An Englishman, Frenchman and Norwegian walk into a bar together… No, this isn’t the beginning of a good joke, this is the life of cruising yachtsmen, and part of our story aboard Liberdade. When my wife Dori and I were considering moving our home port to St. Petersburg, Florida, a friend we met when cruising up in Nova Scotia offered to introduce us to his sister and brother-in-law who lived there.
A call to his sister that we were cruising the Gulf Coast and anticipated arriving in a few weeks was met with a welcoming invitation to join them at the St. Petersburg Yacht Club for lunch when we arrived. On our lunch date, she invited two other couples to join us. Within days of arriving in a new town where we were considering settling, but knew no one, we were instantly befriended by three couples, who since then have become like family to us. In this group are the aforementioned Englishman, Frenchman and Norwegian, each owners of long-distance cruising yachts themselves. We couldn’t have been more fortunate.
In a world that has become all too cynical, filled with stories of how we are losing much of the social fabric of days gone by, cruising offers a counterpoint. Our modern, screen-dominated lives increasingly isolate people, with multiple studies showing that feelings of loneliness are on the rise. Our life aboard Liberdade has been the perfect antidote to this societal malaise.
Long-distance cruising is one of the most sociable activities we’ve ever participated in, and there is something about meeting someone at anchor or sharing a dock that feels like stepping back into a simpler, kinder time. Cruising naturally builds a sense of camaraderie. When you’re in a new harbor, the first dinghy ride to shore can lead to impromptu conversations as people exchange tips on provisioning, weather windows or favorite anchorages. It’s not long before those conversations turn into shared meals, drinks on deck or even joint passages to the next destination.
Unlike neighborhoods today, where front doors often remain closed and interactions might be limited to a wave from across the street, cruising communities thrive on openness. There is a unique bond formed by the shared experience of living at the mercy of the elements. Striking up a conversation with the boat next to you is a natural and almost expected gesture, with the result often being the start of a lasting friendship.
We’ve experienced this marvel time and again, and one of the most rewarding aspects of cruising is the diversity of people you meet. The community spans ages, nationalities and political leanings, all bound together by our love of the sea. We’ve shared meals with retired schoolteachers, engineers, generals, artists and young families homeschooling their children aboard. We’ve traded charts with Italians, helped Aussies repair their steering and celebrated birthdays with South Africans. The result is a rich tapestry of friendships stretching across the globe.
The importance of these connections isn’t just anecdotal. A landmark study on happiness, conducted by Harvard University over the course of 80 years, has shown that maintaining strong social connections is one of the most significant predictors of a happy and fulfilling life. The study revealed that relationships—more than wealth, fame or even health—are the key to a good life.
While the social aspects of cruising are delightful, they also have a practical side. The cruising community is famously generous, always ready to lend a hand, a tool or advice. When Dori and I found ourselves struggling with a watermaker issue in Bras d’Or on Cape Breton Island, it was a Canadian boat anchored nearby that came to our rescue with the spare part we needed. Life aboard has taught us that building relationships isn’t about grand gestures; it’s about showing up, being open and sharing experiences.
Our life aboard embodies this principle in a way few other lifestyles can. Relationships form quickly because everyone knows that time in a given anchorage or harbor is often fleeting. You might spend a few days or weeks with new friends before weather, a repair or wanderlust pulls you in different directions. But the intensity of shared experiences—like troubleshooting a mechanical problem together, weathering a squall or celebrating a milestone—creates bonds that transcend time and distance.
As we continue to explore the world, we’re struck by how small it feels when you’re part of such a welcoming and supportive community. Each harbor, anchorage and mooring ball feels like another opportunity to meet someone new and to deepen the ties that help make life aboard so fulfilling.
