The dream of sailing across the Atlantic alone is great, but if you are 14 years old and your mom refuses, then it's time to look for options closer to home.
I have lived on a boat since I was two weeks old, and my parents spent five years refitting and repairing a 50-foot long trawler Ros Ailither. I spent my first year sailing with my parents in the Caribbean and the Western Atlantic, and on the way to Bermuda, I encountered my first storm when I was five weeks old. Our 50-foot trawler was almost completely underwater, and my mother was thrown from the floor to the deck while trying to change my diaper.
I already crossed the Atlantic when I was 16 months old, of course, I don’t remember! When I was 12, I bought my first ship, Falanda, and it was almost love at first sight. I saw moldy bilge water rising from the berth, almost to the cockpit floor. She has been out of the water for almost 10 years and is full of fresh water, so as my dad said, she needs "a bit of TLC".
Dad knew how much I wanted this boat, so after a brief inspection of the hull, I bid 800 pounds. Then, before she was put into the water, I felt like I had let go of the disgusting bilge forever, and then dragged back 90 miles to the Eke River.
16-month-old Katie crosses the Atlantic
After the evacuation, in the winter of 2019, I worked in Falanda after school and on weekends, and then was launched again two days before the first blockade in the UK. In the summer of 2020, accompanied by my father, I took his new ship Amaryllis, a 33-foot classic yawl, and started my first one-handed voyage in Flanders. In addition to looking great, the pair sailed together perfectly. Four weeks later, we reached the Isles of Scilly safely, and I was eager to continue sailing.
As far as I can remember, my dream is to cross the Atlantic alone. After spending four weeks alone at sea every day, I have a lot of time to think about my options. It seems that I will either set off immediately and hopefully, or stick to it for another four months, until the transatlantic season arrives.
Or, of course, there is Mini Transat, which I read after a friend of my parents suggested me the perfect opportunity to start a sailing/racing career; it seemed to be the ultimate challenge. However, at this point, my mother said no, so I continued to do the next best thing; sailing around Britain alone.
Helped to draw Ros Ailither, eight years old
That winter, the regulations on Exe liveaboard were tightened, so my father decided that after living on a boat full-time for the past 37 years, it was time to move ashore. If I have not been determined enough, it may be this that prompted me to really start my UK tour project, so after Ros Ailither was sold, I focused on tedious passage planning and prepared for Falanda.
In addition to general homework, master yachting theory courses, and emailing the docks, these boats need to be repainted, so my dad and I stranded them on the beach for two weeks-to save the cost of tugboats. About five days before I was about to leave, I found some leaks, which meant that Falanda had to be pulled out for last-minute repairs anyway.
The insurance problem also arises-I am insured while sailing alone, as long as there is a "responsible" adult nearby. This caused great frustration because I stubbornly wanted to visit alone, but there were 35 docks to dock, and I was worried about screwing up and crashing into a £1 million boat. Therefore, after many long conversions and arguments, everyone agreed that Dad would follow me (at a distance of 1.5 miles) around the UK... He did it!
On June 30th, we are ready to set off. I don’t remember leaving Topsham. I think I just can’t wait to leave, but I do remember seeing a lot of people line up at the pier to wave to me, and a fleet of ships escorted us down the river. I really didn't think about what would happen after we left, or I just don't have time, so leaving the channel feels like setting off to sail on any other day.
The first stop was short and the wind was not strong, to Lyme Regis, about 30 miles away, where we stayed overnight. The next morning, we bypassed the Portland Bill, which was actually one of the most notorious headlands in the entire journey. Fortunately, the weather is very good, the weather is very good, we passed the round smoothly, I am ready to meet one of the initial challenges-to enter the dock.
I have never entered a pier alone on Falanda before (only once with the crew), but despite my concerns, I found the right berth and didn't hit anyone.
Early the next morning, we headed to Yarmouth, which is a long passage around St Albans Headland. After the needle tower, I must admit that once the wind started, we sailed at a speed of seven knots. Very cool. The second day was a short trip to Cowes, on the same day as the roundabout, which meant that we entered the Solent with another 1,100 ships.
Before she traveled around the UK with one hand, Katie McCabe drove her newly restored classic yacht to the Isles of Scilly alone
The young British sailor Katie McCabe will be one of BoatLife Live’s speakers. The event will be held from the 17th to the 20th...
Very busy, but very interesting, once we moored at the East Cowes Pier (just behind our old ship Ros Ailither!) we were happy to see all the fastest ships returning. However, this is not very interesting, because a blow is coming and I am not sure whether to stay in the safe zone of Solent or move on as much as possible before it is really hit. Dad agreed not to participate in the passage plan, so I decide every night where and when we go the next day.
We continued to Brighton. It was a very windy and humid trip. When we entered the nasty channel entrance, the waves rushed down the breakwater. I'm still a novice to the entire "dock", I remember being rushed into the entrance, holding a wet almanac, and my VHF radio being cleaned around the cockpit floor.
I can hardly hear the port master read out the berth numbers we assigned, nor do I know where these two are. I was busy negotiating the narrow entrance and still had to take out the mudguard and rope.
Crossing the Thames Estuary in the rain
Dad was in the same situation, about a mile behind, so I waited for him, and then we stopped at the first available berth and pressed the pontoon to the dock office. This was one of the troughs of this trip. Back on the ship, I knew I still needed to do the charting work for the next day, email the next dock, figure out a way to get the calendar, and sort out a lot of things in the bilge.
The warm shower did a miracle. We set off early the next morning and arrived at Eastbourne in time before the strong wind. For the next two days, we avoided the weather and blasted sand on the beach to get a real travel experience! When the situation improved, we set off for Dover at 0430. Dover to Ramsgate was done in dense fog, and I must say that the White Cliffs of Dover are incredibly disappointing.
My next big challenge is to cross the Thames Estuary. Heavy rain and fog kept going along the way, so after worrying about moving sandbanks, shipping, and wind farms, our trip was quite plain. When we entered the locks of Shotley Marina, Dad was very dissatisfied with the rain and was not a particularly happy person, so we took a bath and then returned to the soaked sleeping bag.
Go to Grimsby for sunset at night
Lowestoft was a gentle downwind, and we anchored at the Royal Norfolk and Suffolk Yacht Club-the first yacht club on this trip-and then set off five hours later to start my first solo overnight stay travel. I'm not sure how I would deal with lack of sleep. After almost no sleep the night before, setting sail at 0200 may not be the best way to start it.
The first night the weather was clear but very cold, and then on a sunny day, I had the opportunity to evaluate and "think" for the first time. At sunset, we were approaching our third wind farm against the tide, with gusts of less than 7 knots, which was very boring.
Just before midnight, the wind rose and the tide reversed, but we had to reduce the speed below 2.5 knots because the tide did not rise until 0800 the next morning. Since Grimsby's lock is only opened at HW+-2, we must at least reach 0600 to get in.
Crawling slowly along this track is very frustrating, especially when you know that the boat wants to go faster. To make matters worse, not only did we approach the busy Humber entrance, but due to the lack of telephone signals and the early morning tides, I had no chance to clean up the berth before leaving.
In Lowestoft, he gave Timothy Lang a slightly hurried phone call. Timothy Lang kept the record for the youngest single-handed tour of the UK. He promised to "solve" the phone range while we were still outside that day. .
This is great, but it still means that I only know what's going on when I finally receive a call signal 8 miles from land. It was 0400 at this time, and I was busy with the shipment. The two midnight sleeps were gone, and my dad and I were starting to get lost.
No port official and no one in Grimsby accepted VHF, so we just hoped for the best and entered the Humber. Forgetting it was still 0430, poor Tim received a call from me and talked about locks, tides, yacht clubs and crab cages, and finally I found Grimsby Pier. Finally I went in, and my father basically collapsed in the cabin. After finishing the berth, I quickly followed and boarded Flanda.
Then we stayed in Grimsby for two days in terrible weather, and then left again to go to Scarborough for the night, during which time my autopilot broke down. Reaching 0800 is a strange feeling, but not as strange as waking up at 0100 the next night, completely rested and eager to leave. This happened a lot during our trip around the UK. It’s really strange to sit down, or in the cockpit, waiting in the middle of the night to set off again.
The next hop was Scarborough to the Royal Wharf in North Shields (where they provided a real bathroom for the rowers!), and then a short hop to Amber the next day. Then proceed to the first stop of Eymouth in Scotland, and set off early the next day to cross the Firth of Forth.
The entire harbour seemed to be asleep, and when I lowered the ropes, we drove into the darkness, through the narrow breakwater entrance, past the jagged rocks on both sides of the channel. As the sails rise, we seem to be gliding, and the light on Dad’s mast is the only thing we have. Unfortunately, the wind stopped at sunrise and we had to drive on the remaining road, with many minke whales and seabirds joining.
Moored in the port of ymouth
Two whales skimmed directly from the bottom of the boat and surfaced less than 10m away. It was super cool, but slightly scary. When the gate was about to close, we drove into the port of Abros: they will be closed for six hours until the next high tide. Heading to Stonehaven the next day, our boat looked very small on the huge city wall.
We arrived at Peterhead the next night. Despite the number of people of about 2,300, we were welcomed by friendly rowers on the pontoon and offered hot chocolate by the family on a large motorboat.
After leaving six hours, a motor cruiser followed us away from the breakwater. It came to the side to deliver sausages and fruit to Dad. After a big voyage, we arrived at Whitehills, where the friendly port master took pictures of each incoming vessel, and then disembarked to greet us on the pontoon.
After leaving the Caledonian Canal, Flanda approaches Oban
That night, after bumping into them in the last six or so ports and having no chance to say hello, we met our family on the motorboat correctly. It turned out that they were also traveling around the UK and had electricity. After a long conversation, they offered to cook for us that night.
The next day, our downwind sail broke, and then there was a terrible entrance into Lossmouth. We ran around, trying to pass between the narrow breakwaters. Then we headed west to Inverness in the fog, and then my mom, brother and dad took the Amaryllis to the Caledonian Canal.
The canal is amazing, we have more than two days to cruise, although it often rains, it is still very lovely! At Loch Ness, the sun finally shone out of the clouds and the wind was less, so I had the first opportunity to drive my new spinnaker (daddy's old spinnaker!).
It's funny, until the wind blows, and then it makes a circle on the nose, which means I left a lot of oversized material flying around. As a result, I didn’t know how to put down the spinnaker correctly, so when the rain started pouring heavily again, I just put down everything and hope everything goes well.
The Guinness World Records team confirmed that Katie’s "shortcut" would not be accepted as a "tour around the UK", but it was followed by the voyage of Dame Ellen MacArthur in 1995 when she was 18 years old. , Known as the youngest man to sail alone in England at 21 feet in Corribe, Iduna. Mom Hazel said that Katie "can't make time for school" and hopes to avoid the worst weather for safety reasons when she is only 14 years old.
After passing the canal, my mother and brother jumped on the boat to Oban, and we met Murdoch McGregor, who was also on the way to England, but in the opposite direction. We heard that at the age of 82, he was the eldest person to do this. It was a pleasure to talk to him about our travels so far and talk about our love of boating.
That night, I was about to make a crucial decision; about two days later, a big blow was forecast, and the weather didn't look any better for the next week. This means that we will either stay in Auburn safely and risk being stuck there for a few weeks, or move on as far as possible and hope that the forecast will not change.
After much deliberation, I decided to go to Port Ellen on Islay, about 65 miles southwest of Oban. We have a great sail, a reasonable expansion, and a lot of wind, so I can finally let Falanda sail normally. The next morning, according to various weather applications, we have 35 hours to fight the blow. I think during this time, we can be in Wales.
Meet Murdoch McGregor in Auburn;
We set off, a distance of 175 miles and about 33 hours to complete, which means we need to maintain a ground speed of at least 5.5 knots. We plan to bypass Mar in Kintyre and Mar in Galloway, both of which are dangerous and have serious tidal headlands, only one of which we can be with the tide.
I chose Mar of Kintyre, so we sailed smoothly, and then the wind rose, northwest winds, and tides were not good for us. Going against the wind always brings bumps, and in one of Scotland's largest headlands, this is definitely what we get. As we approached Galloway Moor, we had 3 meters (about 10 feet) of waves pushing us forward, which is strange because the wind cannot be stronger than level 5.
However, we still used a complete main jib and a slightly folded jib to over canvass, sailing against the tide at 8-9 knots. I knew I had to go to the reef, and after accidentally taunting while surfing along the waves, I turned Falanda into the wind. Due to limited conditions, I have been manually operating for about seven hours, and I haven't managed to put on the waterproof device or put in the washboard before we turned.
The waves were still beating, and within 30 seconds, the entire ship was submerged, soaking inside and out. I haven't gotten Flandre's reef system yet. The current system can only put one reef. Therefore, I spent 20 minutes fighting with the main, trying to hook the leech on the horn, and then tie the leech rope to the boom. Once I was sure that everything was safe (and completely drenched!), we turned south again and moved on, completely closed.
At sunset, the wind and waves began to weaken and we left Logan Harbor (along halfway along Galloway Headland), where we stayed for most of the night, and there was hardly any movement due to the high tide. At some point in the evening, the wind stopped completely, so I shook off the reef and we slowly moved on.
The wind rose again shortly afterwards, and we were surfing in the waves of 3-4m again, which was even more terrifying in the dark. When the yoke holding the main nail broke, it banged and whipped the main whip violently. Retrieving the tack is a bit scary, but there is nothing I can do at sea. I can only continue to use it and slam the sail.
The sea on the way to Conway
Shipping was very busy at night, but at sunrise, we finally bypassed Galloway Moore and approached the Isle of Man. The wind was slowly declining. Staying on the Isle of Man is not an option because (a) Covid restrictions, (b) we don't want to be trapped on the island due to bad weather, and (c) I want to carry it anyway!
We arrived in Conway when it was dark 32.5 hours after leaving Port Allen, just in time for the safe haven, and entered the pier when the tide was still high enough. Although it was frustrating to be stopped, our stay in Conway was not too bad, because everyone in Conway was very friendly and generous. All kinds of people took time to visit and put down food packages (including homemade cakes!), I had to go out on a 58-foot sailboat and look around Mini 6.50, the boat racing in Mini Transat!
A week later, a 48-hour weather window appeared, so we set off across the Menai Strait to Fishgarde. Heading against the wind, it was a terrible, choppy journey, and even when we entered the strait, it did not seem to calm down. The section of Swellies is only about 1/4 mile long, but it is lined with dangerous underwater rocks. It is as scary as I thought.
Sea foam leading to Port Ellen
Because of my cunning tidal calculations and strong headwinds that slowed us down, we missed the slack water and were sucked in at a speed of over 12 knots. Even though the boat was tossed frantically, we managed to pass safely along the correct route, but my father was tired and wet at this time, so he let us sail into the port of Dinowwick.
It felt like the end of the world to me at the time, because there was at least a week of weather without another gap. However, once we passed the lock and moored correctly, we checked the forecast and decided that if we leave at the next tide, we can still do it that night (just!).
Therefore, 4 hours after arriving at Dinorwic Port, we locked the door again, leaving the doorkeeper completely confused why anyone wanted to leave at 2200 on such a terrible night. However, the wind has eased a bit and we passed the rest of the strait smoothly. When the sun rose, I tried to open the tiller to check the head and found that it was dead, which meant another 14 hours of manual maneuvering all the way through Cardigan Bay to Fishgard.
Katie McCabe boarded Falanda, about to sail from Loch Oich back to the Caledonian Canal. Photo: Jeremy Tucker
The next morning, a friend drove us to an electronics store in Milford Harbor, where they found the steering gear was filled with salt water. I have not used it since the Caledonian Canal, so I think it must be all the spray from the Menai Strait. It is installed in the cockpit for easy access. The next day, the store replaced one for us. We spent the rest of the bad weather in Fishgard and performed some urgently needed engine repairs.
Four days later, we set off for Milford Harbor. When the wind came up, it was a light sail to Ramsey Bay, and we had a long Atlantic wave pushing us through the rest of the road. When we locked the pier, my dad and I were already very tired, so setting off to cross the Bristol Channel the next day was not something my dad was particularly looking forward to.
However, I just extended the itinerary by another 90 miles, and I can’t wait to set off. The wind speed given by the forecast never exceeds 20 knots, which sounds perfect.
We got the predicted wind speed of 20 knots, but it was also accompanied by an expansion of 2.5-3m, which made the ride wet and a little uncomfortable-but exciting! We crossed the Bristol Channel on a beam, and there was enough wind to keep seven knots in the water along the way.
In 1800, a group of dolphins joined me and Falanda. They stayed by our side for nearly 10 hours. Due to the incredible phosphorescence, they turned into glowing torpedoes when it was dark. It was an amazing performance. Despite the swelling, it felt like Falanda was flying, cutting it when the waves hit her.
At about 0400, the dolphins had already left, but I still enjoyed watching the phosphorescence on the deck. We sailed very well, and Flanda took the helm by himself. I used VHF to call my dad. I forgot that it is so early now that we are all soaked and frozen. I suggest to continue to the Azores. Dad didn’t feel as positive as I was, so he said directly: "No, dear."
The conversation is over, we continue to move towards the end of the land, where the tide is still surging violently towards us. At dawn, land began to appear, and waves began to appear. I must admit that it made me feel a little seasick for about an hour. Soon, we were heading towards Newlin and the passage was about to end, so we played around the bay quickly while the wind was still around.
The next day I went to Polruan, where I first bought Falanda; then in Plymouth, we were just in time for the annual fireworks competition! Then Plymouth went to Torquay and raced alongside each other in grey rowing boats. The next day was our last stop back to Topsham, which made me sad, but not so sad for my dad. After seven and a half weeks on Amaryllis, I think I have managed to single-handedly stop him from sailing, or "small" boat sailing anyway.
We got to the fairway very early, so we wasted some time when we went out. We are heading towards France at a speed of seven knots to reach our destination, and the last thing I want to do is to return to the muddy Eke River. I think our last conversation about VHF was basically when I begged Dad to continue to France. I don't want the trip to end, but he is ready to end at this point.
We quickly sailed along the seashore, immersed in the excitement of this moment, accompanied by a fleet of about 20 ships. Being beckoned by a large group of people at Exmouth Pier was an incredible sight, although it was a bit overwhelming after being alone for so long. On the river, the entire Topsham seemed to be waving to us, lined up on the pier at dawn, and then waited for me to greet me outside the local shipyard in the downpour.
Topsham's return welcome
The Mayor of Exeter was there, my mother was there, and there were 1 million reporters. It's a bit surreal, everyone congratulated me there, but in my opinion, I didn't do anything special. Circumnavigation is essentially a large number of individual day trips (and some overnight people), so it did not, and it still does not, feels like a major expedition.
The hardest part was walking up the pontoon and leaving Falanda that night. All I wanted to do at the time was to turn around and return to the river. Suddenly, I got home, stopped, and separated from the boat I had spent a long time repairing and living on.
The trip is over, I am really sad; after experiencing such a wonderful experience, it is difficult for me to return to my daily life, where I either have complete freedom or complete responsibility, depending on how you look at it it. Going home felt like hitting a brick wall, so to make it easier to bear, we took the boat to Exmouth for a few days.
Cruiser race after circumnavigation
I can go sailing every day. Although I don't want to go back to Amaryllis, my father is very happy to spend it with my mother and brother. Instead of having a cup of tea and chatting with my mother in the kitchen, I took her to sail across the strait, (returning, we couldn’t stop due to Covid restrictions), we had tea while crossing the waterway! We had 29 hours to go to sea, (under the rather "challenging" conditions my mother said!) and then I went on several night voyages in the local area.
At the same time, I gained more recognition on the "Falanda Sailing" blog on Facebook. I was just shortlisted for the YJA Award for my writing, as well as another award for the trip itself. I was surprised to be nominated, and even more surprised that I won two awards that night. I am in awe of being one of all these top sailors; the award itself was awarded by Shirley Robertson and Stuart Bithell, the two most accomplished sailors in the boating world.
Another amazing experience was sailing on a Mini 6.50 in Conway for a day, which is absolutely incredible. I have never taken a boat like this before, and after sitting on my 5-ton Falanda for so long, it took me a while to get used to it. I managed to drill about eight times in one day, but other than that I really enjoyed the experience and learned a lot.
Won the YJA Young Marine Journalist Award from Stuart Bithell and Shirley Robertson
During my travels around the UK, I saw a lot of Minis and talked to many people on similar ships. The conversation with Tim Long convinced me that this is actually possible, and when I drove back to the Conway fairway, my heart was firmly committed to The Mini Transat 2023.
I know this will be difficult in terms of time, because the first qualifying match will be held in April 2022, which means finding a sponsor and getting a boat before winter arrives. The first step is to double check that there is no age limit. I quickly received a reply from the organizer confirming that there is no age limit.
I had two days at the Southampton Yacht Show in 2021, and I started talking with the company and sharing my thoughts. This is also the place where I gave my first speech. It was completely horrible. I didn't have too many "plans". I blurted out within half an hour!
Speaking at the Southampton Yacht Show
On the following weekend, mom suggested a triple check with the organizer in case they meant the upper age limit. I have read the rules of the competition, which stipulate that participants under the age of 18 require parental consent. To me, this sounds like it is possible to participate.
Anyway, I emailed again, and when they replied that the minimum age was 18 years old, I completely broke down. Hearing this really feels like the end of the world. I can't face the idea of spending another two years in school, plus university, without real goals.
At the same time, Dad and I participated in a traditional game in Brixham. I am very happy to go out to race and see other classic wooden boats again. I decided that although my 2023 Mini Transat dream is over, I can still aim for the 2025 race. Despite Covid, it is still possible to bring Falanda to the French boat festival.
I am now working on Mini Fastnet 2023, which is still a big game, and then I hope to finally participate in Mini Transat 2025. This still means finding sponsorship-and a boat-before next summer-sailing and training before I can start in earnest. The game has started!
This feature will appear in the practical shipowner in the January 2022 edition. For more articles of this type, including DIY, money-saving advice, great boat projects, expert tips and ways to improve boat performance, please subscribe to the best-selling boating magazine in the UK.
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