Relationship Strain: The End of the Affair
01-05-04
“There are holes in the sky where the rain gets in.”
A family afloat, not having the greatest time on their sailboat adventure!
In an earlier section, I wrote about the strain that life afloat can place on relationships. The pressure cooker of small spaces, constant motion, and too much shared oxygen. Back then, I approached from the viewpoint that most storms could be weathered with patience, humour, and the occasional stiff drink. But sometimes, they can’t. Sometimes the cracks aren’t just in the gelcoat, they’re in the very fabric of the hull. And when that happens, no amount of epoxy, compromise, or positive thinking will keep the dream afloat. This is about what happens when love, and the adventure it built, finally hits the rocks.
Like relationships, every adventure starts with fireworks. The first few weeks are intoxicating: new horizons, new friends, the thrill of motion and discovery. But sooner or later, reality staggers onboard like an uninvited guest screaming obscenities. The romance of the dream rubs up against the cost of living it. Paradise, has a habit of turning into purgatory when you’re broke, broken down, knackered.. or a toxic combination of everything.
Sooner or later, reality staggers onboard like an uninvited guest screaming obscenities.
There’s no getting around the fact that boats are small and cramped. And as charming as those gin-and-tonic sunsets look on Instagram, they’re no fun after a day-long row about how you botched the anchoring to watch the damned thing in the first place.
You can’t storm out when the only exit is a long swim in the dark. You can’t go for a walk to cool off. And if you’re both onboard 24/7 with no space to be alone, it’s only a matter of time before the dream starts to feel like a hostage situation.
Edward Lear once wrote about a group of wide-eyed optimists who “went to sea in a sieve.” It was a nonsense poem of course, but most couples set off under the same delusion, that love, duct tape, and ‘The Dream’ will hold it all together. For a while, they do. Then reality leaks in, slow and cold, through all the little holes no one wanted to admit were there.
Love in a Shoebox
Cruising magnifies whatever’s going on in your relationship. If you’re strong, it’ll make you stronger. If there are cracks, they’ll widen with every minor irritation. One partner may love the life; the other may quietly fantasise about a fixed address, a proper bed, and a toilet that doesn’t require a hand pump and regular servicing.
Paradise, has a habit of turning into purgatory when you’re broke, broken down, knackered.. or a toxic combination of everything.
The Drift
So, in the end, boats don’t usually sink, they just stop moving. No explosion, no storm, no grand disaster. Just the quiet hiss of a fender against a pontoon and the engine cooling for the last time.
One day you’re checking weather windows and passage planning together; the next, you’re individually scrolling flights home and wondering how to tell the kids. Though, to be fair, the kids have probably worked it out with their uncanny knack for sniffing martial tension. The truth is, not every adventure has a tidy ending, and not every relationship survives the challenges of such a demanding lifestyle.
The rot rarely announces itself. The logbook goes untouched, the sails stay bagged, and every “where next?” turns into “why next?” You start anchoring closer and closer to marinas just for a few days, and that one-month stopover quietly stretches into three. Then you’ve missed the weather window, hunkered down for the hurricane season or the winter, and begun wondering why you live on a boat at all.
One day you’re checking weather windows, the next, you’re scrolling flights home and wondering how to tell the kids.
There’s no screaming, no thrown frying pans. Just a dull acceptance that you’ve both reached the end of journey. One of you books a flight home. The other stays to ‘sell the boat’, pretending it’s a “temporary break” when it’s probably denial. And maybe it is. But maybe it’s the final entry in your collective logbook that’s been a little dog-eared for too long anyway.
The hardest part isn’t the breakup itself, but the grief that follows, not just for the person, but for the life you built together. The morning swims, the lazy sundowners, the sense of purpose that came from years of planning and chasing the same horizon together.
Reef Early, Reef Often
But letting go isn’t always failure; it’s just good seamanship. The sea teaches you resilience, but it also teaches you to know when to reef early, when to turn back, and when to admit that forcing things beyond their limits will only break them. Some voyages simply aren’t meant to reach their final destination.
So what can you do when the dream starts to crack? Talk early, not after the rot sets in. Get off the boat once in a while. Take a week apart if you can, breathe different air, see what life feels like without the constant motion. Don’t cling to the dream just out of sheer bloody mindedness. It’s just a phase of life after all, not a life sentence.
There’s no screaming, no thrown frying pans. Just a dull acceptance that you’ve both reached the end of journey.
The Harbour at Last
The sea doesn’t care about your plans, your principles, or your feelings. It’s the world’s most effective lie detector. It can strip you down until there’s nothing left but naked truth and is unforgiving and unrelenting when it comes to pretence.
Endings aren’t failures; they’re just course corrections. The voyage was never really about escape. It was about finding out who you are when there’s nowhere left to hide.
So, if it does end, end it well. Don’t let a knackered relationship taint the adventure that came before it. Honour it. Laugh about it if you can. Because even if it ended badly, you still lived on your own terms, at least for a while. You chased sunsets most people only see on screens and learnt the true cost of freedom.
The only real danger is slipping back into old habits. So, keep choosing, keep steering, keep living intentionally. Because truth and meaning are still out there, you probably just haven’t found yours yet.
Keep choosing, keep steering, keep living intentionally - truth and meaning are still out there - you probably just haven’t found yours yet
Logbook, Final Entry
Here ends the voyage under calm skies. Wounds healing. Lessons Learned under heavy weather. Vessel damaged but still afloat.
If you want more straight-talking tales from life afloat, and information about how relationship breakdown can lead to the end of the cruising dream, then you’ll love our upcoming book. We're inviting early readers to join the pre-launch crew and get behind-the-scenes access as we wrestle it into shape. It’s honest, unfiltered, and occasionally useful. Sign up here to get involved, give feedback, and be part of something that’ll either be a bestseller or a brilliant cautionary tale.
