Into the black

As I prepared myself for my first meeting with the North Sea, I thought about the legend among sailors. There is, it is said, a monster living beneath the North Sea, and it is forcefully breathing in and out. Each breath lasts six hours. The deep breath in is the low tide; the deep breath out is the high tide. Sometimes the monster has a hiccup, and this is called a spring tide. Rungholt was a Danish harbour city in medieval times that in 1634 became the Atlantis of the North Sea. It was totally sucked away and now sits at the sea’s bottom thanks to these powerful and unforgiving tides.

With a four-day passage ahead, from Heligoland in Germany to Dunkirk, France, I dreaded coming face to face with the North Sea monster. However, our bright orange, 43ft steel yacht Seefalke was built by Dutch designers specifically for these conditions. She’s spent 43 years of her 45-year life sailing the North Sea.

Maik, the skipper, is a calm, matter-of-fact German with more than 20 years’ experience sailing challenging waters. I am the over-emotional American girl from Sweet Home Alabama who has been sailing for only six years. Seefalke and the North Sea are old friends – they get along just fine, but how was I going to cope with the 317-mile voyage with Maik and our two dogs?

Weather window

We found our weather window last autumn – rare easterly winds that lasted for 82 straight hours – but even with these favourable conditions a voyage across the North Sea is never easy.

We planned to sail a short first leg from the island of Heligoland to Den Helder in The Netherlands. It would require sailing through the night and deep into the next day. For me, this was double-anxiety; my first night watch combined with my