Marinas certainly have their charm, no question about it. Taverns, shore leave, a bit of life on the jetty – that can be lovely. But let’s be honest: overcrowded marinas, the hassle of finding a berth, narrow passageways between berths – bow thrusters or not: manoeuvring in a packed marina is stressful for me, not a holiday. And then you’re moored shoulder to shoulder, the fenders are squeaking, and the neighbour next door is keeping the noise going all night long. Anyone who’s had a long day on the water just wants to settle in. Not have to battle it out all over again. A quiet cove, drop the anchor, switch off the engine – that’s what settling in is all about! And anyone who cites a lack of comfort as an argument against it is simply wrong. Lithium batteries, inverters, plenty of fresh water – modern boats are so well equipped that a harbour no longer offers any advantages you really need. Instead, I get to experience sunsets that I simply would never have seen in a harbour. In the morning, I jump straight into the water from the stern. I have breakfast in the cockpit, alone with the bay. And I sleep better there than anywhere else – with just the lapping of the water against the hull. For me, this isn’t an exception. It’s the very reason I’m out on the water in the first place.
Anchoring is wonderful, no question about it. There’s hardly a greater sense of freedom than mooring your own or a chartered yacht in a quiet cove, often surrounded by unspoilt nature, far away from the noise of the harbour, the jetties and the tangle of ropes. I think it’s brilliant for a lunch break or an afternoon: a swim, a meal, a brief moment to enjoy the peace and quiet, and then on we go. Actually, spending the night at anchor sounds idyllic too. It’s just a pity that I don’t sleep idyllically whilst doing so. Even if the anchoring manoeuvre has been carried out carefully, the seabed holds well and the anchor alarm is switched on, I’m left with this niggling sense of unease. What if the wind shifts? What if the anchor doesn’t hold after all? What if the yacht starts to drift? Perhaps it’s irrational, but at three in the morning it feels very real. That’s why I tend to anchor overnight only as a rare exception. Not because I don’t appreciate anchoring, but because, for me, relaxation also means being able to sleep peacefully. And after all, small harbours have their very own charm: tavernas, shore leave, foreign cultures, pleasant conversations, a bit of life on the jetty. That, too, is freedom.
Umfrage läuft bis 30.07.2026
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