A year and a half with Oceans of Hope. Early March last year Kristian and I flew to Bilbao, Spain on a cold Wednesday morning, just two days after shaking each other’s hands for the first time. Probably neither of us realized that from then on we would spend close to every single day together over the next 18 months, and for sure neither of us knew what it was going to take to pull it off!

Sitting here in the cockpit of the Sailing Yacht Oceans of Hope on the way from Darwin, Australia to Singapore with the setting sun in front of the 350 m2 spinnaker, looking around on our current crew representing Australia, New Zealand, Holland, and Denmark, I quickly realize that there is no way that the past year and a half is going to fit into one blog. The lessons we have learned, the friends we have made, the experiences we have been through, the places we have seen and the moments we have shared are not even going to fit into one book. Still, there are a couple of moments that stand out.

Embarking on a circumnavigation
The day we left from Amaliehaven in Copenhagen, Denmark on June 15, 2014 - more than one year and over 20.000 nautical miles ago, I could have never dreamed of the journey we were embarking on. We had all been so busy making the project come to life, that I think we had little time to realize what was lying ahead of us. The previous three months had practically vanished into thin air leaving us with a 67 foot steel boat to circumnavigate the globe and a dream that was about to come to life. As we sailed south through Europe the project started to take shape in our heads. At least it did in mine. Up until then, I just knew that we were going to sail around the world with a crew of people living with Multiple Sclerosis. And it was the right thing to do. Why, at the time, I didn’t know.

We reached Lisbon, Portugal late July, busier than ever, preparing for our first oceanic crossing. The first 10-15 crew members had signed on and off of the adventure of their life, in which a 21 year old Bosun and a 29 year old skipper were attempting to run the daily show, while our ever motivating and supportive team of Jens, Mikkel, Trine and soon Josh were backing up the “bus drivers”. Sailing through Europe while starting up a first-of-a-kind circumnavigation with all that entails, was as learning and as challenging as I could have ever imagined.

Crossing our first Ocean
The day we departed Europe on August 2nd heading for Boston, Massachusetts, USA we were all moved to tears as 50-100 local Portuguese men and women ran down the dock just when we were about to throw the mooring lines. They were all holding up signs with messages like: ”Fair winds, brave sailors”and “Safe crossing to the sailors of Oceans of Hope”, and many more I can’t remember a year after. I never even knew who the people were, but they had us leave Europe with smiles and tears on our faces, as we headed west on our first crossing. The first Transatlantic Crossing ever on a sailboat crewed by people with MS. How cool was that.

How did you come to be a part of such an incredible project? The question I have heard the most often, and my answer has always been the same: Mikkel asked me if I wanted to help him sail around the world, and people usually agree that there is, of course, only one answer to that.

Amongst many, one of my duties onboard, was caring for the media and blogs going from the yacht to the website. Being the first person to read every single blog written on the circumnavigation has been an absolute honour and privilege, and I am thankful for the opportunity. It has taken a whole lot more than I would have anticipated, but the way our dear crewmembers have allowed me into their personal stories has been an emotional experience beyond all expectations.

The first milestone of many
In Boston, over 3000 miles and one month to the west, horns were blowing, champagne was popping and the crowds were cheering. For the annual joined ECTRIMS/ACTRIMS-conference, the largest conference on Multiple Sclerosis in the world, we were applauded with a standing ovation that in this moment has the goose bumps going on my whole body. Our entire team standing in the characteristic red pants, symbolizing that you have crossed the Atlantic Ocean in a sailboat, and our bright white Sailing Sclerosis t-shirts, was moved to tears once more, as many thousand delegates with relation to MS were acknowledging our efforts. Knowing that these people, working every day for the same cause as ourselves, were appreciating the challenges we were taking on, was hard to comprehend. So many people agreeing that this was right. Walking down the streets and in the parks people would recognize my grey Oceans of Hope jacket and ask where the hell I got that from. Trying to leave such a conversation, after explaining how it was obtained and what we had only just accomplished, was close to impossible. Oceans of Hope and her crew were being applauded in every way possible.

From Boston down the Eastern Seaboard of the US and past the iconic New York City around November with a number of new crews allowing us to meet so many different people in the ever-changing environment of a circumnavigating sailboat - one moment in the heart of Manhattan wearing suits and ties, the next in Florida greeting the next VIP in just flip flops and swim shorts next to our latest crew of brave MS-sailors.

Sailing around the world while you have Multiple Sclerosis is probably not the first advice on any doctor’s list. Neither the second, the third or the 50th. Actually the stress, the physical requirements, the heat, the cold, the lack of sleep and the confined living areas suggest anything than suitable conditions for a patient with MS. For that reason we never took on patients with MS. Instead we have been sailing around the world with your everyday person who happens to live with Multiple Sclerosis. This perception of MS settled with myself, Kristian and any other person stepping onto Oceans of Hope. I wondered if my perception of MS so naturally came to me, as I had no previous perception of this specific disease. I don’t think it matters, as it is not just the perceptions of MS that we are challenging, but rather the perception of what is still possible once you meet limitations in life.

Another chapter and another Ocean
From Fort Lauderdale, Florida early this year we toured the Bahamas, pit stopped on Jamaica and suddenly found ourselves in the more than 100 years old locks of the Panama Canal. The big 45 tonnes, 67 foot steel sail yacht in the midst of making history was all of a sudden just a small piece in a bigger part of history. It was with humble minds and awe painted on our faces that we were elevated from the Atlantic Ocean 26 meters (same height as our own mast) to the enormous artificial lake on which we sailed for a full day, before being lowered all the way back down, now in the Pacific Ocean. The water looked somewhat similar, but it was a surreal feeling, when we realized the distances now in front of us. We embarked on our Transpacific Crossing early February towards the magical Galapagos Islands 900 nautical miles into the vast blue ocean.

“This boat is being sailed around the world by people who have MS,”we would tell any new crew who came onboard. Kristian, Mikkel, Jens and myself are here to facilitate that this is possible, making sure it goes down safely, maintaining the equipment, taking care of the navigation, the various systems of the boat, and the finances and the logistics - but sailing the boat and keeping a constant lookout, preparing departures and assisting the navigation, while having the boat functional for people to live on, that is up to our crew. And so, the greatest struggle of this voyage - maybe apart from sailing through a couple of storms - has been for me, as a healthy young person, to convince the next crewmember considering him- or herself a sick person, to not let this stand in their way of that daily duty. Basically, as we wanted to change someone’s perception of their Multiple Sclerosis, we were challenging what people themselves thought they were capable of.

Seeing the happiness of a fellow crewmember, realizing that their part in the crew is needed, is something near fantastic. When everyone is needed, but with the room to take a step back and rest when necessary, it makes people grow without worrying that they will disappoint the rest of us. And therein lay the challenge of determining when a crewmember actually needed a rest, or when they thought they needed one – after all we were out to push the boundaries of what is possible when you have Multiple Sclerosis.

From the exotic islands of the Galapagos, 3200 nautical miles on the open sea west towards Nuku Hiva in the Marquesas-archipelago of French Polynesia - the longest leg of the entire circumnavigation and so, upon completing, another victory for Sailing Sclerosis and Oceans of Hope. We were no longer a brand new organisation still putting together our circumnavigation - we were now a team, very aware of each other’s strengths and abilities. I won’t lie, it never came to the point, where things got to be easy - but at this point we knew exactly what we were doing! If that is even possible, in a project where you change location, crew, currency, language, climate, or any other changeable condition more often than you would socks. (On land that is, I never wore socks in the past 5 months).

Around the French Polynesia and further on over the largest ocean in the world to the Samoa Islands with more new adventurous sailors living with the chronic disease, making the hardship of living on a confined area and dealing with the extreme heat of the equatorial environment everyone’s challenge. Simply making a joy of the everyday life with up to nine other strangers from various age groups and cultures is a challenge worth acknowledging in any setting - but on a 20 meter sailboat in the middle of the ocean, spiced up with a bit of MS, that counts somewhat more in my book. At least double..

No matter which crew, we often saw similar patterns of people re-capturing their identity. Being on a boat where most on board share the same disease, or for those of us who didn’t have MS, worked with it everyday, had some obvious positive effects. Instead of being defined by having MS, with everybody knowing what MS is all about, living on Oceans of Hope has allowed many crewmembers to emphasize their personal strengths rather than the weaknesses brought on by symptoms of MS.

Back to civilisation
The weather got colder a lot quicker than anticipated as we turned left and headed south from Tonga towards Auckland in New Zealand. Coming back to western society was probably a bigger shock than it was leaving it. Standing in the shower in the Royal New Zealand Yacht Squadron in early May I counted back, and realized that it wasn’t since leaving Florida four months earlier, I had had my last hot shower. Still waiting for the next one.

Many appreciative handshakes and pads on our young shoulders in New Zealand before we embarked on what turned out to be the roughest leg on our way around the world. Until then we had merely had a peek at the forces of mother nature, but here we were tested once and for all. Physically, mentally and socially we were put to the test as the team was stretched while the waves grew higher with the increasing winds. We topped at 56 knots and 9-10 meter waves as we neared Sydney, but as before: the greater the challenge, the greater the victory as we succeeded. If it was easy everyone would be doing it!

Australia was another great chapter of our circumnavigation with a number of beautiful days of sailing with local people with MS in different ports on the east coast. Throughout our sail around the world, as we stopped in major cities, our Taster Sails would require lots of planning, effort and time to let our precious yacht allow the locals of maybe Lisbon, New York, Auckland or Cairns to get a taste of the salty life onboard the orange torch of Hope. Seldom has time been spent so well. As we met yet another group of nervous, excited, anxious, or happy patients with MS, over and over again I would be confirmed that this was so downright good that it brought a tear to my eye many times. Knowing that the people we had out sailing for just a day or a even couple of hours had been following us on our way to their hometown, and that they had such faith and trust in our persons and our crew, was sometimes unbearably beautiful. In the acts of steering the Oceans of Hope, helping pull up her sails or standing out in the bow, the people with MS that were with us on that day could be convinced, that here there were no patients. My biggest fear about disembarking this project is where I will ever find the opportunity do so much good with something that at the same time gives me so much joy.

Thanks to Mikkel
The inspiration and motivation brought by our crewmembers from around the world have been nothing but incredible, and for every new crew there have been different beacons of inspiration. We happen to be taking a sailboat around the world to change the perceptions of MS, but aside from changing my own and countless others’ perceptions of this disease, perceptions of what it means to engage in a society, to need others and to be needed - all things that make us belong - have found new meaning. Amongst many inspiring personalities in this adventure one stands out; Mikkel, our leader, founder and first of all friend, who I have to credit for a number of the lines in this blog. But like he has said himself from the beginning: The idea of this project is not new to the world, everyone can see it is the right thing to do. It just happened to come out of Mikkel’s mouth first. So a big personal thanks to Mikkel for asking me to be a part of this beautiful adventure.

Goodbye
As we left Australia just over a week ago sailing to Singapore, we embarked on what will be my last leg with Oceans of Hope. In Singapore I will help Kristian take the yacht apart to ready her for the transport over the Indian Ocean to the Mediterranean, but when I fly home from there, it will no longer be as the bosun of the S/Y Oceans of Hope. As of September I will start university in Copenhagen, and start a new chapter of my life, as Oceans of Hope continues on her circumnavigation. For good or for worse this is both my first and my last blog, my opportunity to appreciate all the unique moments with the friends I had a chance to make on the journey, and my opportunity to say thank you and goodbye.

When I disembark and hop on an airplane flying home it will be knowing that I have learned more about myself and the world we live in than I could have anywhere else in the past year and a half.

See you in Barcelona!