“Write a letter to yourself, a letter which will be posted to you six weeks from now. Let your future know how you are feeling, help them understand the experience, and provide insight into this moment as it is now because you’ll never have this moment again.”
Approaching the end of the adventure of a lifetime onboard the Spirit of New Zealand, I was encouraged to take time to reflect and write this letter. Paper and pen in hand, I squeezed into my favourite spot on deck, tucked into the side of the ship with my bare feet hanging over the side. We were sailing slowly toward Great Barrier Island in the Hauraki Gulf, the late afternoon sun beaming down on the ocean, glistening in my eyes like a million diamonds dancing on the water. The sound of the waves lapping against the hull relaxed my mind as I began to write.
It’s fair to say I was nervous before boarding Spirit. Many times before, I had thrown myself into new social environments, however, this was a different level of new. I would be living and working in very close proximity with these forty 16-18-year-olds for the next two weeks on board a ship that could only resemble the pirate ships I’d seen in Peter Pan, or Pirates of the Caribbean. It took me a moment before I left the comfort and safety of my good friend in the harbour, who kindly waited with me, to join my crewmates loading their luggage onto the boat.
I was about to spend two weeks learning to sail, navigate, and maintain the ship in a tech-free environment while exploring the natural beauty of Tīkapa Moana and its stunning islands in the north of New Zealand. Despite growing up near the coast, I was never formally introduced to the way of life found upon the water, the technical terms of sailing, and the ‘knack’ that you can only truly discover from word of mouth. I felt thrilled as the crew outlined what our days would look like on that first day, from jumping straight into the sea every morning at 6 am to regular maintenance tasks and sailing practice. Slightly intimidated, but thrilled.
That first six o’clock rise hit me like a truck. The movement of the boat at night was something I wasn’t yet accustomed to, in addition to the ‘cosy’ living arrangements. We were in hammocks that pull out from the wall, stacked in threes with only a foot’s space between my head and the back of those above me. The dormitories were a hubbub as we were loudly awoken, people rolling off their beds, togs thrown about, and rushes to the toilet. We were given five minutes to be up on deck, ready to go, jogging laps around the boat as we waited for everyone to arrive. Within moments, I was leaping off the side of the ship, submerging myself in the fresh, autumnal water as my senses awakened and soul invigorated.
This routine continued with each passing day, a routine that I became increasingly grateful for. It’s easy to take for granted the effect that those first few moments of the day have on your being. Those dazed, dreamy moments where we bring ourselves back from the dream state into reality. So often, we habituate ourselves to waking up to the blue light of our devices, calming our morning stress with mindless scrolling through notifications and media. I derived internal peace from pushing myself into an uncomfortable environment first thing in the morning, the cool embrace of the sea. The water alone had an incredibly grounding effect; however, on a few very fortunate mornings, we were graced by our sun’s presence in the most magnificent arrays of colour. It was as if she were greeting us with warm stretches of light, acknowledging our presence in those early hours, and thanking us for taking the time to greet her too. I couldn’t describe a better way to start my days than this ritual I found at sea.
Living in such close quarters with people can go one of two ways. On one hand, you’re instantly exposed to all of their living habits, and sharing a couple of toilets and mirrors with twenty-five or so girls below deck is no joke. Trust me. On the other hand, the proximity can form close bonds, and the moments to be found in between lost hairbrushes and squeezy spaces are worth far more than I could have ever imagined. When you immerse yourself in a new group of people, I found it’s possible to reinvent yourself, not as a new person entirely, but to highlight aspects of yourself that others mightn’t have noticed. Living in a small town my entire life, I found that people will often have a preconceived idea of you before meeting, a pre-wrapped and labelled box that they will try to push you into, without a second thought. It was refreshing for me to have the opportunity to be seen for who I am, rather than merely what people have heard on the grapevine.
As it happens, I grew into the role of yoga and meditation guru for our happy crew. There were many evenings spent lying on the deck as I led various stretching flows and meditation sessions under the sun’s comforting glow as it slowly sank toward the horizon. I’d had experience with yoga before, but I relished the opportunity to share something I loved with my new friends. It was a surprising activity that brought us closer together. Bonds grew tighter as these wonderful moments occurred, from midnight shifts on patrol in the cabin to working together on complicated knots at the top of the mast. Our shared love for adventure and the depth of our experiences allowed us to connect on a new level on board the ship.
My voyage experience would not have been the same without music and the sense of community it holds. I was fortunate to have some very talented musicians on board, boys my own age who harmonised with such ease that you would have thought they’d sung together their entire lives. All hours of the day, if I wandered into the cabin below deck, they were singing and strumming the guitars, their continuous gentle melodies warming my heart. Music brought us all together, especially on a calm evening ashore on Great Barrier Island. We had just anchored the ship in the bay for the night and rafted to shore for a barbecue. As the sun set in all her glory, we grilled sausages and served brownies and marshmallows, huddled together around the warm glow of our campfire. It didn’t take long for the guitars to appear. People sang many different tunes; however, it was when we all joined in unison to sing ‘Can’t Help Falling in Love’ that I knew I would remember that moment forever. To this day, I treasure this memory; it glows eternally bright in my heart like that fire beneath Aotearoa’s night sky. That evening was a tribute to music, its power to bring people together in a way words cannot.
My voyage was filled with moments like these, moments that have been imprinted in my mind because of the strong emotions they evoked in me. Freedom is a powerful feeling that can only truly be found when seated at the bow of a boat sailing full speed into open ocean. There was a soaring eagle in my soul as the wind swept through my hair, water sprayed across my body, and a pod of dolphins leapt through the whitewater beneath my feet. Adrenaline coursed through my veins when I swung off the side of the boat at sunset, attempting backflips and tricks that I’d never done before. The joy wasn’t found in the success of a trick, but in the beauty of attempting new things, knowing that it’s better to have tried and failed than to have never tried at all.
The thrill of it all was contrasted by moments of calm, where I found serenity in the in-between. Never before have I felt so present, completely immersed in my own life. What came before or what was to come after became irrelevant, fading into the background. Whether it was due to the sunset yoga sessions, lying atop lifeboats in the lazy afternoon sun, or my bare feet grounding me to the earth, I was grateful for the inner peace I found onboard Spirit; it was a true blessing.
Six weeks later, I received my letter in the post. By no means had I forgotten the experience; I’m sure it will remain firm in my memory as long as I live. My letter gave me a window into who I was at that time; those feelings were encapsulated within the ink on the page, feelings that I will always prioritise in my life and search for in everything I do. It may be cliché, but it’s true when they say that personal growth only happens outside of your comfort zone. By diving headfirst into new environments, communities, and experiences, I continue to unlock new aspects of who I am as a person. I am blessed to have built so many authentic connections exploring the beauty of my backyard, Aotearoa. We are all beautiful amalgamations of the people we meet in our lives, leaving pieces of our hearts scattered around the world in the people and places we love. That’s what life is all about.
