Ocean Nomads

Another delivery, another horizon.

I’m currently making my way towards Zanzibar on another delivery, watching the dawn of a new day at sea...

To my friends old and new: if you’re in or around Zanzibar, or if you know good people, good anchorages, useful contacts, or somewhere with a cold drink waiting on arrival, drop me a comment or send me a message.

It would be good to connect with ocean nomads along the way.

Fair winds,
Andrew

Charted Seas, Uncharted Moments:
What Fifty Cape Roundings Have Taught Me

A few months ago, somebody asked me how many times I'd rounded the Cape of Good Hope.

I honestly wasn't sure and then after a bit of thought, I realised that answer was fifty. I completed my 50th last month...

Fifty passages around one of the most respected stretches of coastline in the sailing world.

The funny thing is that people hear a number like that and imagine fifty epic storms.

The reality is quite different.

What I've learned over the years is that the sea is rarely the only challenge. The Wild Coast has earned its reputation for good reason.

The Agulhas Current pushes south at remarkable speed. Strong south-westerly systems can create dangerous sea states when they oppose the current. There are long stretches of exposed coastline with few places to run for shelter. Add one of the busiest commercial shipping routes in the Southern Hemisphere and you quickly learn that complacency has no place on watch.

Perhaps that's why I've always had such respect for this coastline. Many of my Atlantic and Indian Ocean crossings have begun or ended here. A delivery from Cape Town to Richards Bay might sound like the destination, but more often than not it was simply the first chapter of a much longer story. The Wild Coast has a way of reminding you very early whether your yacht, your crew and your plans are truly ready for what lies ahead.

Many yachts have come to grief along this coastline.

Groundings, dismastings and abandonments are not stories from centuries ago. They still happen. Every skipper who regularly sails these waters knows the names of yachts that underestimated the conditions, suffered equipment failures or simply ran out of options when weather and current combined against them.

And yet, in my experience, the greatest challenges offshore are often not the ones people expect.

I've had passages where the weather was manageable, the yacht was well prepared and the route was straightforward, only to discover that the real challenge was unfolding onboard.

I've sailed with crew members who became so seasick that they were effectively unavailable for days at a time. Deliveries planned for a full crew suddenly became something much closer to a solo passage.

I've dealt with fatigue, fear, panic and personalities that changed completely once land disappeared over the horizon.

On one delivery, a highly capable and experienced crew member suffered a serious mental health episode at sea. Until then, I had never truly appreciated how vulnerable all of us can become when removed from our normal environment, routines and support networks.

At sea there is no stepping away from the situation.

There is no calling somebody else to take over.

There is no pause button.

As skipper, the responsibility remains yours.

That experience taught me something important.

When people talk about offshore sailing, they often focus on qualifications, equipment and weather.

Those things matter.

But so do people.

The strongest crew member on day one is not always the strongest crew member on day ten.

The most technically competent sailor is not always the person who copes best with isolation, exhaustion and the psychological demands of life offshore.

After fifty Cape roundings, I've come to believe that good seamanship is about far more than handling a yacht.

It's about understanding people.

Managing risk.

Remaining calm when things become uncertain.

And recognising that every passage is ultimately a human story.

The Cape has taught me many lessons over the years.

And most of them had very little to do with boats!

If you enjoyed reading this, please like it and comment, as I have a few more stories to share if you're interested?

Fair winds,

Andrew Plasket

Professional Yacht Delivery Skipper | Atlantic Crossings | Indian Ocean Passages | Wild Coast Specialist

If you're planning a yacht delivery, ocean passage or repositioning voyage and would like to discuss the route, vessel or crew requirements, feel free to send me a message. I'm always happy to share advice, even if the timing isn't quite right for a booking.

From a Long-Haired Dreamer to 50 Deliveries on the Wild Coast

It’s been an interesting few days on a couple of fronts.

Firstly — I’ve learned that a good sea story is still of interest. Thank you for all the feedback and comments on my last post. It seems to have struck a chord, lots of you enjoyed it which is really encouraging, so I'll move forward with the next one 😉.

Although, on the flip side, and rather amusingly, a few people are now convinced I’m a bot and that the whole thing was thought up by AI to generate followers. After some 40+ years at sea, who'd have guessed that I'd write like a machine!

Anyway — back to events this week. I'm currently in East London on my 50th delivery between Richards Bay and Cape Town.

I can remember, as if it was yesterday, my first delivery down this coast. Long hair, ponytail, and already dreaming of becoming an international delivery skipper and that somewhere along the line I’d end up skippering a Wharram Catamaran through the Polynesian islands.

That one’s still on the list, by the way, so if anybody has a Wharram Catamaran and fancies heading in that direction, please count me in. I know, all too well, that some plans just take longer than others, and to never give up hope.

I’m sharing a couple of photos with this post — one of me as a young 'ne, long haired and full of ambition… and another, as I am now, older, less hair, and very proud father, with one of my sons.

Somewhere between those two images sits 42 years of ocean time. Fast forward to now and here I am, delivering a Ron Holland 48 down to Langebaan.

There are three of us on board, including the owner and his son; we slipped out of Richards Bay Thursday afternoon and made East London 48 hours later. The boat settled in nicely, running between 9 and 12 knots, with about 4 knots of current giving us a helpful nudge down the coast. So far, everything feels good and It's reminded me why I love sailing this coast.

Looking back, I’m fairly certain growing up sailing the South African coastline — especially the Wild Coast — is what ignited my love of the ocean and gave me such a solid foundation. It’s not a forgiving stretch of water, but it teaches you properly. You either learn, or you get taught.

That’s where the competence comes from. And the confidence to take on bigger ocean crossings,

Fifty deliveries on this route. Still just clocking up the miles. And still heading in the right direction.

If any of you are interested in joining me on a mileage building trip, or booking me for a delivery, please WhatsApp my very helpful assistant - a real person nonetheless - Elaine 07967 823674

Charted seas, Uncharted moments: PIRATES IN THE INDIAN OCEAN.
Some dangers offshore are part of the job; Weather. Breakdowns. Fatigue. Bad watchkeeping. Human error.
You expect those. You prepare for them.

But some threats arrive differently — quietly, persistently, and with intent. We were delivering a 67ft Supercat catamaran from port Alfred Bay, South Africa, to Thailand. It was a serious Indian Ocean crossing. Big miles. Long stretches. Lean crew. No room for mistakes.
There were only two of us on board: Myself and my first mate Conrad Bennett. a lean crew changes everything.

On a fully crewed vessel, pressure is shared. There are more eyes on the horizon, more hands available, and more flexibility when something shifts. On a two-person delivery, there is no spare capacity. Fatigue hits harder. Watchkeeping becomes relentless. Every decision carries more weight, because nobody else is waiting in the wings.

By the time we were well into the Indian Ocean passage on the route toward Sri Lanka we were deep into the offshore rhythm — sail changes, engine checks, weather, routing, rest, repeat.

Just the boat, the sea, and the miles slipping by beneath the hulls.
Then, just after midnight, something changed. A contact appeared on the radar. At first, that was all it was — a vessel somewhere in the dark. But the longer I watched it, the less I liked what I was seeing!
Its movement didn’t make sense. Its track didn’t feel incidental.
It wasn’t crossing. It wasn’t passing. It was following.

That is a feeling anyone with enough sea time knows well — when instinct gets there before logic does. You don’t have proof yet.
You just feel the atmosphere change. The sea is still dark.
The boat is still moving. Nothing has happened.

But your mind is already calculating.

Distance.
Bearing.
Relative speed.
Visibility.
Options.
Intent.

And then the realisation lands: You are no longer just making a passage. You may be managing a threat.

At 030 hrs, the vessel increased speed and moved ahead of us.

At first light, I could see them on the horizon — and on the radar — making a beeline for us.

We were under sail, averaging around 6 knots with a large Code Zero up heading directly toward them. I started the engines as the gap began to close.

This is the part people never see in the glossy version of offshore life. No soundtrack. No cinematic build-up. No heroic speeches.

Just a hard, fast mental shift from seamanship to survival.

As they closed to within roughly 200 metres, I made the move.

I fell off the wind and pushed the boat hard — sail and engine together. The Supercat responded immediately. Our speed climbed to 15 knots.

They dropped in behind us, but they could only make around 9 knots. And that was the difference.

The boat lifted and ran. The gap started to open.
For about five minutes, they stayed with us in pursuit.

Then, slowly, they backed off. That was the encounter.

No boarding. No confrontation. No dramatic ending. But make no mistake — it was serious.

With only two people aboard, there was no room for hesitation, confusion, or theatrics. We both had to be fully switched on.

We changed our posture. We changed how we presented ourselves. We made sure we did not look uncertain, unaware, or easy prey.

Because moments like that often come down to one question:
Does this vessel look vulnerable

At sea, that question can become dangerous very quickly.

So the objective was never panic. It was never aggression.
It was never bravado. It was to make the wrong people doubt their read of us. To look alert. To look controlled. To look like a problem.

That matters.

Especially when there are only two of you aboard, deep into an Indian Ocean crossing, a long way from help. Those are the moments that define offshore command.

Not when everything is going smoothly. Not when the plan is working. But when the pattern breaks, the risk sharpens, and you have to make the right call quickly, calmly, and without noise.

That day, the real test wasn’t just boat handling. It was reading intent early. It was staying psychologically steady.
It was acting decisively before the situation could fully form.

Fortunately, we stayed ahead of it. We outsmarted the approach and got clear.

But it stayed with me. Because the greatest threat offshore is not always the sea and about 3 days later, a boat was found drifting out in the ocean with no crew aboard and all equipment removed.

Sometimes it is being watched by someone to decide whether you are weak. That passage reinforced something I have always believed.

Good seamanship is not just about sails, engines and navigation.
It is awareness. It is threat recognition. It is decision-making under pressure. It is the ability to project when the stakes suddenly change.

That delivery — to Thailand, crossing the Indian Ocean on a Supercat67 — was a reminder that the real offshore story begins where the tidy passage plan ends.

Because what happens between departure and safe arrival is often the part nobody talks about.

If you enjoyed reading this, please like it and comment, as I have a few more stories to share if you're interested?

Charted Seas, Uncharted Moments

In theory, the route is simple: you look at the chart plotter and plan A to B. But at sea, it’s never that straight forward! .

"Charted Seas, Uncharted Moments” will share real experiences from my life - Andrew Plasket - as a professional delivery skipper.

It will be the stories that no passage plan can prepare you for. Each story will be my recollection on what happened, what I learned, and the quiet weight of command when there’s nobody else to hand the problem to.

There’s the version of yachting you see on social media – sunsets, champagne, and perfectly pressed polo shirts.

Then there’s the version I’ve lived. The one where:
You realise the strange lights that shadowed you all night south of Sri Lanka are now pirates in a fast boat making a bee line for you at dawn. And they're not coming for coffee!

When a casual stop in Mexico turns into weeks of “negotiation” with people you never want to meet twice.

The crew member, far from land, who decided he’s invincible and headed for the rail because he was sure he could fly!!

I’m considering writing a series of ' unvarnished delivery stories' – what really happens when things go sideways offshore, and how you get a yacht, and your crew safely to their final destination when there’s no “pause” button and no backup.

I’d start with the pirate story.

Before I hit “publish”, I want to know: Would you actually read this kind of long-form story?

Drop a comment below to tell me and I will get started...

WHAT A MISSION!!

Another successful delivery and 7000 nm added to Andrew's log book after delivering a from Fort Lauderdale to Seattle, USA.

Days of thick fog, extreme cold, avoiding violent weather systems on the west coast of USA, this delivery required true grit & determination.

After calling into Acapulco, the crew pressed north, stopping in San Diego and San Francisco before arriving in Seattle. The route threw everything at them — canal delays, headwinds, and long stretches with just two people onboard — but seamanship, commitment and teamwork saw them through.

Special thanks to:
- Kurt — who joined for part of the passage and brought great energy, spiritual connection, grace & wisdom
- Aiden Pogue — Andrew’s right-hand for the long haul, whose professionalism and positive attitude never wavered despite the extra challenges.

If you need a reliable, experienced yacht skipper for an ocean crossing, please send a WhatsApp to Elaine +44 ()7967 823674.

A WEEKEND IN ACAPULCO, MX! 🇲🇽

On Friday, Andrew and the crew sailed into Acapulco, Mexico, marking another milestone on their journey north. After a quick dash ashore -to stock up and refuel - all the while soaking up the colour, history, and vibrancy of this extraordinary city, at first light tomorrow, it will be time to press on towards their final destination in Seattle.

A huge thank you to Kurt, who joined us for the Panama–Acapulco leg and is now heading back to his consultancy role in USA. Your presence added both wisdom, grace and great energy to the boat.

Now it’s down to Andrew and his right-hand man, Aiden Pogue, to take the Leopard 47 up the coast towards San Diego. With the wind on the nose and just two of them on board, every mile will demand hard work and teamwork — but that’s what ocean sailing is all about.

Originally, Andrew had planned to go via Costa Rica towards Hawaii before turning for Seattle. But when Kurt wished to join for this passage, the route was adapted — proving once again that life (and the sea) rarely goes exactly to plan.

A very special shout-out to Aiden, who committed to sailing all the way from Panama to Seattle and despite the admin challenges transiting the Panama Canal, which added on another week, he’s been unwaveringly positive, professional, and focused — the kind of crew every skipper wishes for.

Next stop: San Diego (for a quick pause to fuel up along the way), before the final push to Seattle.
Thanks for following our journey — and if you know any one stateside who needs a professional yacht delivery skipper to do an ocean crossing, please share this page or send us a WhatsApp on +44 (0)7967 823674