There is something alluring about being out at sea on a boat, bearing it all, and feeling the sun and wind caress your skin. If truth be told, sometimes, if Dan is tucked behind the helm and the conditions are perfect, I have been known to sneak off to a quiet place on deck and absorb the sun’s rays for an all-over tan. I always keep my suit and a towel at arm’s reach, ready to dive back under cover should anything, or anyone, arrive unexpectedly.
Having grown up in America, our experiences being outside naked were very limited. There might have been a midnight skinny dip, a thrilling experience as a rebellious teen. I did take a naked plunge into the surf off a beach on a warm moonlit night as a young adult. I lost a bet. I was terrified as I kept looking over my shoulder for Jaws to appear at any second. In general, I always felt uncomfortable being naked outdoors.
Venturing worldwide was quite a culture shock when it came to others’ views on the appropriate dress code for sailing. Nudity in general is widely adopted in some countries. Since we didn’t do our homework on which countries that included, we were abruptly thrust into a few situations where the naked truth was revealed – much to our surprise.
After contemplating our most titillating stories of sailing naked, I whittled down a landing strip to the five most embarrassing situations involving nudity and our sailing adventures.
Top Five Embarrassing Moments
5. Spain or Bust!
We couldn’t have picked a worse time to sell our house and sail around the world. We were in Ireland when Covid struck and shut the sailing world down. We were trapped in a marina for almost two years before things started opening up to cruisers. And no, there was no nude sailing in Ireland. It was cold even in the summertime. However, there was a die-hard group of Irish folk who believed in swimming every single day, 365 days a year, despite the weather. There are clubs all over Ireland where you can show up for a dip with the club members, like the Brompton Belles and Beaus, who religiously adhere to their morning ritual.
We were house-sitting at the height of Covid at a beautiful mansion in Bantry, on the southeastern shore. We left our boat in the marina and stayed in the estate for 2 months, taking care of the cat and dog who lived there as their owners were stranded in Australia. We did break the quarantine rule for one evening and dined with a wonderful Irish couple who rented a small cottage on the estate. They were lovely and interesting people. They believed in the ritual of swimming daily and proclaimed the health benefits. Every morning at sunrise despite the temperature, they went down to the shore of the bay, stripped naked, and took a plunge. They swore it boosted their immune system, kicked up their metabolism, and was the cure for any and all ills.
I couldn’t so much as dip my naked big toe in the Irish Sea, never mind my entire body. When the opportunity finally arose for us to continue our sailing journey, I eagerly set my sights on the warm waters off the coast of Spain. It seemed like forever since we felt the warm sun on our skin and the silky sand under our feet.
Our sailing friends recommended a wonderful little harbor along our route south, Enseada DaBarra. They had sailed through during Covid and said it was a gorgeous secluded beach. They were the only ones there as they were rogue sailors who continued traveling despite the shutdowns. You would think the name “Da Barra” would have given us a clue, but totally clueless, we arrived at sunset, threw our anchor overboard, and enjoyed a spectacular sunset amidst a small fleet of other cruisers.
We woke with the sunrise and gleefully rose from our cockpit into the warm sunshine like two butterflies awakening into the world after the seclusion of a cocoon. We were so excited to spend the day on the white sandy beach bathed in the glow of the sun. We sat in the cockpit sipping our tea, planning our day, a picnic, some beach bocci, and a hike along the tree-line hills of the bay.
Following our leisurely morning, we packed up our waterproof backpacks. As long as we didn’t have too far to go, we often took our paddle board to shore making it easy to pull up onto the beach without the hassle of securing our heavy dingy.
We were about halfway when Dan commented, “Hmm, it looks like that person isn’t wearing a swimsuit.”
“It’s probably just a tan suit. We’re too far away to tell.”
About 100 yards further, a kayak paddled by us. There was no doubt this time. The man was undeniably naked. Before long, a totally naked woman across our bow wearing nothing but a huge smile. At this point were close enough to the beach to see that none of the beachgoers were wearing suits.
This left us in quite a conundrum. We were starved for a day in the sand and sunshine. We were so close to shore now. We figured there had to be an innocuous way to blend in. We pulled our board up on the beach, fully dressed with swimsuits covered by shorts and tee shirts. A stream of naked people passed us, gaping as if two beached whales had just washed up on shore.
As it turned out, this was indeed a very famous nude beach, a mecca for naturalists along this part of Spain. Not one sole on the beach was wearing a shred of clothing. We dragged our board a safe distance onto the beach and searched for the most remote spot to spread our blanket.
We gave it a go. We picked a spot way up on the beach, close to the trees, and tried to do the naked thing. We sat for about 10 minutes, watching streams of people strolling completely naked from one end of the beach to the other. It was like watching a naked parade. I glanced at Dan and said, “You know, there are parts of you that are going to change from bright white to crispy red in about 10 more minutes.”
We looked at one another and said at the exact same time, “Let’s go hiking.”
We dressed appropriately and headed for the tree line, passing a group of men playing beach paddle ball. They jumped and swung their rackets at the flying balls with reckless abandon. I looked at Dan and asked him, “Can we go to another beach tomorrow? I’m not quite acclimated enough to watch this beach’s ball games.”
4. Viva La France!
I love the French. We had a foreign exchange student from France who came to us as a teenager for one summer. She showed up the next three summers on her own because she loved staying with our family so much. We loved her too and through her, we learned a lot about French culture. There were a few things she didn’t educate us about, let’s just say she left a few topics uncovered.
We learned in Bermuda that French men love to sail naked. Upon our arrival at Georgetown Harbor, we were excited beyond belief to have made it to a safe harbor after a traumatic and rough crossing from the US. Heavy weather was following. 50-knot winds were predicted for two days straight. We had to find a secure anchorage and hold on for dear life.
Our welcome into the harbor consisted of a tightly packed fleet of ships seeking refuge from the storm. We had to carefully navigate through the anchorage to find an open space. It was a beautiful, sunny day, and a French-flagged boat and her three crew members were making the best of the calm before the storm. They were standing on the stern, completely naked, in the middle of the day, soaking up the sunshine and taking a dip into the cerulean blue Bermudian water.
Our first choice was to pass by the stern of the French ship and get well past them before we anchored. We found an open spot. We had a boat in front of us and behind us but we were able to leave a big space between us and the Frenchmen. Our boat buddies who crossed from Hampton, Virginia with us in the Salty Dog Rally, were not far behind. They hailed us on the radio and asked if there was any space left for them in the harbor. We assured them, we left a nice big area next to us, right behind a French boat.
“Great!” they replied. “We will be there shortly.”
We had our anchor set and were sitting in our cockpit enjoying happy hour when S/V Whatever She Wants (WSW) pulled into the harbor. The Frenchmen were still having a great time swimming and sunning “a la nude.”
We waved and watched our friend’s expressions. They both glanced at the French boat, then turned and looked over at us. We smiled and raised our glasses and made a show of toasting their arrival. That’s when our radio crackled to life. They only had one word for us… “REALLY!” They were taking the last spot left in the harbor. They had to pull within feet of the Frenchmen’s stern to drop their anchor and drift back into the empty spot. The Friendly naked Frenchmen waved to them, welcoming them to the harbor.
I wish this story ended here, but it doesn’t. The following day, the storm hit. Chaos ensued. Winds were sustained in the 50s. The result was catastrophic. We stayed glued to the Bahama Radio VHF channel and listened to the parade of distress calls. No less than 5 dinghies fled from their mother ships. Sails became unfurled and were torn to shreds. Several boats dragged anchor and were not successful in re-anchoring so they had to flee to the other side of the harbor. The Bahama rescue boat came to the aid of at least two boats with backup anchors to help them stay secure. It was quite the show.
By the time we went to bed, the storm was still raging and had another 24 hours of blow left. Both our boat and our buddies’ boat seemed to be holding steady. Dan and I went below to try and get some sleep. Our friend Gary on WSW decided he was going to stay up and keep an eye on things so he rested in the cockpit.
We have to crawl into berth as our bulkhead slopes low toward the head of our bed. We do a great job of not bumping our heads when we get in and out of bed. That was about to change. Around 3 AM, we were awakened by the blast of an air horn. An air horn sounded at night is a clear warning that there is imminent danger. The moment it went off, Dan reacted by bolting straight upright. He promptly bashed his head on the bulkhead, breaking our “not bumping our heads” streak.
The sound came from WSW anchored next to us. We feared she was dragging into us. We raced up on deck and prepared for the worst. It was not us that was in danger, and WSW still seemed secure. The French boat, however, was dragging anchor and was on a collision course with WSW.
Gary’s warning horn woke the sleeping Frenchmen. Apparently, they also sleep in the nude. The deck of their boat was immediately illuminated. The three men reced to the stern, bracing themselves in the gale-force winds. They recognized their peril and sprang into action. The next few minutes were tense as they raced to get the engine started, pull up the anchor, and prevent a collision with WSW. All the boats surrounding us were up and watching the drama unfold. The French boat was unable to re-anchor and ended up fleeing with the others to the far side of the harbor.
Thankfully we all remained unscathed from the 48-hour storm, physically anyway. While we respect the freedom of nude dom, we feel that in times of heavy weather and uncertainty, it’s best to don foul-weather gear rather than your birthday suit.
3. Reeling in a Big One!
The weekend of our 36th wedding anniversary. We had a two-day crossing to get from the Balearic Islands to Sardinia. The wind started out stronger than predicted and we had our hands full managing the sails and staying on course. It was less than relaxing.
By the time we went to bed, the wind began to abate. It was our anniversary. I was on the morning watch and got to see the brilliant sunrise, feel the warm sun on my face, and breathe a sigh of relief that it was looking to be a gorgeous and relaxing day. What a great anniversary gift! The only thing that could make it better would be catching a fish. We hadn’t caught anything since the Caribbean. I was craving fresh-caught fish so I woke up Dan and we had an anniversary toast. I deployed the fishing line, and then Dan went to take a nap to catch up on his sleep,
I had recently purchased a new lure in Spain. I talked to the store owner and told him I needed to catch a tuna. I begged him to recommend a lure that would guarantee I would catch a tuna. He nodded, went to the rack, and pulled one out. He handed it to me with a warning. “You will catch a tuna with this, but you might catch a small one, or you might catch a big one.”
I didn’t care, as long as we landed a tuna.
The line was out for about an hour. I was sitting in my chair on the stern when the sound of the line spooling out shot me out of my chair like a rocket. I was dressed in a loose-fitting sarong and struggled to get the rod out of the holder without getting my clothing caught in the reel as I tightened the drag. I knew immediately it was a big fish. No matter what I did, the line kept playing out.
Thankfully, Dan was awakened by the pounding of my feet and the buzz of the line. He was roused from a sound sleep but within seconds I heard him behind me and felt his hands reach around me and grab the rod. Thankful, I handed it over to him. I immediately rushed into the cockpit to slow the boat down as we were motor sailing. Then, I grabbed my phone to record the reeling in one of our first big catches in two years.
Dan was struggling. He yelled at me to get the belt on him so he could secure the end of the rod and battle the fish. I put my phone down and grabbed the belt. That’s when I noticed, he didn’t have time to put on his pants before he came up. Ooopsy.
“What are you waiting for!” Dan screamed. “Get the belt on me, now!”
Okay. There were a few loose ends that were bothering me, but I did my best to get the belt around Dan’s waist and line the rod pocket in front. He was battling a giant and couldn’t move the end of the pole. I had to grab it with both hands and carefully direct it into the pocket. After a few missed attempts, and a few near misses, I finally succeeded. Dan was exhausted after the first few minutes of the battle.
We had hooked a tuna. It was massive. As I do a video blog, I wanted to get Dan in action reeling in our anniversary tuna! However, when I grabbed my phone, I had to be very careful to make sure every shot of Dan was from the mid-section up. Our videos are rated G.
Our anniversary tuna turned out to weigh around 30 pounds. The man who sold us the lure was correct in that it would catch a tuna. While we were ecstatic to catch it, I wondered how we were ever going to eat this much tuna! Thankfully, when we arrived in Sardinia, I was able to share the tuna with WSW who gratefully took several filets off our hands.
If you happen to look up our YouTube Channel Sailing Equus pull up our anniversary video, you can be sure all the footage will show Dan from the waist up!
2. Not All English Is Proper
My conception of the British is that they are prim and proper. Their lovely accents bathe them in an aura of sophistication. That illusion was shattered for me in Menorca. Dan and I anchored in a beautiful little harbor with a few other sailboats surrounding us. As per routine, we jumped on our paddle board and headed to the beach to spend the day.
Just as we were paddling back to our boat at the end of a beautiful day, we noticed a dinghy had pulled up to the back of our boat. They had most likely seen our OCC flag (Ocean Cruising Club) and assumed we were onboard as our dingy was still attached to our boat. Fellow OCC members who see our flag often come up and introduce themselves. It’s a great way to meet fellow cruisers.
As we had quite a distance to paddle to get back to our boat, they were long gone by the time we arrived. I told Dan to go ahead and get on board. I would paddle toward the other boats to find our fellow OCC members and introduce myself. Five minutes later, I spotted a sailboat flying the OCC flag. I aimed toward that boat and noticed it was flying a British Flag. “Great!” I thought. “This will be fun.”
As I approached on my stand-up paddleboard, I slowed down my stroke as I noticed a totally naked woman step off the back of the boat and into the water obviously taking an evening dip. I had a choice. I could turn and paddle back to our boat and remain anonymous. Or, I could approach and introduce myself as she was now mostly cloaked by the water. I chose the latter.
I got close enough to have a chat. I explained we had been ashore and we saw them arrive at our boat. I explained I was excited to meet a fellow OCC boat and wanted to introduce myself. She was talkative and began an intense conversation about her and her husband’s sailing adventures. Ever so slowly, I was drifting closer to the stern of their boat.
She had drifted further from their stern. I had drifted closer. I was only a few feet away when her husband appeared. He arrived on the stern prepared for an evening dip, totally naked. Unfortunately, my current position placed me at eye level with his mid-section. Only a few feet separated us, my mind was screaming at me “Eyes up, eyes up!” I’m fairly stable on my paddle board, but I suddenly found myself very unbalanced. I wanted to paddle backward and turn away, but the man was chatting away, busy introducing himself and asking me questions. I was struggling to stay on my board while praying at the same time that I would accidentally fall off and be released from this awkward situation.
I was at my tipping point when suddenly, my new friend dove into the water. My discomfort ended and I was able to finish the conversation before making an excuse to paddle back to our boat and strangle Dan, I mean, to make dinner.
When I got back to the boat Dan asked me how it went… I colorfully relayed the story.
I wish I could say this is where this story ended… but I already said that in one of the other stories. However, it is true once again. We pulled up anchor the next day and traveled about 10 miles to an anchorage to the east. It was a crowded anchorage and we struggled to find an open spot to drop anchor.
Just as we were getting settled, relaxing that our anchor was holding and we were secure, a sailboat motored into the harbor. “They aren’t going to try and anchor next to us, are they?” I asked Dan with some anxiety. There wasn’t much room between us and the next boat.
“I think I recognize that boat. Isn’t that your new British OCC friends?” Dan asked with a wry smile.
I jumped up and watched the boat as it approached. There was something staring me in the face that I immediately recognized. It was our new British friends. Hubby was up on the bow doing anchor duty. He was buck naked, again.
“Why?” I thought out loud. “Why would you sail into a crowded harbor, have parts dangling dangerously close to an electric windlass, and lower your anchor with no clothes on?”
We never actually got close enough to chat again with our fellow OCC members. By dawn the next morning we were out of the harbor and on our way east. I learned my lesson that a really cool British accent does not make one prim and proper!
1. When Good Antics Go Bad
Our wedding was a complete and utter disaster, supposedly a good omen for a great marriage. We nailed that one! However, I woke up on our first morning of being out at anchor, only to find my new husband, with the binoculars, gaping at the topless ladies on the sailboat next door performing aerobics. I wiped that huge grin off his face pretty quickly when I yanked the spyglass out of his hands and glared at him.
Topless was a thing in the Virgin Islands. Seeing as how it was our honeymoon, I went against my instincts and tried to accommodate Dan if and when there were no other boats in sight. This was not enough for my hormone-raging husband. His dream, which he begged me daily to fulfill, was to windsurf topless. We had rented a windsurfer along with our boat. Not only was I against this idea, we had two solid weeks of winds in the 20 to 30 range and I was not experienced enough to be able to stay up in that level of breeze. Dan, however, was having a blast.
The days flew by and before we knew it, we had arrived at the Bitter End Yacht Club on the island of Virgin Gorda. We had a couple more days to complete our trip around the British Islands before heading home to reality. We anchored in the gorgeous harbor facing the then, tree-line hillside (the harbor was utterly destroyed by Hurricane Irma), and toasted to the view and the upcoming sunset from the comfort of our cockpit.
Suddenly, I noticed something. “Dan, do you feel it?”
“What?”
“The wind. The wind is hardly strong at all. I think it is down to ten knots!”
This was a first since we had been there.
“And?” he asked.
My next statement was definitely uttered due to the fact that alcohol had been involved in the thought process. “You know how you have been hounding me to windsurf topless? It’s almost dark, no one else is on deck, and the wind is down. I’m ready. Let’s do it. Tonight, I’m going to fulfill your fantasy.
As an excited Dan prepared the windsurfer, I looked around the harbor. The sun had set and it was twilight. There was not a soul to be seen on the deck of any of the surrounding boats. “You can do this!” I told myself. I felt brave, a rebel, a newly married woman testing the unrestrained bounds of her new life. I was exhilarated and fearful at the same time.
The time came for me to get on the board. I was a bit shaky. As I started to pull up the sail, Dan said “Um, aren’t you forgetting something?”
“Oh yeah,” I said with a snicker and tossed him my top.
I was brilliant. As soon as I got my rhythm back, I cruised along nicely. I sailed along the back row of sailboats, flying by in about 12 knots of breeze. Darkness was setting in and I didn’t want to get too far away from our boat. I turned the board and headed back, wearing nothing but bikini bottoms and a huge smile on my face. I was fulfilling my husband’s fantasy and there was no one else to witness the event, a win-win for me!
I thought it odd, however, that when I got back to our boat, Dan was nowhere to be seen. “How dare he?” I thought with growing ire. “I’m out here, fulfilling his damn fantasy, and he can’t even stick around to greet me upon my return?”
I was fuming as I tied up the board, left the sail in the water, and climbed onto the stern. I stormed down the companionway stairs ready to reem out my husband.
That’s when a strange man sat up from sleeping on the settee. “Who the hell are you!” he exclaimed.
If I had the power to disappear, I would have instantly evaporated. I did not, so all I could do is turn and bolt back up the stairs and flee from the scene of the crime. It was obvious at that point I had boarded the wrong sailboat.
As fast as my trembling hands could manage, I untied the board, pulled up the sail, and headed into the growing darkness. Two boats down, I could make out the silhouette of Dan, bent over in laughter.
I may have fulfilled Dan’s fantasy, but I windsurfed my way right into my worst nightmare, which I have kept well hidden until now. I hope you all had a good laugh. Looking back, I would love to share your humor, but 36 years later, the memory is still alive and well. That being said, it still needed to be bared as the number one, most embarrassing sailing naked story! Got a good sailing naked story? Please share.
If you’ve ever wondered what it’s like to sell your home on land and set sail unfettered to explore the world, “Sailing the Waves of Reality: Tales of Turmoil and Triumph” is a must-read. Join us as we navigate intriguing islands, captivating destinations, and the surreal beauty of our diverse planet. This book is a collection of our triumphs and trials, guaranteed to evoke both laughter and tears, all while immersing you in our remarkable journey. Most importantly, it unveils the Facts and Realities of life as blue water cruisers.
The first five years of our sailing adventure will be released on Amazon on November 1st. You can now pre-order it in both Kindle and print versions. This book is a riveting account of our triumphs and trials, sure to leave you on the edge of your seat as you experience the voyage along with us.”
Fair Winds,
Alison and Dan
S/V/ Equus
The Orca Issue – Sailing Equus Adventure Episode 6
Fair winds and following seas,
Alison and Dan
s/v Equus