Author: Erica Lay

With Courtesy of Erica Lay & The Mallorca Bulletin. #25/1121.

Erica Lay is owner of EL CREW International Yacht Crew Agency http://www.elcrewco.com/ erica@elcrewco.com.

By Erica Lay

06:00 – Wakey Wakey (Espresso Optional, But Advised)

Wake up before the alarm, thanks to the noise of someone clinking around the pantry and the realisation I never responded to the guest’s 11:47pm request for bespoke peppermint foot soak. Chief Stew brain never sleeps. Pop a Nespresso and mentally start the to-do list.

06:45 – Briefing Blitz

Quick huddle with the interior team. Today we’re doing light brunch on the sundeck, a beach picnic, afternoon tea (American guest is ‘really into scones right now’), and a surprise birthday dinner with a Gatsby theme. Sure. Easy. I hand out task lists like Oprah hands out cars and power-smile through the blank stares.

07:30 – Inventory Chaos

Inventory check: we have 14 types of champagne but only two matching flutes. Where are the others? Third Stew looks red faced and shifty. Hmm. Send her out to look for a replacement set, and my will to live. Note to self: order more candle refills, lavender pillow spray, and diplomacy.

09:00 – Styling with Rage

Start flower arranging. Someone requested “just a simple centrepiece.” I’ve now dismantled three bouquets and turned the pantry into a floristry crime scene. There is floral foam on the ceiling. I do not know how. Meanwhile, I’m radioing the deck team to ask them to please not blast the pressure washer next to my tablescape.

10:00 – Brunch & Blagging

Third Stew returns with ikea flutes. Better than nothing. Still no sign of my will to live. Guests up. Brunch is served with smiles, small talk, and casual lies about where the honey came from. (No, it’s not harvested by monks on a mountain, but it sounded better than “Carrefour aisle five.”)

13:00 – Beach Picnic Mayhem

The beach set-up is looking Pinterest-perfect until a gust of wind yeets the linen napkins into the sea. One stew is chasing them down the beach like a madwoman while I try to locate the guests’ artisanal olive tapenade. Chef forgot it. Chef blames me. I smile sweetly and plot revenge.

14:00 – Laundry. Forever.

Somewhere between the 17 kaftans and the satin party shirts, I briefly forget my own name. Also: who needs this many outfit changes before 3pm?

15:00 – Tea with a Side of Tears

Afternoon tea prep. Second stew overwhips the cream. We’ll call it clotted. Decky radios to inform us the guests are running ten minutes late, then arrives ten minutes early on the tender. Deliver a convincing performance that the lumpy cream is clotted, and a Cornish delicacy, whilst the second stew stealthily hides the wrappers of the emergency supermarket scones as Chef hasn’t had time to whip those up in addition to the brunch, picnic, crew food, and prep for the extravagant themed dinner this eve. Successful blag: guests lap it all up.

16:00 – Costume Drama

The Gatsby dinner set up begins. Junior stew is crying in the crew mess because she shrunk her costume in the drier. I glue a feather to my headband and decide I’m now the entertainment.

19:30 – Dinner & Diplomacy

Serving scallops and smiles while discreetly re-filling wine glasses and defusing an argument over who owns Croatia. Someone knocks over three champagne flutes in quick succession. I don’t react. I simply catch the last one mid-air, place it upright, and continue as if I’m in the final round of Chief Stew Ninja Warrior. One guest applauds. I bow.

21:00 – Dessert Meltdown

Someone wants “just fruit” while the rest want flambéed bananas. Neither of which are on the menu. Chef obviously thrilled. Fire and fruit salad it is. Crew are thrilled however, we get to eat the vanilla bean soufflé with saffron pear compote and a side of chef’s soul. Meanwhile, I’m texting the night stew a full rundown and a warning about the guest who likes to request hot chocolate at 2am and talk about cryptocurrency.

23:00 – Finally, Sort Of

Quick tidy up, reset for breakfast, quick scream in the laundry room. Steal one of the fancy truffles from the guest fridge. Nearly break a leg slipping on a rogue grape. Climb into bunk, mentally rearranging the whole crew rota for tomorrow because the junior just said she “might be coming down with something.”

00:00 – Bedtime Brainstorm

Finally lie down. Remember I forgot to reply to the management company email. Panic. Stare at ceiling. Consider replacing all champagne flutes with mason jars and being done with it. Drift off plotting tomorrow’s tablescape and wondering if I could make napkin rings out of sea urchins and passive aggression.

With Courtesy of Erica Lay & The Mallorca Bulletin. #25/1120.

Erica Lay is owner of EL CREW International Yacht Crew Agency http://www.elcrewco.com/ erica@elcrewco.com.

By Erica Lay

05:30 – Rise and Brine

Up before the guests, before the sun, and definitely before any sane human should be handling knives. The head chef is already in the galley, whispering lovingly to the hand-dived scallops like they’re old friends. I tiptoe in behind them to prep crew breakfast, hoping the eggs can’t sense my caffeine deficiency.

06:30 – Feeding the Masses (Crew Edition)

Toast. Eggs. Granola. Yogurts. Milks. Crumpets. Croissants. Smoothies. Someone’s trying to go keto, someone else is claiming dairy intolerance (why are they eating a yogurt?), and one deckhand wants “just something beige.” Someone asks for the granola to be “less crunchy”. I tip it into a blender in front of them, whizz, and remove, maintaining eye contact throughout. I do my best. I love them. But also, I hate them.

08:00 – Guest Breakfast Backup

The head chef barks a request for more hollandaise. I plate and polish like I’m auditioning for a Michelin star. A stew whisks the plate away like it’s a relay race. I return to the crew fridge to find someone’s eaten the fruit I chopped for lunch. I label a container “DO NOT EAT” and it disappears in under ten minutes. Then I find a rogue spoon in the fridge and spend 45 seconds having an existential crisis about who is doing this to me. Revenge is a dish best served with laxatives. (Kidding. Probably.)

10:30 – Crew Lunch Prepping

Now we’re deep into miso glaze and couscous debates. I’m trying to keep the galley tidy while making four versions of the same meal to suit every dietary persuasion. One engineer has a nut allergy, the third stew is vegan except on Fridays, and the deck crew eat like they’re all training for a Strongman contest. Find myself whispering to a pan of quinoa like it’s a therapy session. Quinoa tells me I’m doing a great job. Wonder if I’ve had too much caffeine.

12:00 – Guest Lunch Assist

I get drafted in to finish garnishes for the beach picnic. Micro herbs and edible flowers are applied with tweezers while we bounce through a two metre swell. I haven’t sat down since 06:00 and my blood type is now coffee.

13:00 – Crew Lunch Rush

It’s crew lunchtime. I plate up 15 portions and hope for silence. Instead, I get four comments, three complaints, and one marriage proposal (from the bosun, again). I eat my lunch crouched near the dry stores. With my hands. It’s peaceful there.

14:00 – Hiding from Crew

Despite locking myself in the dry store, a decky finds me to ask if I “have time to make something special” for their afternoon tea. Yes, just let me cancel my one chance to pee today and get right on that.

15:30 – Clean Up & Prep Round Three

Wash everything. Scrub everything. Curse the engineer who leaves Nutella-coated knives in the sink. Start prep for crew dinner while humming sea shanties and considering a career in accounting.

17:00 – Surprise Guest Canapé Duty

Head chef needs an extra set of hands to roll 50 sushi pieces for sundowners. Suddenly I’m back on the line, hands flying. I ask for a blowtorch. I get a blowtorch. I wield it like a flamethrower in a Michelin war zone.

18:30 – Crew Dinner Mayhem

I slap down trays of hot food for a crew who are 50% starving and 50% grumpy. A stew asks if I’ve got anything “lighter.” I resist the urge to launch a baked potato at her. Instead, I hand her a lettuce leaf and walk away, pointing at the three different salads on the counter as I head to the walk in fridge for my daily cry.

20:00 – Guest Dessert Support

Back to plating petit fours like a sugared Picasso. Chocolate fingerprints on my whites. A single tear may or may not fall into the creme brûlée.

21:30 – The Final Clean

Wipe. Scrub. Sanitize. Reorganise. Cry again in the walk-in fridge. Eat one of the leftover brownies. Eat two. Hide a third for later. Get caught by the bosun. Share the third with him.

23:00 – Collapse and Reflect

Lights out. My feet are swollen, my back is screaming, and my apron smells like every cheese we have on board. But the crew are fed, the chef is happy, and I didn’t set fire to anything. Reflect upon what was actually a really good day. 

With Courtesy of Erica Lay & The Mallorca Bulletin. #25/1113. Erica Lay is owner of EL CREW International Yacht Crew Agency http://www.elcrewco.com/ erica@elcrewco.com

Forget haunted houses… Mallorca’s got ghost ships, phantom bells, and sirens who’d rather sink you than sing for you.

Halloween is mostly about dodgy outfits (Oh, you were Wednesday Addams this year? Original…), harassing old people into giving your kids too much candy, and pretending pumpkin spice doesn’t taste like melted plastic mixed with cinnamon. But while landlubbers busily fuss with skeletons in their closets, sailors have been swapping stories of ships crewed by the dead for centuries. The sea has always been a perfect breeding ground for nightmares: it’s dark, mysterious, and its depths hold more monsters and mythical beasts than a Stephen King novel. So let’s look at some of the tales from the deep, including a couple from our very own Mallorca. Yes, she has a few skeletons in her anchor locker too.

The Famous Ones

The Flying Dutchman: Ghost Ship Royalty

We can’t talk spooky ghost ships without dropping the OG. Think of it as the Kardashians of cursed ships. Captain van der Decken swore he’d round the Cape of Good Hope “if it takes me until Doomsday.” Doomsday said: challenge accepted, Captain Sinky McSinkson. Now, his glowing ghost ship drifts around forever like that one charter guest who just won’t go to bed. Even King George V claimed he saw it in 1881. Imagine being haunted by a ship that exists purely because a Dutch bloke wouldn’t admit defeat. Bet he ignored his wife when she asked him to stop and ask directions.

Mary Celeste: The Original “Where’s Everyone Gone?”

Then there’s the Mary Celeste, the gold standard of “mystery at sea.” Found adrift near the Azores in 1872, she had everything on board; cargo, supplies, lunch still on the table, but no crew. Vanished. Poof. Theories? Mutiny, pirates, giant squid, alien abduction, exploding booze barrels. Basically, the ocean’s longest-running episode of CSI: Maritime Edition.

Now we’ve got those out the way, let’s talk about local lore…

Creepy Local Legends: Because Mallorca’s Too Pretty to Be Innocent

Mallorca looks like turquoise-watered paradise, but dig a little deeper and you’ll find some stories that could make even Magalluf look wholesome.

The Ghostly Galleys of Cabrera

Fishermen whisper about phantom warships gliding silently around Cabrera at night, supposedly the spirits of French soldiers left to rot there after the Napoleonic wars (again, probs too proud to ask for directions). Cabrera: great for snorkelling, also great for eternal damnation.

The Bells Beneath Palma Bay

Old Mallorcan grandmothers (the same ones who will hip-check you out of a supermarket queue whilst smiling sweetly) used to say you could hear drowned church bells ringing from beneath the sea on still nights. Realistically, it’s probably one of the marina fuel pumps choking again, but hey – spooky sells.

The Sirens of Sa Dragonera

Because of course we’ve got sirens. Supposedly, they still sing near the Dragonera islet, luring fishermen with their voices. Nowadays, you’re more likely to be lured in by a menu del dia at Port d’Andratx, but the effect is roughly the same: you lose all your money and possibly your dignity. Also: probably just goats.

Let’s move on. Why were sailors always so superstitious?

Maritime Madness: Beliefs That Aged About as Well as Warm Fish

Long before every boat had Starlink and streamed Netflix 24/7, sailors entertained themselves with terror.

St. Elmo’s Fire: Glowing blue flames on masts during storms. Sailors thought it was God’s wrath. Science says static electricity. Either way: pants ruined.

Davy Jones’ Locker: Once a terrifying watery grave. Now shorthand for where your missing flip-flop went.

Bad Luck Names: No sailing on Fridays, no whistling, and if you’re named Jonah… sorry babe, you’re benched.

Are Yachts Haunted Too?

Classic yachts creak and moan more than your uncle on the dancefloor. One chef swore their bilge had a resident ghost: footsteps, slamming doors, tools “moving themselves.” Skeptics say poor insulation. Believers just nope out and head to the bar.

Final Toast to the Ghosts

So during spooky season, when Palma is crawling with children in glow-in-the-dark skeleton onesies and adults dressed as the Ibiza Final Boss, remember: the real ghosts are still out at sea, whining, wailing and wondering why they don’t get any plastic pumpkins full of Haribo.

And if you’re anchored off Dragonera and hear singing? Don’t panic. It’s either sirens… or a yacht owner, three gins deep, murdering “My Heart Will Go On” at karaoke.

Keep it creepy, Mallorca. And remember: if a phantom schooner slides past your stern tonight… don’t wave. Ghosts hate try-hards.

With Courtesy of Erica Lay & The Mallorca Bulletin. #25/1103.

Erica Lay is owner of EL CREW International Yacht Crew Agency http://www.elcrewco.com/ erica@elcrewco.com

Introduction – The Other Half of the Story

If you’ve ever wondered what keeps a yacht gleaming from bow to stern, it’s not just the polish — it’s the people behind the polish. Following the viral Day in the Life: Diary of a Stewardess, Erica Lay returns with a deckhand’s perspective: the saltier, wetter, and slightly more existential side of yachting life.

It’s a reminder that beneath every sunset photo and champagne flute lies a daily choreography of labour, humour, and quiet heroism — the unfiltered truth of life at sea.

06:30 – The Calm Before the Rinse

Woken by the dulcet tones of my alarm squawking at me and the subtle aroma of sweaty shirts from the laundry bag I forgot to take to the laundry room last night before passing out. My uniform polo has mysteriously shrunk overnight (again). Not sure whether to blame the stews (risky) or accept the fact that the chef’s food is just too good. Head up to the main deck and grab my bucket, brush, squeegee and dignity. Because today is washdown day. Again.

07:15 – Saltwater and Existential Crises

Start at the bow. Salt everywhere. Did the Mediterranean vomit all over us last night? Blast it all off while trying not to spray my own legs. Fail. The bosun walks past with a nod. That’s as close to affection as I’ll get this week. Make a mad dash down to the crew mess for a shot of coffee and see if I left my will to live down there. Spill it all over my shirt. Chef laughs at me and offers me a cookie. Eagerly accept.

08:00 – The Guest Slippers Are Missing

Stew panic on the radio. Guest slippers: vanished. This is code red. I briefly consider abandoning my post to help search, then remember I have 34 more metres of teak to scrub and a nervous breakdown scheduled for 10:45.

09:30 – The Guest Wants to Paddleboard

Guests are appearing on deck after their breakfast. We break out the toys. Inflate the paddleboard. Deflate the paddleboard because they meant the other paddleboard. Reinflate original paddleboard as no, no, they got confused. Fetch paddle, leash, and look for dignity (again).

10:15 – Tender Tantrums

Take another guest ashore in the tender. Smile like it’s not my third round trip in 30 minutes. Get back just in time to be asked to “make it sparkle” for the fourth time today. Resisting the urge to ask if I should bedazzle it.

12:00 – Lunch (Allegedly)

Shovel down crew curry like I’m training for a competitive eating contest. Almost get to sit down before someone radios in that the jet ski is “making a weird noise.” Could be the guest. Could be the jet ski. Either way, it’s my problem now.

13:00 – Jet Ski Crisis

Spend 20 minutes “diagnosing” a perfectly functional jet ski while the guest takes a nap. Wiggle a hose. Tap something authoritatively. Declare it fixed. They thank me like I’m Poseidon himself. Bosun nods approvingly at my deception.

14:00 – Cookie Reconnaissance

Pop down to the galley under the pretense of collecting napkins. Secure three cookies, a banana, and possibly a new lease on life. Chef raises an eyebrow. I salute him with a biscuit.

15:00 – Polishing War Zone

Back to stainless. Fingerprints as far as the eye can see. It’s like guests specifically grease up before touching handrails. If you’ve never wiped down 50 metres of chrome while contemplating your life choices, have you even been a deckhand?

16:00 – Emergency Power Nap

Sneak into the bosun’s locker. Pretend I’m reorganising line bags. Actually nap on a pile of chamois cloths for 12 glorious minutes. Wake up slightly damp, spiritually rejuvenated.

16:30 – Anchor Drama

Radio squawks: “Boss wants to reposition the yacht for a better view of the sunset.” This requires pulling the anchor up, moving 100 metres, and dropping it again. For the fifth time today. Guest satisfaction: 10/10. Crew patience: aggressively unavailable.

18:00 – Guest Drinks on the Bow

Work with the stews to set up beanbags, hurricane lanterns, cocktail tables and an entire Pinterest board of soft furnishings. Wind picks up. Lanterns blow over. Beanbags roll. Guest arrives and asks to sit on the sun deck instead. Swallow a scream. Relocate everything.

19:00 – Dinner Is Served, But Not to Me

Guests dining al fresco. I’m on standby with the tender. Mosquitoes feast on me while I try not to fall asleep.

22:00 – Turndown for What?

Guests head to bed. I sneak into the laundry room to iron my soul back into shape and fold yet another stack of Egyptian cotton beach towels that no one actually used.

23:00 – Finally Done (Sort Of)

Shower. Fall into bunk. Dream of salt, stainless, and a universe without fender scuffs.

Editor’s Note

This series continues our look at The Real Yacht Life — the side that doesn’t show up on the brochure. From the stew’s invisible service ballet to the deckhand’s sunburned endurance, these are the hands that keep the dream afloat.

With Courtesy of Erica Lay & The Mallorca Bulletin. #25/1101.

Erica Lay is owner of EL CREW International Yacht Crew Agency http://www.elcrewco.com/ erica@elcrewco.com

This week, Erica Lay — owner of EL CREW CO International Yacht Crew Agency and author of Superyacht Life: How to Start, Succeed, & Stay Sane — talks to Lauren Bennett, a talented young multitasking aspiring chef (who can also jump on deck or help inside) from Gibraltar.

Lauren’s made it through her first season in yachting and, despite a tumultuous start on a doozy of a yacht (and no, Erica absolutely didn’t place her there), she’s now looking for her next challenge. Brave girl.

For more info on any of our featured crew, contact Erica directly at erica@elcrewco.com.

You’re from Gibraltar — what first brought you to Mallorca?

I went to Mallorca with the first yacht I worked on in July 2025. I stayed a little while and applied for another job on another yacht which took me to Sardinia.

Pre-yachting life — paint us a picture.

I was halfway through my A-Levels (Art, History & Spanish) and decided it wasn’t for me. I wanted to start working on superyachts. I love cooking, love travelling and aspire to become a famous top chef, so I thought, why not start now and go for it?

I completed my Super Yacht Silver – STCW course in Gibraltar and applied to several positions. I was very lucky to land my first position in Spain as a chef/stew. Next year, I hope to attend Le Cordon Bleu Culinary School in Paris to further my passion for the culinary arts.

How did you first break into the industry — was it glamorous or a shock to the system?

Most certainly a shock. The first yacht I worked on was not pleasant. I was the only female crew member on board, working as both chef and stew. The hours were long and it was a lot to run my two departments solo.

There was a crew of three — me, a moody captain, and a drunken deckhand. I remember thinking, “Am I doing the right thing here?” I didn’t feel comfortable or safe, and I didn’t have anyone to talk to. Luckily my mum was always there — she kept me sane!

(Editor’s note: If crew ever find themselves in a situation like this, please know you’re not alone. Get somewhere safe and seek help — police, a trusted friend, agent, or another crew member. You can also reach out to Yacht Crew Help for confidential support.)

Proudest or most unforgettable moment onboard?

Proudest was when the owners and guests asked for seconds of my meals.

Unforgettable was when I was abandoned in the middle of Palma after the drunken deckhand left me at a bar. He was almost arrested for being violent and drunk. It was scary — hence why I left the yacht.

What made you continue in the industry after that baptism by fire — stubbornness, love of cooking, or sheer madness?

I didn’t want to be a quitter — I felt that would be failing. But after the bar incident, when I told the captain and he didn’t care, I knew it was best to leave.

What do you love most about galley life?

Seeing people’s faces when they love my food presentation and its rich flavours. Seeing land from the sea — a view you wouldn’t normally see. The best sunsets and sunrises ever. Meeting new people in amazing ports.

And what’s the toughest part (that guests will never know)?

How you must be in three places at once — it’s crazy.

Craziest or funniest guest request?

On the second yacht I worked on, the owner’s child wanted pasta all the time — breakfast, lunch and dinner. He was great, so funny and cute.

Who would you love to host on board?

Not really bothered, so long as they’re nice!

Dream yacht and dream destination — no budget limits.

Monaco. Love that place. Dubai too — I haven’t been yet. Hopefully soon the Caribbean will be possible.

What advice would you give your younger, greener self starting out?

Sleep as much as you can! Talk and communicate with your fellow workers. Don’t take things personally and smile. Life is beautiful — and so is yachting.

Five years from now — where are you?

A famous master chef on the top yachts or running my own Michelin-star restaurant. My dream is Miami for some reason — but that could change.

When you’re off-duty, how do you spend your downtime?

Sleeping — I love my sleep! I also really enjoy cooking for the family, going to the gym to stay active and destress, or travelling with my mum and younger brother. Family is everything.

Editor’s Note

Lauren’s story is a reminder that breaking into yachting isn’t always glamorous — but with resilience, humour, and the right mentors, young crew like her are shaping the industry’s next generation of talent.

Day in the Life: Diary of a Stewardess

With Courtesy of Erica Lay & The Mallorca Bulletin. #25/1103.

Erica Lay owner of EL CREW International Yacht Crew Agency http://www.elcrewco.com/ erica@elcrewco.com

06:00 – Rise and Regret

Bleary-eyed and already sweating. It’s going to be 34 degrees today and we’re anchored off Ibiza, which means the UV index is at skin-sizzling levels and the chief stew is already on her third espresso. I start my day with a silent prayer to the gods of lint rollers and linen spray.

07:00 – Breakfast Bingo

The guests want “something light.” Translation: seven kinds of fruit cut into exact geometrical shapes, almond croissants flown in from Paris, oat milk that we just realised expired last night (there’s only one brand they like and until today didn’t want it), and a cucumber sliced in a way that apparently only the former chef on that other boat knew how to do. Also Greek yogurt, some local honey “can you just go grab some from a farm shop or something?” (we’re at anchor), pancakes and bacon. And guess who’s got to tell the chef? Me. Yay.

08:30 – Laundry Round One

Eight towels, five bikinis, four kaftans, and one pair of board shorts with mysterious pink stains that I’m just going to ignore and toss into a delicates bag, all from one couple. The Miele washing machine beeps at me in German. I pretend not to understand and hit ‘Start’ anyway.

09:45 – Hydration Hysteria

Guests request eight still, six sparkling, four room-temp, two on ice, and one infused with chlorophyll and remorse waters. None will be drunk. Every single bottle will be left sweating on a table and then passive-aggressively complained about later.

10:30 – SPF and Stains

Clean the ridiculously shiny aft deck table. Again. I polished it before breakfast. Then I polished it after breakfast. I will polish it again in an hour. Every handprint is a personal insult. Every greasy paw mark from SPF 50+ is a battle scar. I could identify each guest by fingerprint at this point.

11:00 – Nap Ninja

Chief stew sends me for a power nap. Out cold in three seconds, achieve 29 glorious minutes of snoozle. I’m now better at sleeping to order than the military.

12:00 – Lunchtime Chaos

Salad for the ladies, three steaks for the lads. One child demands pasta shaped like dinosaurs. When informed that we have no dinosaur pasta, he cries. I cry internally. We agree on spaghetti but only if I arrange it like a volcano. I comply. Chef watches me get elbow deep in tomato sauce creating Mount Vesuvius, whilst filming it for his TikTok with a running commentary.

14:00 – Bedroom Ballet

Turndowns and towel swaps. I fluff pillows with military precision. I spritz lavender pillow mist like it’s holy water. I find a soggy sock under a guest’s mattress. I retrieve it with barbecue tongs and throw it into the angry Miele.

15:00 – Laundry Round Two

Someone’s used three towels to lie on for 15 minutes. They are now “wet” and must be washed. The chief stew just ironed 24 napkins that are unlikely to survive the first course.

16:00 – Stain & Blame

Emergency spot-clean of a wine spill in the salon. The culprit blames the “rough seas.” We haven’t so much as listed a millimetre in four hours. However, I smile and nod sympathetically.

17:30 – Sundowners & Shenanigans

Ten glasses polished. Ten more polished again because someone walked past and breathed near them. Tray service with mini crab cakes, which the guests say smell weird. They ordered them. Yesterday. And loved them. Chef laughs and puts them out for crew. They’re delicious. I’ve eaten seven.

19:00 – Dinner, Drama & Dress Codes

The theme is “Mediterranean chic.” The guests are all dressed up and we’ve changed into our evening uniforms which are not chic, or Mediterranean. The sun’s still screaming and we’re in black. Guests want five courses and want them fast so they can go ashore and go clubbing. Someone drops a knife. Someone else drops a glass. I drop the will to live. Face starting to ache from all the smiling. Sweat is gathering on my top lip like an unflattering moustache.

22:30 – Turndown Time

Remove chocolate wrappers from pillowcases. When did they have time to eat those? Straighten bedsheets like a hospital corner competition finalist. Remove mysterious bikini from the corridor. Don’t ask.

00:00 – Bedtime Breakdown

Lights out, handed over to night shift who will be waiting for the call to pick up drunk guests from shore in the tender in a few hours when they’re all Pacha’d out. Collapse into bunk. Consider joining a convent. Or a tattoo parlour. Or literally anywhere where no one ever says “I asked for Arctic meltwater and this tastes suspiciously Alpine?”

Repeat until charter ends or until you start answering the iron when it rings.

Diary of a Chief Officer: The Deck Daddy and Diplomacy Referee.

With Courtesy of Erica Lay & The Mallorca Bulletin. #25/1097.

Erica Lay owner of EL CREW International Yacht Crew Agency http://www.elcrewco.com/ erica@elcrewco.com

05:45 – Briefing & Bracing

Up before sunrise, armed with black coffee and a clipboard. I scan the day’s schedule, check the weather, and draft a mental apology for whatever the bosun’s about to do to my maintenance plan.

06:30 – The First Radio Call

The bosun’s already radioed twice—once for a missing deckie, once because a beanbag has exploded. I haven’t even made it to the bridge. I say “Copy that” in a tone that suggests I’m reconsidering every life choice I’ve ever made.

07:00 – Deck Walk & Damage Control

Walk the deck, spot three things no one reported, and one that was “definitely fixed yesterday.” Quietly fix one myself because it’s faster than paperwork. Consider whether it’s too early for ibuprofen.

08:00 – Meeting with the Captain

Update the Captain on logistics, crew morale, and whether our youngest deckhand is still learning knots from TikTok. Discuss the guest itinerary, rest hours, and the philosophical question of whether the AV system is ever truly working.

09:30 – HR Mediation Round 1

Get pulled into a stew–deckie argument about cleaning zones. One claims she was “emotionally steamrolled,” the other insists he “can’t be controlled by rotas.” I channel my inner therapist and suggest they go clean literally anything.

11:00 – Safety Check & Document Doom

Update the maintenance tracker, adjust ISM checklists, and attempt to decipher the engineer’s handwriting on a service log. It reads “left widget thingy squawked.” That’s fine. Normal. Chief Stew radios: guests want the Captain. Captain says, “Tell them I’m in a meeting.” He’s on the sun deck ranking guest shoes.

12:30 – Lunch? Allegedly

Grab a tray of salad and eat it at my desk while emailing the management company about crew certificates. Interrupted: “Sorry, but the boss says the sun’s in his eyes—can we reposition the yacht?” Naturally. Because the Earth’s axial tilt is clearly our fault.

14:00 – Tender Ops Supervision

Coordinate guest drop-off. Spot a deckhand docking the tender like he’s playing Mario Kart. Offer polite correction. Mentally scream. Recoil a line myself. Smile. Die inside.

15:00 – HR Mediation Round 2

Resolve a spat between the bosun and sous chef about who’s been yelled at more this week. Hand them both a cookie and say I’m proud. I’m not. But they looked like they needed it.

16:30 – Paperwork, Policies, and a Panic Drill

Update the muster list. Schedule a fire drill. Chief Stew asks if it’s “mandatory.” I ask if breathing is. The alarm goes off; one deckhand dives for cover. Not wrong energy, just misplaced.

18:00 – Guest Sundowners & Subtle Supervision

Guests out on deck. Beanbags arranged. Bosun twitching. I linger nearby in case someone takes a selfie on the rail again. Intercept a stew about to light a lantern with hairspray. Crisis averted. Guests ask what my role is. I reply, “Safety officer, personnel manager, spare tender driver, floating therapist, professional apologiser.”

20:00 – Bridge Watch & Existential Reflections

Radar purring. Radio quiet. I stare at the horizon, wondering if I’ve become the human embodiment of “Don’t Ask Me, Ask the Captain.” The Captain, naturally, is making cocktails for the guests.

22:00 – Night Rounds & Final Emails

Walk the deck one last time. Spot a loose line, a towel over a radar dome, and someone’s socks on the aft steps. Send polite-but-deadly emails. Schedule tomorrow’s crew meeting: “How Not to Touch Anything You Shouldn’t.”

23:00 – Lights Out. Chief Mode Off.

Fall into bed still wearing epaulettes. Drift off planning my retirement—somewhere quiet, no radios, no beanbags, and absolutely no crew.

With Courtesy of Erica Lay & The Mallorca Bulletin. #25/1094.

Erica Lay owner of EL CREW International Yacht Crew Agency http://www.elcrewco.com/ erica@elcrewco.com

From Olympic campaigns to two America’s Cups and a world championship title, Captain Nik Pearson has lived the high-adrenaline life of a professional sailor. Today, he’s at the helm of SY Unplugged, where he’s traded the chaos of race starts for the art of creating unforgettable holidays. But that competitive spark? It’s still burning—just redirected toward securing the best anchorage in the Med.

From the Start Line to the Sunsets

“I was a bowman in the America’s Cup—right up front where the cameras always found me,” Nik laughs. “Not ideal when you’re trying to sneak a nervous pre-race pee behind the sails, only to gybe and be met by a wall of press boats.”

He recalls a career full of high-stakes moments—being T-boned on a Swan 90, dangling off a spinnaker pole in 30 knots off Trapani—but also one defined by grit and camaraderie. “Every day was nerve-shredding, but the people made it special. Guys like Neil MacDonald, Santiago Lange, or Freddie Carr could lift the crew even after weeks of cold, wet training. The real leader isn’t always the helm—it’s the one everyone listens to because they want to, not because they have to.”

A New Course

After the 2007 Cup, politics and burnout pushed Nik away from racing. “An owner I’d sailed with asked me to captain a 24-metre yacht cruising the world’s best diving and climbing spots,” he says. “It was a dream gig until the 2008 crash killed the project—but by then, I’d crossed to the so-called ‘dark side’ for good.”

Now, his goals are less about podiums and more about perfection. “I’ve just shifted the competition. It’s about creating the best experience for guests—hitting the perfect anchorage, timing the Corinth Canal passage with sunset, or diverting around a storm without them even knowing. Every day has that edge, and I like to nail it.”

Racing Spirit, Charter Heart

When asked what’s harder—keeping a race crew sharp or keeping guests happy—Nik doesn’t hesitate: “Guests. A boatload of alphas trying to run the itinerary individually can be exhausting. I’ve learned to gather them as a group and let them decide collectively before they wear me down one by one.”

Yet he insists the rewards are greater. “It’s the people. Making guests cry happy tears, watching a junior stew grow into a pro, seeing a kid swim for the first time—those are wins that matter.”

Lessons at Sea

From his racing days, Nik carries forward two lessons. “Look after the little people,” he says. “On Cup teams, the shore crew and cleaners got the worst kit and least thanks—it killed morale. Now, I look after the lowest-ranked crew member first. When they feel valued, the whole team runs better.”

And then there’s the mantra of his old coach Jim Saltonstall:

‘Proper Preparation Prevents Piss Poor Performance.’

“The seven P’s are gospel,” Nik grins.

Finding Balance

Superstitions still follow him. “I always throw money into the sea for Neptune. Once it was a note because there were no coins aboard.”

And while he’s seen wild parties on both sides of the industry, one kind stands out: “There’s no party like an America’s Cup ‘oh f*** we’re out’ party. You’ve lost your job, home, and family in a day—but the pressure’s gone, and for one night, you’re free.”

What Makes a Good Owner

“Decency,” Nik says simply. “There are plenty of good boats, not many good owners. I’ve had the same ones for 12 years, and that loyalty means more than any bigger yacht. Boats are replaceable. Good owners aren’t.”

The Captain’s Compass

Asked what he’d tell his younger self, he smiles. “You can’t rush experience. Qualifications get you up the ladder, but experience keeps you there. Too many chase a Master 3000 but can’t read a sea breeze. Learn, watch, absorb—it all counts later.”

And the dream? “An explorer-style motor yacht going off the beaten path. Or an eco-sailing cat that pushes the limits with solar and regeneration tech. I like anything that moves the game forward.”

Before signing off, he adds one last thought:

“Don’t take life for granted. Live every day as if it’s your last—you never know when that day will be.”

Pull Quotes

• “Racing is a drug and yes, I miss it every day. Now I just race for the best anchor spot.”
• “The leader isn’t the helm – it’s the person everyone listens to because they want to, not because they have to.”
• “You can’t rush experience. Qualifications get you up the ladder fast, but experience keeps you there.”
• “Boats are easy to replace – good owners aren’t.”