Last year, I wrote about being part of the crew that brought Tres Hombres to Copenhagen for the third year running. In every edition I was in a different capacity. Trainee, deckhand, bosun. It may be clear to everyone that I aspire to add more roles to that list. I can see myself arriving in Copenhagen as mate and eventually as captain.

That leaves one spot: the one of cook. I would almost accept that postion just to complete the list but I have to admit; it’s not where my passion lies. That pumpkin risotto I cooked on a Monday that was well received notwithstanding. I’m the bosun still and loving it. Mad respect to the cooks that have provided me with some of the most wicked meals I had in my life. Giulia, Owen, Jeroen, Anneleen, Guillaume – and then there’s been those heroes like Aaron and Arthur. You’re the best!!

As I’m writing this piece we haven’t quite made it to the key next to Rosforth & Rosforth yet, though. We’re anchored just outside Copenhagen waiting for the right conditions to make it to our mooring. Another not-the-first-time. Actually, at the end of our last leg we spent a night hooked to the seabed awaiting Poseidon’s blessing. I’m in the galley, the setting sun shedding her last rays through the door opening onto my face – I sit content, tired after another long leg and happy to have this moment before the carnage of city life, offloading and meeting old friends comes our way.

It’s always a great treat, that last-day anchorage. Just to be with all those kind people you shared some epic weeks at sea with, get a little goofy… Love it. I write about this particular moment which at this point I feel like sharing with you more than the fact that we saw both the solar AND lunar eclipse, blasted over the North Sea with our glorious stu’nsails up, plowed through the Golden Globe fleet surrounded by bottlenose dolphins… Anchoring before arriving: I’ll gladly do many more of those.