On Friday night, June 20th, I disembarked from the tall ship, 'Maybe', at Poolbeg in Dublin Port, completing a week of sailing that began on the river Liffey as we sailed out on Monday, 16th June.
I was the volunteer mentor with Sail Training Ireland on this trip1, with a group of adult students from Dublin's North East Inner City (NIEC)2. It was my first time in the role of mentor after doing the training earlier this year and to be clear, my role of mentor has nothing to do with sailing, the professional crew are the ones who are the experts at that.3 As a mentor the Irish word, ‘tionlacan’, appeals to me. A mentor as one who accompanies, in this case accompanying those who have embarked on a journey, both in the actual and metaphorical sense.
Day #1 Sunday, 15th June 2025 - journal extract
It’s almost 9pm and it’s been a very full day. I’m out on deck now, taking a few quiet minutes in the evening light, gathering myself. I have met the trainee crew, of mixed nationalities, two women, five men. I felt a little shiver of delight when I learned that we will be sailing towards the summer solstice with a trainee crew that includes one woman whose name starts with Sol (for sun) and the other whose first name is Lucy (for light)! The trainee crew are returners to further education in Dublin’s North East Inner City (NEIC). We’ve all been inducted by the three person crew of Adam (Skipper), Leo (Mate) and Sarah (Deckhand) into the geography of our small home for the week, assigned to cabins and watches and have already completed some tasks, including prepping the ingredients for our first dinner together - roast ham, vegetables, potatoes - all cooked from scratch in the tiny cabin and later enjoyed together around the dining table in the saloon.
Now, to close today, some church bells ring out the hour of 9pm. I can hear gulls screech and the every-present city sounds, hums and growls of traffic in the city centre streets of Dublin, behind me. The breeze is freshening and it is getting chilly here on deck. Tomorrow we set sail.
Day #2 Monday, 16th June 2025 - journal extract
It’s Bloomsday, the day on which Joyce set his novel Ulysses, choosing the date as a homage to the day on which he and Nora Barnacle first walked out together. I’m on the River Liffey, on board the TS ‘Maybe’ and waiting for skipper Adam to get confirmation of a bridge lift at 11am, the bridge officially named as the Tom Clarke Bridge but more commonly known to commuters as the East Link Bridge. The trainee crew have been busy getting this vessel shipshape, under instruction from mate Leo, both on deck and below. On deck two trainees are giving the deck a salt water scrub to allow the original teak deck timbers to swell and thus become proof against rain. Below deck others are busy vacuuming floors and wiping around the kitchen / galley area, the cabins, sanitising the two bathrooms. The sun is shining, there’s a breeze and all seems good. I take a conscious breath here at the table as I write. Even though I doubt I will have much opportunity to read, I have with me the book The Flow by Amy-Jane Beer4, chosen because it’s been on my to-read pile for quite a while, because I cannot travel without a book, and because it is water-related.
10.15am: We are all to be up on deck at 10.45 wearing our life jackets for the bridge lift at 11. Then we will be off! I have distributed their sky blue T shirts with the Sail Training Ireland logo and now trainee Lucy is writing the first of the daily blogs on the Notes app on my phone for me to send on to Sail Training Ireland. Lots of photos taken, knots practised - our induction has been fun!
22.50: We are about to drop anchor in Strangford Lough in Northern Ireland. Day #1 of sailing is complete. I popped my head up on deck and there were twinkling lights of houses and buildings on both sides of the lough. Here in the galley the lighting has turned to red, for restful night vision. Now there’s the noise of the anchor chain being lowered. Leo is shouting some instructions. A very early start is planned for tomorrow to cross the Irish Sea and get to Peel on the Isle of Man. 4.30am!
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In The Flow Amy-Jane Beer writes, ‘water is an imperative’, as she practices using divining-rods to locate hidden water sources on a ‘tussocky hillside’. It is an element that is not just essential to life, but something we are energetically drawn towards. As we set sail over the coming days on the ‘Maybe’, blessed with sunshine, blue skies and blue sea, any of us can be found on deck, between tasks and duties, simply gazing at the water. As we experience the swell and dip of the ship, watch the terns in pairs flying low to the water, we become mesmerised by the rhythm. The sea at times satin-smooth, sometimes with a certain surface effect as if a net had been cast across it. We fall under a spell.
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Sailing on a tall ship is all about teamwork, hand work, body work. We eat well, and everything is prepared from scratch and freshly cooked. Big pots of soup, salads, roast veg. I chop chorizo into dice and beside me Richie chops peppers, onions and leaves for a large salad. This is a lovely way to get to know the trainees as we chop and chat. There was a great laugh the day Vincent, fishing for mackerel, had his hat blow off into the sea. Then he caught it on his line and reeled it in. He also had a fine catch of mackerel, which we later cooked and relished.
Hoisting sails is a complete body and team workout. Mate Leo’s command, ‘two, six, heave’, gives everyone the rhythm as we lean back, rope in hand, straining hard to get each sail hoisted. There is something healing about the physical aspect of engaging both rope and muscle, about the effort and the control required, about exerting ourselves as one body to get those large canvas squares and triangles to rise above us, to harness the air, to move this vessel across the body of water that is the Irish Sea, as coastal communities have been doing since the time of the ancients. We are truly out of our minds, fully into our bodies. We breathe, sweat, glow. We know we are alive.
We continue to cross the Irish Sea, over to the Isle of Man with overnight stops at the port of Peel and another at the beautiful Port St. Mary, back to Strangford Lough and the town of Warrenpoint with its background of the green and purple hills of County Down. We adapt to the strict limits, the confined physical area of this almost one hundred year old vessel, tiny against the breadth and depth of the sea we sail upon, the sky that is wide and bright above us. There is something about these kinds of limits that are, paradoxically, expansive and life-enhancing. And that is the point of these voyages, the vision of Sail Training Ireland. I’m there in the role of mentor, but of course I also learn a lot - about my own capacities and about the capacities and generosity of each person on this tall ship. It occurs to me that ‘Maybe’ is a good name - ‘maybe’ we are capable of far more than we have suspected?
Day #6 Friday, 20th June 2025 - journal extract
The sun is warm, the sky is a pale blue with wisps of cloud, it becomes almost milky towards the horizon. The sea is slightly rolling, a rhythmic soothing slap of water against the boat. The east coast of Ireland is now faintly visible. All sails are up as we make for home on the eve of midsummer, this turning of the year. We all took the risk to leave the familiar and embark on a voyage. We said 'yes' when we might have said 'not yet'. The discoveries and rewards are personal to each of us, difficult to quantify or name as most such things are. But I can see it in the light in everyone’s face as we say our farewells before disembarking at Poolbeg. This is about sailing but it's about so much more too.
“At midsummer, we are midsummer. We are summer with the sun on our face.” (Myozan Ian Kilroy)5
Read my post, ‘My Mind is a Chaos of Delight’, for an account of my first experience on a tall ship and my falling in love with the ethos of Sail Training Ireland.
A big thanks from me to the trainee crew of Lucy, Vincent, Richie, Solveiga, Bogdan, Emanuel and Tarik who were so open to learning many new skills, who taught me lots, and were great fun to be with. We accompanied each other as we expanded our horizons, our comfort zones.
The three person crew of Adam, Leo and Sarah were incredibly patient and clear with instructions and directions and I'm hardly the only one who could still hear Leo's voice, days later, shouting, 'two, six, heave!' as with teamwork we raised and lowered sails. Thank you all!
I happened upon this book in the wonderful Vibes & Scribes in Cork city.
From Do Not Try to Become a Buddha: Practicing Zen Right Where You Are by Myozan Ian Kilroy. I sourced my copy at the lovely independent bookshop, The Bookworm, Thurles
Margaret what a wonderful ship's log. Maybe so aptly named. I loved your diary and felt we the readers sailed through these days of high Summer with you . Thank you . I especially loved where you and all there said yes to the call rather than not yet .... that will stay with me as well as the beautiful descriptions of the sea throughout.
What a wonderful "Ship's Log" Margaret capturing the beautiful essence of your voyage on 'The Maybe'