Thirty years ago this spring I had my first novel published, Casting Off – apprentice-work, a bit chick-lit at times, but at least it was nautical. Inspired by watching couples bickering on marinas after stressful weekends, I had my heroine simply untie the boat and storm off out to sea, leaving her poor husband to decide whether to report a stolen boat or a missing person. Or both.

The publisher, reading a couple of chapters, said, ‘Ah, a BOH book!’ and explained that this was a fashionable genre, the ‘boring-old-husband’ novel. I was shocked, since in the end my couple happily got back together.

My reason for the plot was quite different. It was bred of fascination with the fact that over 20 years cruising, before marinas were everywhere, I was constantly surprised by the cuddliness of rafting up on harbour walls.

You found yourself sandwiched between massively incongruous companions, with only the thinnest of GRP or plank between you. You might find your modest little Contessa 26 tied up to someone immensely richer on their way to the Med, or to a battered old hippie reeking of cannabis, or a smart 36-footer with a surly shaven-headed young crew led by a highly educated, weary-looking silver fox of late middle years – that is to say, an Army training yacht.

But whoever it is, you all pass shorelines, step politely over one another’s foredeck and exchange information (often rather too optimistic) about how early the inside boat plans to sail next day. The curious democracy of the alongside world, with not even a pontoon between your ‘households’, is as if you had accidentally tied up your modest suburban semi to Chatsworth, Sandhurst or a rock star’s mansion.

Two yachts raft up for lunch. Photo: c/o Flexisail

So it seemed to me in my beginner-novelist’s optimism that my decorous runaway wife (a tea-shop owner) might credibly be roped alongside a wicked press baron preying on a naive blonde runaway and an upper-class twit employee. And that when one boat left, a bout of temper might result in someone ending up on the wrong boat.

And so I rambled on with my plot, causing the publisher to sigh and say, ‘Oh, it’s not a BOH, it’s a Comic Novel.’ As I say, it is not my proudest and I am grateful they took the trouble to print it – the later ones were a bit better.

But I refer to it now because The April 2025 issue of Yachting Monthly points out the wonderful way that you can find friends afloat.

Not just old schoolfriends, neighbours or colleagues lured down for a weekend. Any of these may either end up as lifelong crew or else be so appalled that they never come again. They stay friends, with luck, and you can all joke about it for years. More relevant is the way that you actually find friends through sailing or because of it.

Clubs of course are great, but it need not be so formal a comradeship. Several skippers and fellow crew from my singleton days of Yachting Monthly small-ad crewing stayed in touch, even coming to our wedding. In the pre-Facebook days it was easy to lose touch, but when they do pop up again it’s great. My transatlantic forepeak-companion of 1989 turned up 40-odd years later as my local Lib Dem councillor.

Article continues below…

When it comes to yachts, does beauty really matter? – Libby Purves

A seagoing boat is not a toy. It is the most serious of vehicles, built to let humans brave an…

‘Sailing your own boat is the last available way to feel that old-fashioned traveller buzz’ – Libby Purves

During a chilly autumn week we had to do a 36-hour round trip to Calais – we were foot passengers…

Sometimes it’s more constant and consistent: one couple tied alongside in Torquay became lifelong friends from the moment they hopped up cheerfully to take our lines, apologising for the fact that their entire guardrail was covered in small children’s underwear.

But even if you don’t stay in touch, friendly encounters mean that years later in Fort William, Camaret or Clew Bay you remember and are delighted. And reminisce about how your small children and theirs got together for a few hours on the strand (‘Mum! David made me put my finger in a limpet! Can we play again tomorrow?’).

Or when, in the sluicing rain you pooled your supper ingredients at short notice and rashly ended up finishing the random liquors at the back of the locker before rowing erratically back across the anchorage in the dark.

Maybe it was a week when westerly gales meant you all became a River Shannon Escape Committee, exchanging hopeful forecasts in the pub as the storms rolled in. Or the night of chaos when someone got it wrong in a Breton ‘sunflower’ mooring at 0200 and you examined one another’s bent stanchions over coffee next morning.

Anything can be the beginning of another floating friendship – let us never be strangers.

Enjoyed reading this?

A subscription to Yachting Monthly magazine costs around 40% less than the cover price, so you can save money compared to buying single issues.

Print and digital editions are available through Magazines Direct – where you can also find the latest deals.

YM is packed with information to help you get the most from your time on the water.

• • • Take your seamanship to the next level with tips, advice and skills from our experts
    • Impartial in-depth reviews of the latest yachts and equipment
    • Cruising guides to help you reach those dream destinations

Follow us on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram.