Most people who want to get into yachting are sold a fantasy — turquoise water, superyachts, tips, travel. I'm not going to sell you that. I've done twelve years of it and I owe you the truth instead.
Read all of this. If it puts you off — good. Far better to find out now, on a webpage, than six months in with a one-way ticket you can't afford to change. And if you read every word and still think yes, that's exactly what I want — then you're the person this industry actually needs, and everything else on this site exists to get you hired and keep you there.
I'm not going to sell you the fantasy. I've done twelve years of it and I owe you the truth instead.
The honest way, not the brochure
I flew to Antibes with almost no money and barely any experience of being on a boat at all. I dockwalked for two weeks — turning up at boats on foot, asking for work — and emailed every agency I could find. Eventually a random 35-metre came up wanting a deckhand. I took it on the spot, because when you're green and broke you take the first thing that says yes.
That's not bad luck. That's just how it works. The market's competitive, you have no leverage, and you jump on whatever you can get. A lot of advice online tells you to carefully pick a good first boat. That's a luxury you probably won't have.
Your first boat is about getting on and getting through — not getting it perfect.
Mine was a nightmare, and yours might be too
The captain was 30, on a 35-metre, first command, and he thought he was a big dog. Enormous ego, no patience, and a serious temper — he'd lose it ten times a day, at the girls and at me especially. I joined with zero instruction. Nobody showed me how to wash the boat or work a chamois; I was expected to just know, and it took me weeks of getting it wrong to figure it out on my own.
It got worse than a temper. No days off, even when we clearly could have taken them. No such thing as hours of rest — regularly 18 to 20 hour days, sleep four or five hours, do it again. He wouldn't let us use the car or get off the boat. It was, honestly, traumatic. And I did two years of it.
I'm not telling you this to scare you off. I'm telling you because it's common and nobody warns you. Here's what I know now that I didn't know then:
Hours of rest aren't optional — they're a legal right under MLC.
The Maritime Labour Convention is the international rulebook that protects seafarers. I didn't know that. You do now.
A young captain on his first command can be a red flag, not a green one.
Big title, small experience, big ego. Size and prestige tell you nothing about whether a boat is well run.
No instruction is normal, and it isn't your fault.
You'll flail for weeks. That feeling of being lost at the start is the job, not you failing.
This is the gap the Deckhand Foundation course closes.
A big title on a small boat with a big ego is a red flag, not a green one.
What good actually looks like
That first boat nearly finished me. I took six months off, did courses, and seriously considered never going back — there was real damage in it. What got me back on the water was crossing the Atlantic on a sailboat chasing Yachtmaster miles, then flying to Palma and finding a 50-metre after a deckhand.
That boat changed everything. The captain and heads of department respected hours of rest and did their honest best to hold to them even when the season made it hard. Everyone respected the hierarchy. We complied with MLC and everything else we were meant to. And the captain was a genuinely decent man with an open door — you could talk to him whenever you needed. I did two years there and only left for career reasons. It gave me back my appreciation for what this job can be under good leadership.
What a good boat actually looks like
- Hours of rest and MLC respected — even when the season makes it hard
- A real budget for crew
- A culture where crew treat each other with genuine kindness
- Alcohol doesn't drive every decision on board
- People have interests and a life outside the boat
That last one's a quiet tell most people miss. Crew with hobbies and an outside life are usually on a boat that lets them have one.
Get through it, then move
Here's the honest strategy, and it's the opposite of "hold out for the perfect boat":
Take the boat. Get through the first season, even if it's grim. Build a buffer of savings and some longevity on your CV. Then move when a better opportunity comes — and there's always a better opportunity, and always more boats.
A rough first boat isn't a catastrophe. It's a survivable stepping stone. By the time you've done your season you'll have a network, you'll have learned which boats are good and which are bad, and you'll be choosing from strength instead of desperation.
There's exactly one hard line in all of this:
Your mental health is not worth destroying for any vessel. Everything else is "push through". That one isn't.
If a boat is genuinely breaking you, get off it — buffer or no buffer. Knowing the difference between "this is hard" and "this is harming me" is the most important judgment you'll ever develop in this job.
How to read a captain in the interview
Once your first boat's behind you and you're interviewing for the next, you've got leverage — use it. You're not just being interviewed, you're reading them.
0 of 6 — tick them off as you plan your questions.
Bigger boats tend to have more organisational process behind them, and that's positively correlated with being well run — but size alone proves nothing. One bad head of department can wreck a good boat no matter how big or organised it is. Read the people, not the metreage.
Choose with your eyes open
Not all yachting jobs are the same life, and this is a real choice you can make.
Single-season boats
Often sit in one place for half the year in the off-season. Quieter shoulder periods, more regular workdays, time to hit the gym, keep hobbies, actually have a life after work.
Big dual-season boats
Run you hard: Med season, a short shipyard period, cross the Atlantic, Caribbean season, cross back, and snatch your leave in the gaps. Big money, big travel, very little time. If you're up for it, it's brilliant. If you're not, it'll grind you down.
Neither's better. But know which one you're signing up for.
What nobody puts on Instagram
You come for the travel, and it does deliver travel — but a lot of people get disillusioned, because it's genuinely hard graft and you see a lot of the world through the porthole rather than from ashore. You don't get off as often as you imagine, and it depends entirely on the boat.
You live tight-knit with people. There'll be cultures and personalities you don't gel with, and some crew you just plain don't like. It's hard to get space — to have a phone call home, or just be alone for an hour. And even a fully compliant, well-run boat is hard: the seasons are brutal, days off are few, and you'll sometimes go past your hours of rest.
Good does not mean easy. Compliant does not mean cushy. Don't expect an easy life — expect a life worth the work.
So why did I stay?
Because on a good boat, the crew become family — and that's not a cliché, it's the actual thing that turned it around for me. Twelve years in, I've seen the most beautiful places on earth and had the time of my life. I wouldn't go and work in an office if you paid me. I wouldn't trade any of it.
And here's the part that matters most for your future — captain to future-crew:
This industry can fund the rest of your life — if you're disciplined enough not to blow it.
You've got almost no running expenses on board. Depending on where you're resident and the currency arbitrage that comes with it, you can save a serious lump sum and build something real off the back of these years. But only if you don't do what most yachties do — blow it all on designer gear, spending like you're on par with the owner when you're really not. The money goes fast these days. The ones who get somewhere are the ones who bank it and build.
Now be honest with yourself
That's the truth, all of it. Six questions. No wrong answers.
- 01
Can you take being shouted at and corrected without sulking, at least while you find your feet?
- 02
Can you go weeks without a proper day off during a season?
- 03
Can you live and sleep in close quarters with people you didn't choose?
- 04
Can you save money instead of spending it the moment it lands?
- 05
Are you doing this for the work and the life it can build — not just the travel photos?
- 06
If a boat started genuinely harming your health, could you walk away from it?
Answer all six. Be honest — nobody sees this but you.
If you've read every hard word of this and you're still thinking yes — you already have the one thing that actually matters: you're going in with your eyes open. Do that, and you'll be fine.
Here's where to start →Certificates, the runway, the CV, and how to actually get in front of a boat.