's when we discovered a new problem.
Our boat wasn't particularly suited to the kind of sailing we were actually enjoying.
After a while we headed back towards Suffolk to deal with life ashore. There was work to pick up, family events to attend, milestone birthdays and even a graduation. Having good transport links suddenly became just as important as having good sailing grounds. It wasn't exactly the grand departure we'd imagined. But it was real life.
The Boat Isn't Wrong
This is the important bit. The boat isn't wrong. It's an incredible bluewater cruiser.
If we were leaving tomorrow for the Azores, the Caribbean or the Pacific, we'd probably be delighted to own her. The problem is that we're not there yet.
Right now we're still learning. We're still building experience. We're still figuring out the type of cruising we enjoy most. And increasingly we've realised that access matters more than ocean capability. A deep-draft yacht is fantastic offshore.
It's less fantastic when you're staring at an interesting creek and wondering if you'll run aground halfway in. When we bought the boat, we were planning for the sailors we hoped to become. What we've slowly realised is that there's a difference between preparing for a dream and actually living it.
Why We're Looking at Southerlys
Over the last few months we've found ourselves increasingly drawn towards lifting-keel boats such as the Southerly 95, Southerly 105 and Southerly 115. The ability to reduce draft dramatically opens up huge areas of coastline that simply aren't practical in many traditional bluewater yachts.
Ironically, the boat we bought was chosen because we were thinking about sailing around the world. The boats we're now considering are being chosen because we're thinking about next weekend. We've spent an embarrassing amount of time comparing different Southerly models and weighing up the trade-offs between bluewater capability and shallow-water access.
The more cruising we do, the more we realise that the ability to explore creeks, rivers and drying harbours is something we value far more than we expected.
And perhaps that's the lesson.
The Dream Hasn't Changed
People often assume changing boats means abandoning the dream. It doesn't.
We still want to sail further. We still want to cross oceans. We still want to spend years exploring by boat. What's changed is our understanding of the journey.
When we bought our yacht, we were planning for the sailors we hoped to become.
Today we're making decisions based on the sailors we actually are. And those two people turn out to be quite different.
What We've Learned
If there's one thing we've learned from this adventure so far, it's that progress doesn't always look the way you expect. We thought we'd buy a boat and leave.
Instead, we spent a year in Brightlingsea. We thought we'd be planning ocean passages. Instead, we became obsessed with rivers and creeks. We thought we'd found the perfect boat. Instead, we're considering changing boats entirely.
And somehow, despite all of that, we're closer to our dream than we've ever been.
In many ways, this entire experience has been a lesson in buying a boat for the sailor you are today, not the sailor you hope to become in ten years' time. The timeline might not look like we expected. But we're still moving in the right direction. And for now, that's more than enough.
Related Reading
Marine Insurance for Liveaboards: What I Wish I Knew Before Buying a Boat
Why We're Considering a Southerly 95, 105 or 115
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