The First Crossing
By Alex Sutherland, crew We began our journey in Palau, a UNESCO World Heritage site that feels less like a countryand more like a living postcard. It’s a place where WWII history sleeps beneath turquoise water,where coral walls drop int…
By Alex Sutherland, crew
We began our journey in Palau, a UNESCO World Heritage site that feels less like a country
and more like a living postcard. It’s a place where WWII history sleeps beneath turquoise water,
where coral walls drop into the deep, and where the ocean is so warm it barely feels real. For
many, Palau alone would have been the adventure. For us, it was only the prologue.
The first days aboard Neptun were spent learning the ship not from a manual, but with our
hands and bodies. We learned the rhythm of life at sea, the choreography of sails, and quite
literally the ropes. Climbing the rigging to unfurl and furl sails quickly sorted out who was
comfortable with heights and who was negotiating with their fear. Harnessed in, heart pounding,
you’re reminded that this isn’t cosplay sailing. Safety isn’t optional here, it’s survival.
When the captain finally called the morning meeting and told us we were setting sail, the mood
shifted instantly. Strong winds. A storm ahead. Tail winds we’d ride straight into. Excitement cut
through the nerves. Many had waited months, even years, for this moment. We raised anchor,
and just like that, the calm blues of Palau gave way to the Western Pacific’s teeth.
Three meter swells greeted us as we cleared the atoll. All hands to stations. Watches blurred
into walls of water breaking over deck, bodies swinging on harness lines, and the unmistakable
sound of people being violently seasick, including seasoned crew. One quietly admitted he’d
never seen swell like this on a vessel this size. Comforting, in its honesty.
Days passed. The storm strengthened. Our course shifted south to avoid the worst of Typhoon
Ada. Night watches were spent staring at black horizons, hoping the next wall of cloud would
miss us, knowing it wouldn’t. What carried us through wasn’t grit alone, but each other, and the
promise of what waited ahead, the Philippines, warm dives, solid ground, cold drinks.
Our planned seven days became nine. And somewhere in that stretch, something changed.
When the weather finally softened and the sea relaxed, we felt it collectively, a quiet triumph.
Under clear skies, making speed again, we realized we’d crossed an invisible line. Many of us
had never sailed before. Yet in nine days, we’d lived in more ocean than some do in a lifetime.
And this was only the beginning.
Could your first ocean crossing look like this?
Alex sailed nine days around Typhoon Ada with no prior experience. Most first crossings are calmer, but the entry point is the same. Trainee crew on the world voyage start from zero.
