Hello, and welcome to The Distant Horizon Project!
If you’re here, you’ve probably felt that familiar pull. It’s that distant, unreachable feeling you get when you see a sailboat glide effortlessly across the water. It’s a mix of longing, excitement, and the question: Could I actually do that?
For me, that pull isn’t new. It’s a deferred dream—a piece of my identity I left behind decades ago.
The Longing from Pico
I grew up on Pico Island in the Azores, Portugal. The Atlantic was not a vacation spot; it was our backdrop. I had a brief, tantalizing taste of the action at age 15, working as a helper instructor at a local sailing club. I sailed a small dinghy three or four times. That’s the extent of my official experience.
But every day, I watched. I saw the great cruising yachts stopping in our harbor while on their Atlantic crossings. To me, they were mythical vessels, reserved only for two types of people: the ultra-rich, or those living completely off-grid. I thought that life was simply inaccessible to someone like me.
Life then took the conventional, practical route: University in Lisbon, a career as a Software Developer, and two decades spent in the heart of the UK, in London. I built a stable, successful life, trading the wide horizon for the glow of a computer screen.
The Second Act: Trading Code for the Compass
Now, as I approach 48 and get closer to retirement, my priorities have profoundly shifted. The question is no longer can I? but why haven’t I? I’m done watching those boats glide by.
The distant horizon isn’t just for others. It’s for me, and my partner. This is the time for our second act. We are planning to trade the terminal for the tiller and the London life for a life cruising the Mediterranean—and I need to learn how to be the skipper who gets us there.
The Mission of The Distant Horizon Project
This blog is not about perfection. It’s not a travel guide from an expert. It is, quite simply, the logbook of a learner.
My overarching goal is to earn the knowledge, certifications, and confidence necessary to safely captain a cruising sailboat—to be able to take a boat out on my own, navigate, and handle whatever the sea throws at me.
This is a project because it will be structured, goal-oriented, and a massive undertaking, especially as a successful professional making a major pivot late in my career. I will be documenting:
- The Mistakes and Failures: The humiliating moments, the times the jargon is overwhelming, and the inevitable errors I make on the water.
- The Learning Curve: Detailed reviews of courses, step-by-step skill progression, and simple explanations of complex concepts—all seen through the eyes of a software developer approaching a whole new system.
- The Retirement Transition: Honest accounts of budgeting for the Med dream, choosing our first boat, and planning a cruising retirement alongside my partner.
My hope is that if you’re a successful professional looking for a massive change, or a beginner watching the boats go by, this blog gives you the nudge you need to jump in with me.
Where We Start: The Immediate Next Step
My background as a Software Developer means I approach every major project with research and a structured plan. I’m not jumping onto the first boat I see; I’m building a strong foundation first.
The immediate next step in The Distant Horizon Project is not getting wet, but getting organized:
- Analysis: Is an RYA (Royal Yachting Association) membership worth the immediate investment?
- Training: I am enrolling in the RYA Essential Navigation and Seamanship Course online.
- Logistics: I’m scouting sailing clubs close to London to find the right environment for practical training later this year.
The distant horizon awaits, but we start with a solid plan.
What was the crazy dream you had to conquer a skill or fear? Drop a comment below and tell me what the “Distant Horizon” looks like for you!
The Distant Horizon Project 