My first impressions whilst boarding the Tres Hombres in Santa Cruz de La Palma as a first-time sailor were: how small she was (in comparison to other sailing vessels, cargo ships and gargantuan cruise ships), and how much she rocked with the waves despite being moored in port. Everybody told me this was nothing compared to the rocking at sea but at this point I didn’t quite believe them! There was also a persistent, peculiar but not unpleasant smell which I couldn’t quite place but later discovered to be tar- the lifeblood and essential lubricant of the ongoing maintenance of a healthy ship.

Boarding the Tres was a moment us newbies had been eagerly anticipating throughout the final weeks of 2025, tracking her movements on vessel-tracking websites and constantly refreshing our inboxes for any updates. Of course we were disappointed that the Atlantic crossing was delayed, but on the bright side we got to spend Christmas & New Years with our friends and families or more time in La Palma before the fun really began, whereas our now shipmates travelling from Den Helder or Douarnenez were battling extreme North Sea storms, ongoing maintenance battles and multiple failed mooring attempts. For those tracking their movements online like us- yes, they really did drift over to the South East coast of England only to sail back to the shores of the Netherlands, shelter in the port of IJmuiden almost immediately after leaving Den Helder, and have to change port location in La Palma a total of three times- no easy feat for an engineless ship. 

It was a real blessing to stay a few nights on the Tres Hombres before setting sail. It was crucial in enabling us to integrate into the ship’s way of life, our new lodgings and schedule, as well as introducing us to some basic sailing concepts. Of course we had the luxury of hopping ashore at almost any hour to head for shopping, device charging or showering, knowing full well that these luxuries would soon be virtually unobtainable.

Even this early on, on these short trips ashore, I began to long for the compact, comfy confines of my bed, whilst also experiencing my first bout of ‘land sickness’ whereby the sky, ground and objects appear to be spinning or in motion as a result of your balance and centre of gravity being thrown off by time spent at sea. One fellow trainee has the following advice for future first-timers: ‘Learn to relax for the first couple of days and settle into your new surroundings. Try not to be bogged down in information overload. There is a lot to learn but plenty of time to learn it. No amount of previous sailing experience will truly prepare you for life aboard Tres Hombres.’

Before we set sail I must also mention the excellent climbing training by the wonderful Vinny (Deckhand), who gave us harnesses, and showed us how to safely climb along both the bowsprit and up the foremast and along the course yard. 

Our pre-departure loading of rum by hoisting the 250L barrels individually into our cargo hold was also particularly impressive. It was our first operation requiring all hands on deck with the first mate relaying very clear, specific instructions to each team, to delicately raise or ease in order to safely and skilfully manoeuvre the cargo into the hold below. It was this experience and several others that made me increasingly aware of the constant trickle of Tres Hombres tourists. Some of these were casual observers but others had clearly researched our whereabouts or were fellow sailors who were all captivated by the incredible craftsmanship and spirit of this fine wooden cargo vessel. We frequently had onlookers asking questions and for permission to photograph but on one occasion I noticed there was a small gathering of people doing nothing but watching us eat lunch!

Okay, the moment you’ve all been waiting for- setting sail from La Palma and leaving Europe in the direction of the Americas, following our ancestors and making use of nature’s generous North-easterly trade winds. At this point, being a new trainee, I can’t tell you exactly what happened, but there was the hauling of lines, the easing of others, the casting away of mooring lines, the use of fenders to protect the hull, and of course the dinghy to nudge the ship in the right direction. The exciting thing was that all of us had a role. ‘You guys go there’ ‘You guys do this’, and before you knew it, we were cruising out of the harbour, and our friends from previous legs of the voyage who were helping us cast off, were already distant waving specks!

Seeing the land masses of both La Palma and El Hierro slowly disappear from sight, really made the reality of our adventure sink in. We were crossing the second biggest ocean in the world using only wind and sails, and would be without phones, wifi, showers, doctors, dentists and all the other necessities we take for granted for anywhere between two and four weeks. If we changed our minds or wanted to get off, there was now no way to do so until reaching the other side. What also became immediately obvious was that the boat did indeed rock a heck of a lot more than in port, and although I was initially complimented on my ability to read a book without feeling nauseous, this was very short-lived as around six hours into our journey and right at the start of my first watch I succumbed to the dreaded seasickness despite taking the pills, chewing the candied ginger and wearing the accu-pressure wristbands. And so it was that I made my first deposit into the Atlantic on the leeward side (always on the leeward side!). I think of all the new trainees, around half of us got it but were all fortunate enough to recover quickly, with symptoms lasting no more than 24 hours.

Having had quite challenging weather conditions in earlier legs of the voyage and requiring sufficient hands on deck for more complex sail manoeuvres of which there were many, we all benefited on this leg by switching from a 2 to a 3 watch system, resulting in more sleep, more time to socialise with other watches and more time on the deck in the sunshine (of which there has been plenty) for everyone! One such example of this was our ‘Sunday Funday’, the one day of the week with no boat maintenance and where everyone mustered (gathered) on the helm to enjoy our daily fix of homemade sourdough and guacamole as well as freshly fried (and beautifully seasoned) flying fish, none of which were caught but instead flew onto the deck. We were also treated to a beautiful selection of smart and snazzy Sunday shirts from the crew and trainees as well as sharing campfire songs on the deck. We have also kept our sanity by playing several ongoing games such as The Murder Game (no actual killing involved), ‘Guess the date of arrival into Guadeloupe’, a treasure hunt and sunrise karaoke at the helm.

However, it hasn’t been all fun and games and some of the things that have made us cry include being totally drenched by the ocean immediately after changing your shoes or socks, being constantly woken by the rolling of waves and arising of other shipmates and of course dropping your bowl of coffee beans/grated carrot/raw eggs down the galley hatch into the dry store and having to deal with the ensuing mess.

We’ve all learnt a lot in these past two weeks like how to set, douse and trim sails, sailing commands and terminology such as ‘make fast’, ‘sweat’ and ‘square the deck’, and of course 101 new and exciting ways to enjoy bananas and avocados. For sure it has been a full on crash course intro to sailing on an engineless cargo ship and to life at sea in general. But more than that it has been about learning to live in harmony with a small community of 15 who not only look out for each other but totally depend on one another. It is this experience and substantial detachment from reality by being in the middle of the Atlantic, 1000 miles from the nearest land mass that brings a fresh perspective to your home life and makes you grateful not only for the little things but the incredible ride we are on right now.

Do you enjoy reading our crew’s adventures? Imagine being there when you enjoy our products at home!