Your questions

The internet has not been working well for the last week, so instead of talking through these questions, I will write my answers down.

What is it like navigating the waters or the harbour with other ships around? Is there anything that you noticed about it, is it challenging or does it run fairly smoothly?

Navigating waters and harbours as a commercial ship is like the difference between flying a Cessna over wheat fields and flying an Airbus A380 long-haul to Hong Kong. They are two different worlds, with different navigation systems and strict standards to be upheld. The amount of reporting you have to do on a commercial ship is also astonishing.

When we were going down the Elbe River to Hamburg harbour, I noticed most clearly how these two worlds meet. There were many sailing boats out, and it is their responsibility to keep clear of larger ships. You could see how some sailors misjudged the wind or the speed of their boats, which caused consternation on board our ship. The problem is that big ships cannot manoeuvre quickly. It is a bit like being in a taxi and listening to a seasoned driver mutter about cyclists ignoring the traffic rules..

Since you're going to describe all of the different duties on board, if you had to choose which of these you would prefer doing yourself (in a world where you feel physically capable of doing any of them)?

Definitely not Master or Chief Officer – too much responsibility. It could not be Second Officer either, because I can’t navigate my way out of a one-way street, and they are responsible for the navigation plan. So, I would choose Third Officer. They share many of the same duties as the Second Officer but are responsible for all the safety equipment, which feels more my style.

What are some qualities of people that you find are particularly welcomed on board a ship? You had reflected a bit on this for the times you went sailing, but what about a commercial ship this size and people working together?

Since it has been years since I sailed long distances on a sailing boat, I am reaching back in my mind. Perhaps much has changed, but I would say some attributes are timeless for both crews of sailboats and those on commercial ships: the ability to follow instructions, a willingness to work hard, friendliness, and calmness in a crisis.

On a commercial vessel, you need more. Tenacity, level-headedness, and an ability to work with people from very different backgrounds and beliefs are essential. When I was sailing years ago, most others were white middle-class people like my parents, and crews were predominantly male. Hopefully, that has changed.

Finally, commercial sailors need to be able to handle the loneliness of being away from family and friends. Even though you are surrounded by people 24/7, it is still a lonely life. The ship is a beast, with little or no homely comfort, and the sea is vast.

Have you become part of their family?

Every day brings a small encounter that shows me how welcoming everyone is. I started out as “Ma’am” and have now become “Mum” to most, even though I could be their grandmother. Two months is a long time to spend in close proximity to strangers.

Yet I am a supernumerary, not a crew member, so it would be presumptuous to say I am part of the family. The most I can say is that I feel very much at home now and will undoubtedly miss each and every one of them. I wish there were a way to tell them this, but first, I could not do it without crying, and second, it would make them uncomfortable.

Have you ever had to perform a karaoke song?

No. I told them I can dance but not sing, which made everyone laugh.

When the crew are doing karaoke, I slip in at the back and sit in a corner seat. Everyone keeps singing, playing computer games, or chatting with family on their phones. Someone usually brings me peanuts and a Coke, and I sit there enjoying their songs. The disco light spins, the speakers blare, and it is all strangely comforting.

How did it feel to see land again after so many days at sea? Could you imagine how the sailors back then must have felt, setting off into the unknown and suddenly hearing the guy in the crow’s nest call out: “Land ahoy!”?

Being away from land is a beautiful feeling. It frees the mind of worries. Out here, there are only two priorities: keeping the ship on course and keeping people safe. Everything else is secondary. Everyone on board shares the same focus, which makes life both intentional and very simple.

At a meditation retreat, there is only meditation. At sea, it is the same quality of attention, though deeper and more constant. In good weather, there is a sense of discovery. Two days ago, before this storm, we saw twenty-three pilot whales, what an extraordinary gift. In bad weather, the focus sharpens even further: stay the course, keep safe. So, for me, in any weather, the answer is the same: I want to keep sailing.

When land is sighted, I feel both happy and sad at once. There is a lovely word in German, Wehmut. It means a tender sadness mixed with fondness – a kind of wistful melancholy. That is exactly how it feels to see land.

How others on this ship feel, I cannot say.

But for sailors centuries ago, it must have been ecstasy. They often did not know if they would survive the crossing or what conditions they would face when they arrived. But sighting land released them from months of strain and uncertainty.

But above all, how do you think the return to small-town life in Lübeck will unfold?

Let me give this question some more thought.