The Messy Middle
I’ll be honest: sometimes I have no idea what direction I am really taking in sailing. At one point in 2020, I had a grand plan: move to France, race La Solitaire du Figaro, race it again, learn, and try to progress—all while growing my project's reach and commercial value. I started it, moved to France in January 2021, raced La Solitaire, and learned.
Then I hit a brick wall; I felt I had reached the limit of what I could achieve on tiny budgets. However, I couldn’t keep growing the project. So, I let the dream go, followed the opportunities that came my way, and saw where it would get me. With luck on my side, I got some amazing opportunities: to launch a new Class40, score a podium in double-handed Figaro racing, and win again in fully crewed racing in 2024.
In 2025, my lucky streak of opportunities kept coming. I progressed technically as shore crew, achieved a podium in Class40 racing with the Cap pour Elle avec Engie team, and got to be a translator.
These are things that 2021 David would never believe he’d be capable of.
The Problem
Yet sometimes I feel directionless. Trying to take every opportunity feels like a rollercoaster, and I’m riding it facing backward, wondering where on earth this crazy, amazing sport will take me next. It also feels like, somewhere along the way, my grand plan to systematically work my way up went wrong.
The truth is, I have absolutely no idea how to progress from this point. How do I get higher? I’m immensely proud of what I’ve achieved; there aren’t too many Brits (this is somewhat arrogant to say) who can write that they have achieved podiums in Class40 and Figaro racing in France.
My Mess
I guess this means I’ve finished the part where this whole ocean racing at a professional level is no longer a new adventure or, for fans of clichés, a clean sheet of paper. I’ve drawn, written, and crossed out on my piece of paper, and it’s not really clear. I think I’m entering the ‘Messy Middle.’
Most people in offshore sailing categorize themselves into a role, whether that be a preparateur, a fully crewed sailor, a highly sought-after co-skipper for double-handed racing, or a lucky few who are exclusively solo sailors.
What’s messy is that, by total accident, I’m a weird mix. I’ve done a little solo racing, a little double-handed, a little fully crewed, and a little technical shore crew.
There are people who are honestly better than me at every single one of these roles, which, yes, at times works against me. This leads me to wonder how long I can continue like this. I’ve noticed the sailing world trying to put me into one of these boxes, whether I like that box or not.
In some ways, this mess has been productive; it’s allowed me to progress in areas of sailing that I wouldn’t have explored otherwise. It has allowed me to see races from another perspective and experience different ways of doing things, helping me get out of my own head.
Where Next?
This leads me to wonder: how do I progress from this crazy, if quite messy, point? Sometimes I wonder if I should add to my mess—attempt to learn how to use a camera and then add OBR (onboard reporter) to this already chaotic character. Sometimes I wonder if I should put down the books about meteorology and start reading about composite repairs. Sometimes I wonder if I should walk away from it all, head held high, proud of just how far I’ve come. I know I shouldn’t talk about doing this; it wouldn’t be giving up, but rather accepting I’ve reached my glass ceiling.
This is probably the part where I’m supposed to tell you how I’m going to solve the mess, which would include a life lesson that you, dear reader, can apply. (Certainly, it would be a nice way to say thank you for reading all this.) If I were a good writer, I’d have a jaw-dropping one-liner here: “Live by design, not by default.” If you know what this actually means, please let me know.
The truth is, I don’t actually know what I’m going to do about all this, and that’s okay. I know what my heart wants to happen next; I know what my brain thinks is practical, and I think it’s okay to feel somewhat lost at times.
I got to this point in sailing from a tiny lake in West London, so logically it stands to reason I can progress beyond it too. Besides if I knew how I was going progress, that would be boring.
So that’s my problem in November 2025.