A once-in-a-lifetime adventure with no end in sight – life aboard small boats stranded at sea

Leslie and Andrew Godfrey, both 38, were enjoying a five-day, 750-mile sailing journey from Sri Lanka to the Maldives when the world underwent a drastic change.

Cut off from the internet, the couple remained unaware that Covid-19 had spread globally and was soon declared a pandemic.

From March 7 to 12, as they sailed across the Laccadive Sea toward the crystal-clear waters of the northern Maldives, ports were rapidly closing, a pace no small sailboat could match.

Each year, around 10,000 small boats, manned by families and solo travelers, venture out to explore the world's oceans.

They journey from country to country, following traditional trade routes influenced by seasonal shifts. When cyclone season arrives, the aim is to stay ahead of the storms.

This year, a new challenge emerged. As Covid-19 grounded the world, these sailors—who often have no other home but their boats—found themselves trapped.

By the time the Godfreys arrived on land, the Maldives had recorded its eighth confirmed Covid-19 case.

'Our check-in was delayed when officials were summoned for an emergency meeting,' Leslie shares on her blog. By the time they returned, the Maldives had declared a state of emergency.

The Godfreys, originally from Las Vegas, began planning their five-year sailing adventure around the globe while still in college.

Their 39-year-old Valiant 40 sailboat, Sonrisa, may be small by house standards. However, after two extensive refits, including strengthening the hull with fiberglass and varnishing the table, it’s now a comfortable and seaworthy home.

For the past four and a half years, they’ve anchored in tropical paradises and bustling cities – embracing the art of slow travel to connect more deeply with people, places, and themselves.

Their journey through the Maldives was meant to take them south along an archipelago home to majestic manta rays, playful dolphins, and whales, where they’d encounter a seafaring community known for their warmth and hospitality. From there, they planned to continue their exploration of the Indian Ocean, eventually heading towards South Africa.

Countries like the Maldives face a complex challenge when it comes to managing traveling sailors. The nation’s immediate concern is halting the spread of the virus, but it also recognizes the pandemic as a humanitarian emergency.

In an effort to protect the local population, authorities have confined boats like Sonrisa to one area, providing basic supplies and allowing limited access to a remote atoll.

Two months later, the Godfreys remain in the same tranquil location. Despite the idyllic surroundings, they are stuck—unable to move forward or backward.

In the Maldives, the Kethi season has arrived, bringing monsoon storms with it. 'This is a triage situation,' Leslie writes.

Leslie and Andrew are now weighing their options: Should they wait out the storm in the relative safety of the Maldives, or set sail for an uncertain destination, hoping to get closer to home?

What they’re keen to avoid is ending up in a country with closed borders, 'only to be sent back out to sea, endlessly circling between nations, searching for fuel, food, and water.'

Sailing through a pandemic

Under normal circumstances, long-distance sailing demands a mix of luck, determination, and the ability to improvise on the go. But during a pandemic, the dream of 'sailing into the sunset' isn’t quite as romantic as many land-dwellers might think.

Sue Richards, editor of Noonsite, a crucial online resource for long-distance sailors, highlights the issue: 'Small liveaboard yachts are being treated like cruise ships in most countries.'

However, unlike cruise ships, which are staffed with professional crews and designed to navigate stormy seas in search of welcoming ports, these small yachts are operated by recreational sailors. The families and solo travelers aboard often endure long periods of isolation during their ocean crossings—essentially a built-in quarantine.

Stranded at sea

'It feels like the boats navigating the Red Sea are mere extras in a disaster movie,' writes 62-year-old Susie Harris in her blog. She and her 53-year-old husband, Kevin, are attempting to return to Ireland aboard their 47-foot sailboat, Temptress of Down.

The couple, who left the United Kingdom in 2013, sailed across the Atlantic, through the Caribbean, and then across the Pacific, from Panama to Singapore. This year, their journey was supposed to take them through the Indian Ocean, past the Red Sea and Suez Canal, into the Mediterranean, and eventually back home to care for their elderly parents.

But as they reached the Red Sea, ports began shutting down.

'We always knew the Red Sea would be challenging, but the pandemic turned it into an endless nightmare of uncertainty,' Susie writes about the notoriously windy waters. After departing Djibouti on March 7, the couple discovered that Eritrea, Sudan, and Egypt – the countries where they planned to stop for supplies and exploration – had closed their borders, with some even forcibly turning sailors away.

At best, the authorities offered overpriced emergency fuel and supplies.

Left with no other option, the Harrises pressed on, battling sandstorms, strong currents, engine malfunctions, and the more pressing concern of a broken reverse osmosis water-maker, a device essential for producing drinking water on long voyages.

'The fear that we might run out of water, fuel, or food has been a huge emotional and physical strain,' Susie wrote in an email from a temporary stop in Crete after finally passing through the Red Sea.

Fortunately, local farmers who were unable to ship their crops generously shared tomatoes, peppers, and cucumbers with the stranded sailors.

Both the Harrises and their boat, in desperate need of repairs and hard-to-find spare parts, are too drained to safely complete the remaining 3,000-mile journey to Ireland. Their only hope now is that Greece will allow them to dock.

Finding a safe harbor

Countries that have agreed to accept stranded sailors are grappling with their own challenges.

In French Polynesia, the first stop on the renowned Coconut Milk Run across the South Pacific towards New Zealand or Australia, around 500 boats have arrived.

As the sailing season begins in early March, hundreds of boats were already en route on their 15 to 40+ day journeys from the west coast of the United States, Mexico, and Panama, long before the full scope of the Covid-19 crisis became clear.

As the situation unfolded, more boats arrived, with optimistic captains believing the crisis would be short-lived. Instead, as countries to the west locked down, hundreds of sailboats were stranded in French Polynesia.

David Fair, a 26-year-old Australian, is alone on his boat, Soma, in Nuku Hiva. His partner, Ally He, had left the boat two months earlier to fly from Panama to Australia for a prenatal appointment. The plan was for her to meet him in the Galapagos once she had received medical clearance.

Their original plan was to finish their sailing journey that started in France a year ago. But just two weeks out from Panama, Fair received news that the Galapagos had closed its borders, and French Polynesia was likely to follow.

Fair remembers the voyage with a sense of wonder: "The nights were magical, with stars lighting up the sky, guiding me toward my destination," he says of the slow-paced journey, which was occasionally interrupted by sightings of whales and dolphins.

When he found out he had to bypass the Galapagos and head straight for the Marquesas, followed by a direct course to Tahiti, Fair tried to remain positive as the trip extended into a seven-week passage.

"I was lucky," Fair reflects via WhatsApp from his anchorage beneath the dramatic peaks of Nuku Hiva. Unable to complete the final 800-mile stretch to Tahiti, he arrived at the Marquesas just as their lockdown lifted.

Fair was allowed to come ashore and explore the dense, fragrant jungle. "I can’t officially enter the country, but I’m allowed to restock on food and fuel for the next leg of my trip," he shares.

The next stretch of Fair's journey will be a challenging, nonstop 4,000-nautical-mile sail to Australia, where he plans to reunite with his pregnant partner. The journey could take up to two months.

Typically, sailors spend around eight months navigating the vast expanse of islands scattered throughout the South Pacific. The allure of these islands lies not only in their beauty but also in their shelter from the unpredictable storms that sweep across the ocean. By timing their travels with "weather windows," sailors can safely hop from island to island, avoiding the worst of the conditions.

Should they stay on the water or head home?

Nathalie and Michael Neve, together with their children Naomie, 7, Bastien, 9, and Noah, 11, were already in French Polynesia when the restrictions were enforced.

Having secured long-term visas the previous year, the Oregon-based family had planned to explore French Polynesia until the end of April, before continuing westward toward Australia to complete their family sabbatical by November's end.

However, as the first of what would become 60 confirmed cases emerged, French Polynesia mirrored France's response and imposed a lockdown. The Neve family was instructed to remain isolated aboard their 43-foot sailboat, Ubi. They were unable to disembark or even swim in the waters where they were anchored.

"Locals couldn’t even visit the beach to swim, so we had to follow the same restrictions. It was hot, but we made do," Nathalie shared with Dinogo Travel via WhatsApp.

As more boats gathered, sailors on a Facebook group dedicated to French Polynesia reported growing suspicion among locals about the influx of foreign yachts.

Some residents expressed concerns that the interrupted supply chain might lead to shortages of food and medical supplies. A recent news report also highlighted growing frustration among Faa’a residents, with some requesting a meeting with local authorities to address their concerns about the boats.

The Neve family is navigating limited choices, which include leaving their boat in Tahiti and booking costly repatriation flights back home (if they can even find one to their country), attempting to sail to Hawaii and then back to North America, or continuing their journey across the Pacific in hopes of finding a country willing to accept them.

Richards notes that Noonsite has been receiving a growing number of anxious messages from sailors worldwide as hurricane, typhoon, and cyclone season approaches. She emphasizes that the distance sailors need to cover to return home can span thousands of miles, taking weeks or even months, making the lack of safe harbor options a critical concern.

Collaborating with sailing organizations like the Seven Seas Cruising Association and the Ocean Cruising Club, along with embassies, official agencies, marine businesses, and sailors themselves, the small Noonsite team has been working tirelessly to keep up with changing restrictions and identify safe options for sailors in distress.

In the Caribbean, they managed to compile a list of safe harbors for boats making the journey across the Atlantic, aiming to help those repatriating to Europe. They hope to replicate this effort in the Pacific and Indian Oceans as well.

Isolate and wait

At present, many sailors aboard their small boats are isolating and waiting, thankful for their current refuge but uncertain about what lies ahead.

In a remote, uninhabited atoll in the Bahamas, the Swedish-American Trautman family — Brian, 43; Karin, 33; and baby Sierra — find themselves trapped between the looming hurricane season and a global pandemic.

The original plan for the popular YouTube sailing family was to pick up Brian’s brother, Brady, and then continue their voyage north on the 53-foot Delos, heading to Newfoundland, Greenland, and eventually through the Northwest Passage to Seattle, completing the circumnavigation they had begun over a decade ago.

For the last 80 days, they’ve been holed up in a remote anchorage with eight other boats, waiting out the storm.

“It feels like we’ve been preparing for this moment our entire sailing journey,” Brian shared with Dinogo Travel over Zoom. With no medical facilities nearby and groceries taking up to three days to arrive via freighter from Nassau, life is a constant challenge.

However, Brian explains that they’ve learned to rely on themselves: “We have enough food and fuel to last months, and we can make our own water and alcohol.”

The most challenging aspect for the wandering couple is accepting the emotional toll of being unable to continue their journey. But for now, Brian says they are safe, well, and adapting to a slower pace of life.

“Turning lemons into lemonade,” he adds with a smile.