Category: Yachting Culture

Yachting Culture #25/1060.

SUPERYACHT ENGINEERS – PART II

The Girls in the Grey: Not your stew. Not your fantasy. Just your last line of defence.

By Chef Tom Voigt

Some guests mistake them for a junior stew…

“Oh how sweet, she’s helping clean the engine room!”

No darling.

She is the engineer.

She’s not helping.

She’s fixing the thing that keeps your rosé cold and your toilet flushing at 3am.

Let’s be clear:

She didn’t fall into engineering because she likes overalls.

She’s here because she’s good.

And because someone needs to crawl through the bilge like a mouse in the shadows to save your sorry weekend from becoming a rescue op.

They call her a unicorn.

They mean it as a compliment.

But really?

She’s more like a Phoenix—

Rising from the ashes of burnt wiring and broken fuel pumps—

Only to show up two hours later in a dress and heels that make the deckhands forget their own names.

She wears high heels that whisper “boardroom” but stomp like “bilge pump.”

Slight hint of diesel.

Heavy notes of don’t even try me.

She disappears like Batman into the underworld of the yacht—

Silent, unseen, deep into the steaming guts of steel, wires, and diesel.

No one noticed…

And then,

She strolls back to our table—flawless, in a dress like a weapon.

Winks without a word and orders a bloody steak.

She sips a very dry martini.

As if nothing had happened.

And maybe nothing had.

Just a minor leak.

Or the beginning of the end.

By day, she’s as precise and versatile as a Navy SEAL, a Swiss Army knife.

When night falls, she’s pure Marly Delina.

Yes, she drinks.

Yes, she swears.

Yes, she can strip a watermaker faster than you can Google “why is my engine smoking.”

She can tell a lie from a pump by ear.

She knows the generators better than her ex.

And she will, without a doubt, drink you under the table on a Tuesday—

Then fix the stabilisers on Wednesday while you nurse your ego and a hangover.

She doesn’t post selfies from the engine room.

Not because she couldn’t.

But because she doesn’t have time for your vanity metrics.

She’s busy keeping the boat alive.

And no, she doesn’t need a hashtag for that.

At crew dinner, she arrives late.

Not because she’s slow.

But because she was still inside a fan belt when you were choosing your shirt.

And when she walks in, smelling faintly of hand soap and heaven—

Everyone goes silent.

Deckhands suddenly find their manners.

Stews take notes.

The captain adjusts his posture.

She doesn’t demand attention.

She is attention.

She is not your dream girl.

She is your emergency contact.

She’s not one of the boys.

She’s not one of the girls.

She’s one of the gods.

And while you wonder how her lipstick stayed on during a coolant flush,

She’s already down in the bilge again—

Saving your trip,

Your pride,

And your engines.

Because real engineering doesn’t care about gender.

But it’s about time yachting started to.

#Yachtgasm

#TheGirlInTheGrey

#DieselAndHighHeels

#SuperyachtPhoenix

#NoEngineerNoYacht

#TorqueMeTender

#GoddessOfTheBilge

#SheKnowsWhatThatNoiseWas

With Courtesy of Erica Lay & The Mallorca Bulletin. #25/1061.

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

Killer Instincts: Why Are Orcas Targeting Yachts?

By Erica Lay

It sounds like something out of a nature docudrama: orcas, sleek and intelligent apex predators, seemingly developing a taste for yacht rudders. Nom nom. But for many sailors navigating the Bay of Biscay, the Portuguese coast, and down in the Gibraltar Strait, it’s become an increasingly serious concern. In recent years, dozens of incidents have been reported of orcas—also known as killer whales—ramming sailboats, damaging rudders, and in some cases, rendering vessels completely inoperable.

So what’s going on? Are orcas just having a bit of fun? Are they playing, hunting, protesting, or perhaps just showing off to their mates? Theories abound, and the truth might be somewhere in between.

“I was off the coast of Barbate when we felt the first hit,” says Tomás, a local skipper from Algeciras in the south of Spain. “At first I thought we’d struck debris. Then came the second blow, and I saw the fin. It was surreal. They weren’t aggressive exactly, but they weren’t shy either.”

Marine biologists suggest several possible explanations. Some believe the behaviour is playful—orcas are known for their curiosity and complex social interactions. Juvenile orcas, much like human teenagers, push boundaries regularly to see what they can and can’t get away with. Others argue that it’s a learned behaviour, perhaps triggered by a negative experience one whale had with a rudder, which is now being copied and taught to others.

So could this behaviour be, in fact, revenge? In 2020, a juvenile orca known as White Gladis was reportedly injured by a boat. Since then, attacks have increased in the region. While no one can confirm a direct connection, the idea of a retaliatory movement among whales has captured public imagination—and the headlines.

“They’re not out to get us,” says one anonymous yacht captain. “But they are smart, they know where the rudder is, and they’re not just bumping the hull for fun. It’s deliberate. They seem to know what they’re aiming for and I’ll be honest, it’s unnerving.”

That’s one way to describe it. All sounds a bit Jaws 4, doesn’t it?

Some orcas appear to go straight for the kill—well, the steering, anyway—snapping rudders off in minutes. Others simply circle the yacht, poke and prod with their noses, or slap their tails. No two encounters seem to be exactly alike, which only adds to the intrigue and anxiety.

Meanwhile, sailors are being urged not to panic. Marine organisations have published guidelines for what to do during an orca encounter:

• Slow down
• Disengage the autopilot
• Don’t shout or bang on the hull

Essentially: don’t give them a reaction.

(We’ll talk more about this next week, but that’s easier said than done when your helm suddenly stops working mid-crossing.)

One charter skipper out of Cádiz recalled a particularly tense encounter:

“They stayed with us for over an hour. Just circling, nudging. One of them gave the rudder a solid knock and then drifted off. It was like it was testing us—seeing how we’d respond.”

Whether it’s teenage rebellion or strategic sabotage, the orcas have become a talking point from marina bars to marine biology labs.

At the end of the day, we’re in their backyard—so is this something we just have to put up with?

A spokesperson from Sea Shepherd France thinks so:

“We are just their guests. This is their home. We are passing through.”

For now, the phenomenon remains largely a mystery. Researchers are calling for calm and cooperation between sailors and scientists. Efforts are underway to track the orcas’ behaviour, while sailing associations are advising yachts to avoid certain hotspots and to sail in groups when possible. Some even suggest carrying decoy rudders or noise deterrents—though the long-term efficacy of these methods is still up for debate.

In the meantime, crew operating in known orca zones are keeping their fingers crossed—and their rudders reinforced.

“You respect the ocean, and you respect the animals in it,” says a small sailboat owner who was recently targeted. “But if they’re going to start dismantling our boats piece by piece, we’ll need more than respect. We’ll need a plan.”

Stay tuned for Part Two: How to Deal with Orca Encounters.

Yachting Culture #25/1059.

Superyacht Engineer – ain´t ghost in the bilge, but god of the boat

by Chef Tom Voigt

Some guests on a luxury yacht will always say to the chef:
“Ah, here she/he is – the most important person on the boat.”

Oh, right. The guests on a superyacht see the chef as the absolute pinnacle of their luxurious existence. Because clearly, in a world of multi-million-dollar floating palaces, surrounded by 360-degree ocean views, heli decks, jet skis, mirrored ceilings and seven crew per toothbrush…
It’s the guy (or girl) doing the foie gras reduction that’s holding the ship together.

Because obviously, without the chef, they’d starve.
In a floating fridge with ten kinds of caviar and a freezer packed like Fort Knox.

True words.
But wait a minute.

Let’s talk about the guy no one talks about.

Somewhere below deck, past the polite smiles and perfumed cabins, there’s a man.
You won’t see him at the welcome drinks.
He’s not on the beach.
He’s not part of the white-polo-and-Ray-Ban department.

No tan. No shine.
Just oil under the nails and the face of someone who’s crawled inside a fuel filter because no one else would.

They call him the engineer.
Most rookies call him “the weird guy downstairs.”
To the rest, he’s just the one who makes sure this floating palace doesn’t turn into a floating blackout.

Some say he sleeps too much.
Some say he’s basically a ghost, living like a banished mechanic in the bowels of the yacht.
And some green deckhand is always making jokes about “the guy on the sofa.”

Yeah. That guy.
The one who hasn’t slept in three days because the shore power shorted in Naples and the battery charger caught fire.
The one who’s replaced a raw water impeller mid-storm while the captain was on TikTok.
The one who knows the sound of every pump – and when they’re lying.

The truth is:
He’s invisible until something breaks.
And then he’s suddenly the most important person on board.
More important than the chef.
More important than the captain.
More important than whoever brought the champagne.

You think this yacht runs on sunshine and Instagram likes?
Try skipping a day without him.

No engineer = no toilets.
No engineer = no aircon.
No engineer = no cold rosé in Porto Cervo.
No engineer = you stuck at anchor, staring at a dead dashboard while the guests ask why the jacuzzi’s cold.

And yes – sometimes he naps.
Because he works 20 hours a day.
Because he hasn’t had a proper shower in a week.
Because he just climbed inside a generator exhaust duct to fix something that should’ve been replaced 5 years ago.

The sofa he sleeps on?
It’s not a bed.
It’s a battlefield.
And it smells like diesel, despair, and quiet competence.

You want to know how I know all this?

Because in my 15+ years of yachting, working with over 98% of the engineers on board was not just functional – it was the best part of it.
Real friendship. Real respect.
Still is.
Still proud of every engine room laugh, emergency repair, and deadpan joke at 4am.

Because if there’s one crew member who really keeps it all going,
one who doesn’t just look like a legend but actually is one…

…it’s that strange, invisible man downstairs.
The engineer.

#Yachtgasm #TheManBelow #DieselOverDrama #SuperyachtEngineer #GhostOfTheEngineRoom #NoEngineerNoYacht #YachtRealityUnfiltered

With Courtesy of Erica Lay &#25/1058.

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

Always On, Always Behind: The Social Media Pressure Cooker for Superyacht Crew

There was a time when being a good crew member meant showing up, staying switched on, and keeping your uniform clean-ish. (Depending on department. Free tip: don’t give engineers a white shirt.) You worked hard, earned your stripes, and if the season was good, maybe clocked up a decent tip or three, a bit of a tan, and a few cracking stories to tell at the crew bar.

These days? It’s not enough to just, well, be good, you have to look good doing it, post about it, hashtag it, and somehow be building a lucrative side hustle in your downtime too.

Welcome to the age of chronic overachievement, fuelled by social media and filtered through the lens of highly curated yacht life. And make no mistake, it’s taking a toll on crew morale, expectations, and mental health.

The Cult of Comparison: Everyone’s Yacht Life Looks Better Than Yours

Social media has always been a highlight reel, but in yachting, that reel comes with superyachts, designer sunglasses, endless magnums of Minuty and Miravall, and sunsets off the Amalfi Coast. It’s a potent cocktail of envy and ambition. Scroll through any crew feed and you’ll see the same themes: jaw-dropping destinations, generous guest tips, and photogenic crew, bonding in exotic places.

What you don’t see are the back-to-back boss trips and charters with no time to breathe in between, the 18-hour days, the engineer crying in the laundry room over a broken steamer, or the deckhand trying to patch a tender in 40-degree Mediterranean heat while hungover and mildly concussed after last night’s sleep deprived stumble into the door frame coming off a 3am watch. You don’t see any of the toxic crew politics, the broken sleep, the high season panic attacks, or the quiet fear that they’re not doing enough, or simply being enough.

This constant, controlled and thoughtfully edited stream of other people’s “yacht life” creates a distorted sense of what success actually looks like. You start questioning why your own experience doesn’t match the vibe. Why you’re not working on a 90m with a beauty fridge and a Brazilian masseuse who’s happy to spend her time massaging crew (as IF), why you’re not getting tips in envelopes thick enough to stand up on their own, why you haven’t yet been flown to Dubai on a private jet just because the guest liked your face and thought you’d be fun to shop with.

All this storytelling fuels a subtle but relentless anxiety: the idea that if you’re not constantly moving forward – higher rank, bigger boat, flashier itinerary, heftier tips, more famous guests – you’re somehow falling behind. And it doesn’t help that the more stylised the posts become, the less you feel like your reality is valid or worth sharing.

Hustle Culture Hits the High Seas

It’s not enough to just do your job well anymore. Excellence is expected, and then some. These days, crew are expected to be multi-hyphenates: stewardesses doubling as yoga instructors, masseuses, hairdressers, nail techs and nutritionists, deckhands who can shoot and edit drone footage, whilst teaching kitesurfing, diving, and are e foil pros, engineers offering crypto tips over dinner, and chefs conjuring up tasting menus whilst simultaneously churning out TikToks from a galley the size of a shoebox.

Side hustles used to be something you picked up after the season. Think more of an exit strategy for life after yachting. Now they’re practically a crew trait. These extra gigs have become a badge of ambition worn with pride (and just a hint of panic). There’s pressure to monetise your hobbies, turn every skill into a service, and somehow “build your brand” while doing turndowns and fighting mould in the guest showers. If someone had said to a yacht crew ten years ago “what’s your brand” they’d probably have said “Marlboro Lights?” and wandered off, slightly bemused, to get another beer out of the eski. The times, well they be a changin’.

But here’s the thing no one’s saying: most crew are already maxed out. After crazy long days on charter, you’re lucky if you have enough cognitive function left to get a sandwich from a plate to your face without giving yourself a black eye, let alone crack on with your design of a passive income stream. The expectation to constantly do more in your spare time creates a creeping sense of inadequacy. Like if you’re not side-hustling, upskilling, or posting about your growth journey (oh please), you’re somehow lazy or falling behind your peer group. You’re failing at life. Can’t we just have a kip? Chat with a friend? Doomscroll funny dog videos until we nod off and drop the phone on our face?

And while ambition is great, the constant push to “add value” or “upskill” (hello again, LinkedIn buzzwords) is frankly just exhausting. There’s a fine line between healthy progression and a quiet identity crisis. You can only chase the illusion of having it all (at once) for so long before you crash.

Rest is no longer seen as recovery. It’s seen as wasted time. And in yachting, where burnout already simmers just beneath the surface, that mindset is an extremely slippery slope.

The Below Deck Delusion

We can’t talk about distorted expectations without addressing the big fat elephant in the room: Below Deck. On paper, it’s been a PR dream, right? They’re bringing the superyacht industry to a global audience, sparking interest in maritime careers, and providing endless “what not to do” material for green crew.

But let’s be honest… it’s also warped the industry’s image beyond recognition.

Remember the days when you could say to someone at home, “I work on a superyacht” and they’d look at you like you’d grown a second head and have absolutely no idea what that even meant? Good times. That was the golden era, when working on a billionaire’s floating gin palace held a delicious sense of mystery and magic.

Now? Say those same words and the reply is instant: “Oh right, like Below Deck.” And you have to fight every fibre of your being not to punch them in the face and scream, “No! It’s NOTHING like Below Deck!”.

Thanks to our friends at Bravo, new crew arrive expecting drama, chaos, designer uniforms, instant fame, and six-figure tips for getting out of bed. Meanwhile, the new-money Below-Deck-fan-guests show up assuming their charter includes flirtatious stews, shirtless deckhands, crew sexscapades, tears, tantrums and a guaranteed meltdown over dinner service. Nightly. The line between scripted television and real-life professionalism has become alarmingly blurry.

But here’s the truth: most of us aren’t throwing wine glasses or storming off docks. Even if we want to. And sometimes, we really, really want to. Instead, we’re quietly managing rotas, battling provisioning logistics, and praying the stabilisers hold through the lunch main course. There’s no theme music. No confessional interviews. Just long hours, hard work, and the occasional war with a vacuum cleaner/Thermomix/bow thruster/generator etc.

Below Deck sells disorder as normality, and glamorises a version of yachting that prioritises performance over professionalism. Worse still, it feeds into the social media cycle, because now normal crew feel the expectation to make their own life look just as outrageous, successful, and story-worthy in order to satisfy their social media audience and stay relevant online.

The reality? The best crew are usually the least dramatic. They don’t need camera angles or cocktail-fuelled conflict. They just quietly deliver exceptional service and keep the yacht, and the team, running like a beautifully understated Swiss watch.

Burnout in the Age of Overachievement

When every time you pick up your phone to have a little mindless scroll the algorithm delivers you the brutal message that everyone else is doing better than you are, looking sexier, earning more, or climbing the social and career ladders faster, it’s no wonder crew are feeling the strain. It’s not just the physical exhaustion of the job, it’s the mental weight of not measuring up to a moving target that doesn’t even really exist.

We’re talking about a deep, creeping, niggly fatigue that doesn’t go away with sleep. That tight feeling in your chest when you open Instagram on a rough week and see another stew living her heavily filtered “dream charter life” with tip envelopes (#sograteful), perfect lighting, and inspirational captions. You were proud of how you handled that last bossy charter guest, but now you’re questioning if you’re even doing enough.

That’s the thing about overachievement culture, it’s a nasty little beast that’s never satisfied. The goalposts move. The dopamine hits wear off. Eventually, even your wins stop feeling like wins when you’re in a constant battle of comparison.

Burnout used to be the result of long hours and intense pressure. Now it’s compounded by digital noise and the need to keep up, not just professionally, but publicly. And because we work in a world where perception can equal opportunity, there’s even more drive to play the part.

The result? Crew who are highly capable but secretly crumbling. Exhausted, anxious, and stuck in a loop of comparison and self-doubt, all while posting beach photos and pretending they’re fine.

Burnout isn’t always dramatic. Sometimes it’s quiet. It’s the feeling of not caring anymore. Dreading your next trip, even though this is the job you always wanted. Wondering if you’re cut out for it, just because you’re not smiling for the camera or launching your fifth personal venture while running on four hours’ sleep and half a can of dry shampoo.

It’s okay to be tired. It’s okay to not be chasing a “next step” for once. And it’s okay to admit that the pressure isn’t just coming from the boss, it’s coming from the phone in your hand.

So… What Can We Do About It?

First off, we stop pretending.

We stop pretending that everyone is thriving. That every season is the best one yet. That if you’re not double-tasking your charter job and your side project and your personal brand, you’re somehow doing it wrong. That’s just not real life, and the longer we play along, the more pressure we pile on each other.

There’s power in being honest. In saying, “I’m knackered and I want to just lie on my bunk and binge watch a whole season of housewives on my day off.” Or “This job is amazing, but also it’s really hard and sometimes I want to scream.” There’s power in resisting the urge to filter every moment into something worth posting.

The best way to push back against hustle culture and chronic comparison? Value what you do, even if no one else sees it. If it doesn’t go on social media, did it even happen? Spoiler alert: yes, it absolutely did! There’s a real freedom in not posting everything online. Try it.

Also make sure to stop and find pride in the small wins. The well-packed guest suitcase. The avoided provisioning meltdown. The crewmate you quietly helped through a bad week (without posting a sad face selfie to tell everyone how you don’t want praise because you’re just being a good person #payitforward).

Success doesn’t always have to be loud, glamorous, or Instagrammable. Sometimes it looks like a clean uniform, a respectful team, and a good night’s sleep.

As an industry, we need to make space for crew to just be crew, not personal brands, not content creators, not constant performers. There’s nothing wrong with ambition. But ambition without rest, realism, and the occasional reality check? That’s just burnout with better lighting.

So, take the pressure off. You don’t need to prove anything to anyone, least of all to a scrolling audience who don’t know the difference between back-to-back and a breakdown.

Work hard. Rest harder. And if you’re going to compare yourself to anyone, let it be the version of you that started out in this industry: green, nervous, and hopeful. Because you’ve come a long way. Even if you didn’t post about it.

Yachting Culture #25/1062.

“So Let Me Get This Straight…”

A Burnt-End Memoir in Real Time by Yours Truly Chef Raffie

So let me get this straight…

I just landed in Nice—a land known for rosé, regrets, and rejected provisioning invoices—when my WhatsApp lit up like a fryer fire:

“No money.”

“Guests arriving tomorrow.”

“No groceries.”

“Apartment cooking too?”

“Also we need lunch in 2 hours. Can you do gluten-free sushi? But also vegan. But also caviar.”

I am tired. I am hungry. I am already mildly regretting all my life choices.

How did I go from “chef” to underpaid culinary therapist with a side hustle in miracles?

I haven’t even seen the galley yet and I’m already expected to prep lunch, dinner, and somehow manifest a five-course welcome dinner—with no provisions, no budget, and no time.

Oh, and for the record? The last two chefs apparently escaped into the sunset, burned out, used up, and (if there’s any justice in this world) now running a taco stand in Bali.

When I finally step into the galley, it hits me.

I’m not entering a kitchen.

I’m entering a crime scene.

The place is wrecked.

The onions are half-chopped and crying harder than I am.

There’s a smell that can only be described as culinary PTSD.

There’s no petty cash. No provisioning card. No plan. No clue.

But somehow I’m the one expected to whip out soufflés, sushi rolls, and foie gras foam like I’m auditioning for Hell’s Kitchen: Yacht Edition.

And the cherry on top?

“Can you smile more?”

“Hospitality is the heart of yachting.”

Excuse me—what?

Hospitality? You mean pretending everything’s fine while crafting fine dining from an empty fridge, a wet sponge, and a stewardess asking if I’ve ‘started plating yet’?

And God forbid I ask for one day to prep.

One. Freaking. Day.

A single moment to breathe.

To clean up the galley battlefield.

To locate something that isn’t expired or suspiciously green.

To plan a menu with actual ingredients instead of summoning lunch from the ether like a culinary necromancer.

But no.

Apparently, asking for a prep day is a diva move.

I’m not here to cook—I’m here to perform miracles.

So here I stand:

Eye twitching.

Hands trembling.

Holding a can of energy drink in one hand and an empty packet of vegan cheese in the other.

And quietly asking myself:

“Do I cry now or wait until service?”

💡 

The Moment of Clarity

I didn’t scream.

I didn’t throw a ramekin.

I didn’t set the galley on fire and fake my own death (…tempting though).

Instead, I took a deep breath, wrote this story in my head, and realized:

• A day to prep isn’t diva behavior. It’s basic fing logistics*.
• Communication isn’t a luxury. It’s the difference between Michelin stars and meltdown scars.
• And most importantly: I’m a chef, not a one-man cruise ship food court.

🙌 Final Thoughts for My Fellow Galley Gladiators

You are not crazy.

You are not failing.

You are not ungrateful.

The industry is just drunk on its own delusions and expecting us to clean up the mess without even handing us a mop.

So if you’re feeling the pressure…

If you’re holding back the scream…

If someone just handed you a lemon and asked for a tasting menu—

I see you. You’re not alone.

Now go pour yourself a glass of wine. Or a triple espresso.

Or whatever keeps you from throwing the immersion blender at someone.

Because if Jesus could feed 5,000 with five loaves and two fish…

You can politely tell them you need a fing provisioning day.*

Have a wonderful, productive, and stress-free weekend.

(And if not, at least document it—there’s a book in this somewhere.)

Yachting Culture #25/1057.

Season’s End: A Message from the Galley

By Chef Raffie

I’m Tired. I’m Exhausted. I’m Still Here.

To every crew member, chef, stew, deckhand, and soul barely holding on—

Right now, I’m standing somewhere between faith and fatigue.

My body aches. My heart is heavy. My future feels uncertain.

But I still have God. I still have hope.

And I’m finally saying this out loud:

I am not okay. And that’s okay.

This industry has a way of breaking you down quietly.

You give everything—your sleep, your health, your sanity—

All for someone else’s luxury holiday, or that perfect Instagram plate.

And when you’re hurting, the response is always the same:

“Push through.”

“Tough it out.”

“Take a shot and keep going.”

I’ve done that. For years.

But now I know better:

There is no medal for dying with your clogs on.

To every chef hiding pain behind a smile,

To every stew faking energy in the laundry room,

To every deckhand swallowing exhaustion just to avoid being replaced—

You are not weak. You are human.

🛳️ To captains, owners, brokers:

If you’re going to call us “family,” then protect us like one.

That means real support—therapy, time off, grace—not just bonuses.

🙏 To everyone in this industry:

If you’re breaking, speak.

If you’re tired, rest.

If you’re drowning, ask for help.

Before it’s too late.

I’m choosing healing. Choosing honesty.

Choosing not to become another silent statistic.

And if you’re reading this?

You can, too.

God, have mercy on those who serve.

And may we all remember:

We are worthy of being served, too.

The season is almost over. Hold on.

—Chef Raffie

#YachtingMentalHealth #HospitalityBurnout #ChefLife #CrewCare #ItsOkayToNotBeOkay #FaithOverFatigue #AskForHelp #NotAnotherStatistic #HealingIsCourage

With Courtesy of Erica Lay & The Mallorca Bulletin. #25/1056.

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

Sustainability on Superyachts: Implementing Green Practices

The yachting industry, long synonymous with luxury and indulgence, is increasingly embracing sustainability as a core value. As environmental awareness rises, yacht owners, builders, and operators are taking meaningful steps to reduce their ecological footprint. From cutting waste and adopting eco-friendly technologies to promoting responsible cruising, the superyacht sector is making real strides toward a greener future.

Waste Reduction

One of the primary pillars of superyacht sustainability is effective waste management. Yacht crews are now expected to minimise waste at every stage and ensure proper disposal both at sea and ashore.

1. Recycling Programs

Most modern superyachts now operate comprehensive recycling systems onboard. Separate bins for plastics, glass, paper, and metals help crews sort waste efficiently, ensuring it is handled appropriately upon reaching port. Marinas across the Balearics, especially in Mallorca, are well equipped with bins for proper disposal.

2. Waste Compactors

Larger yachts often install waste compactors to reduce the volume of onboard rubbish. This not only makes storage more manageable but also decreases the frequency of offloading waste. Smaller yachts, where space remains a premium, are less likely to feature these systems.

3. Composting

Some yachts are now equipped with composting units to process food waste and other biodegradable materials, reducing landfill contributions and providing a more sustainable alternative for organic refuse.

4. Reusable and Biodegradable Products

A growing number of crews are switching to reusable water bottles, shopping bags, and storage containers. Alongside this shift is the adoption of biodegradable cleaning products and toiletries, helping reduce the release of harmful chemicals into the marine environment.

Eco-Friendly Technologies

Technology is playing a critical role in pushing the superyacht industry toward a lower-impact future. Many new builds—and refits—are incorporating systems that reduce energy use and emissions.

1. Hybrid Propulsion Systems

Hybrid systems that combine diesel engines with electric motors are becoming more common. These systems offer quieter, cleaner cruising, especially in environmentally sensitive areas, and dramatically reduce overall fuel use.

2. Solar Panels

Solar panels are being fitted to supplement power for auxiliary systems like lighting and electronics. While not yet powerful enough to run the whole vessel, they offer a clean energy boost and reduce reliance on fossil fuels.

3. LED Lighting

LED systems consume less energy and last longer than traditional incandescent bulbs. Most superyachts are now outfitted with LED lighting throughout, reducing both energy demand and maintenance.

4. Advanced Water Treatment Systems

Modern superyachts often include systems to purify and reuse water. These technologies treat greywater and blackwater onboard, allowing for safe discharge or reuse and reducing the need to draw from natural sources.

Responsible Cruising

Sustainability extends beyond the yacht itself to how and where it is used. Owners and crews are adopting cruising practices that minimise their environmental impact.

1. Eco-Friendly Destinations

Charter itineraries now increasingly favour locations that prioritise environmental protection. Visiting marine reserves and supporting local eco-projects can directly benefit fragile ecosystems.

2. Slow Cruising

Reducing cruising speed cuts fuel consumption and carbon emissions. It also lessens underwater noise pollution and limits disturbance to marine life—a win-win for planet and performance.

3. Anchoring with Care

Dropping anchor can cause irreparable damage to the seabed. Crews are now trained to use mooring buoys where available or anchor only in sandy areas to avoid harming sensitive environments like seagrass meadows. Around Mallorca, awareness of Posidonia seagrass is vital—violations can lead to significant fines, so knowing local laws is essential.

4. Marine Wildlife Protection

Yachts are implementing procedures to avoid disturbing marine wildlife. These include observing legal distance zones from marine mammals, reducing engine noise, and respecting wildlife protection laws in different regions.

A Greener Future for Yachting

The superyacht sector is taking significant and commendable steps toward sustainability. With smarter waste strategies, advanced green technologies, and more conscious cruising habits, the industry is evolving to meet today’s environmental challenges.

These initiatives not only help protect the world’s oceans and coastlines but also redefine what luxury means at sea. The future of yachting is no longer just about elegance—it’s about responsibility, innovation, and preservation.

With Courtesy of Erica Lay & The Mallorca Bulletin. #25/1047.

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

Galley Gossip: The Secrets Yacht Chefs Won’t Tell You

By Erica Lay

Step into the galley of a superyacht and you’ll find a culinary world far removed from the white-jacketed serenity of a Michelin-starred kitchen. Yes, the food is just as good—sometimes better—but the pressure? That’s turned up to eleven. Behind the pass, amid the clatter of knives and the hum of induction hobs, yacht chefs are quietly working miracles, often with one hand on a pan and the other gripping the counter to stay upright in rolling seas.

No Menu, No Mercy

What makes the life of a yacht chef so different? For starters, there’s rarely a fixed menu.

“You’re cooking blind half the time,” says one chef who’s worked aboard both private and charter yachts for over a decade. “You get a brief that says ‘light, fresh, Mediterranean’ and then someone asks for lobster mac and cheese at 2am.”

Guest whims are only part of the chaos. Add cramped quarters, long hours, and provisioning roulette (good luck sourcing sashimi-grade tuna in a Croatian village on a Sunday night), and it’s a wonder chefs don’t go full Gordon Ramsay every other hour.

Improvisation Nation

“You learn to improvise pretty quickly,” says another chef, who once had to recreate a wedding cake using only coconut flour, passionfruit jam, and sheer panic. “You also learn not to flinch when a guest tells you they’re now gluten-free, dairy-free, sugar-free and ‘don’t really eat vegetables’ halfway through a crossing.”

Cooking underway? Think of The Great British Bake Off, if the tent were strapped to a rollercoaster.

“Try plating beef Wellington in a Force 7,” says Jack, a former restaurant chef turned yachtie. “I swear my sous-chef once held a soufflé steady with his forehead.”

Provisioning Woes

Meticulous provisioning plans often unravel once guests step on board with “new” dietary preferences.

“I had a charter once where the preference sheet stated: ‘strict vegan’—and they demanded steak every night,” sighs another.

Food trends on board are as fickle as the wind. Plant-based is in. Sushi’s always in. Fancy hydration? That’s the new obsession.

“I spend more on coconut water and aloe juice than on wine some weeks,” says Emily, a sous-chef on a 70m charter yacht. “And don’t get me started on alkaline water and personalised electrolyte sachets,” adds Harriet, their chief stew.

Crew Cuisine: Mutiny or Masterpiece

Crew food is either a point of pride or a recipe for rebellion.

“You can’t serve crew spaghetti three nights in a row unless you want a walkout,” laughs one chef. “The crew are just as important—maybe more—than the guests. No crew? No boat. No charter. No tip.”

The Brutal Brilliance

Despite the madness, most yacht chefs wouldn’t trade it for anything. The creativity, the challenge, the travel, and the satisfaction of impressing guests who usually dine at Nobu—it’s addictive.

“When it goes right, there’s nothing like it,” says Isabela, a seasoned charter chef. “But make no mistake. This isn’t some dreamy barefoot cooking gig. It’s brutal. And it’s brilliant.”

Chefs and stews build close bonds under pressure. Shared midnight snacks and galley therapy sessions are part of the job.

“I once cried because my avocado delivery had all gone off and I had to make breakfast for a Californian yoga group,” one chef admits. “The chief stew brought me tequila. That’s real solidarity.”

Tales from the Galley

And then there are the stories. The billionaire who demanded a ‘full English’ breakfast on a vegan yacht. The A-lister who wanted every meal shaped like a heart—including soup. The lobster ordered “fresh from the tender” in the Med, where lobsters don’t exactly roam free.

But the golden rule? Discretion.

“You’ll never hear a real chef naming names,” says Jack. “We work in the shadows. Delicious, demanding, and always just out of sight.”

So next time you hear about a billionaire stepping aboard and casually requesting a 12-course tasting menu with no gluten, sugar, or onions—remember: somewhere below deck, a sleep-deprived genius is crafting culinary magic with two burners, a blunt knife, and a fridge full of wilting rocket.

That Michelin-worthy meal? It came with a side of burns, bruises, and an emotional breakdown over microgreens.

With Courtesy of Erica Lay & The Mallorca Bulletin. #25/1043.

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

Things Yacht Crew Wish Guests Knew

By Erica Lay

We love our guests. We really do. Without them, we’d just be a bunch of uniformed adults floating around with no one to iron napkins for. But every now and then, there are moments that make even the most seasoned crew member want to dive straight off the stern and swim for shore.

So, in the spirit of gentle education (and saving future charters from passive-aggressively folded towel animals on the aft deck), here are a few things yacht crew secretly, and sometimes desperately, wish guests knew:

“The yacht doesn’t run on fairy dust.”

Yes, it’s magic. You wake up and your bed is made, your laundry is done, and a fresh fruit platter has appeared by the jacuzzi. But behind every seamless moment is a team of over-caffeinated, under-slept humans making it happen.

“We love creating the illusion of effortless luxury,” says a chief stew. “But it’s not effortless. We’ve just mastered the art of looking calm while sprinting between decks with a lint roller and a label maker.”

“3am is not a reasonable time to ring the service bell for a different pillow.”

We’re all for great sleep. But if your pillow is the wrong density, please let us know during daylight hours.

“One guest rang the bell at 2:47am to say his pillow was too ‘flat’,” reports one stewardess. “I took it away, plumped it, put a fresh pillowcase on it in the laundry room, and told him it was a brand new one. He slept like a baby.”

“Don’t treat the crew like invisible butlers.”

We know how to be discreet. But that doesn’t mean we’re robots.

“I had a guest talk about me like I wasn’t standing there,” says a deckhand. “‘The tall lad can fetch it.’ Mate, I have a name. And a black belt in passive-aggressive silver polishing.”

“No, you cannot take the jet ski out after 10 Negronis.”

This should go without saying, but here we are.

“I’ve had guests beg to go wakeboarding at midnight after an entire bottle of tequila,” says one bosun. “It’s a hard no. If you’re not sober enough to find your flip-flops, you’re not going anywhere near the water.”

“Tip like you mean it.”

“When you spend €300,000 on a charter and leave €500 for 12 crew members, we will notice,” says one chef. “We won’t say anything, but your latte art might be of something obscene in the morning.”

“Please just read the itinerary.”

It took weeks to plan that perfectly balanced route you fully signed off on. So when you decide over breakfast that you’d rather pop to Corsica… it’s a challenge.

“It’s like planning a wedding and then being told the bride fancies a ski trip instead,” says a purser.

“We see (and hear) everything.”

Yachts aren’t soundproof. We hear the fights. We hear the reunions. We hear the karaoke.

“We once had a guest sing My Heart Will Go On to his reflection for forty-five minutes in the main salon,” says a deckhand. “In the nude.”

“Shoes. Off. Please.”

There’s a reason we ask. Teak is precious.

“We just spent the whole winter in the yard laying a new deck. It cost more than your Louboutins.”

“If you like something, say so.”

You enjoyed the lunch? Loved the wine pairing? Tell us! It means the world.

“One guest thanked me for remembering she liked mint in her lemonade,” says a junior stew. “I nearly cried.”

“We’re here to make your trip amazing—not to be your emotional support humans.”

We’ll absolutely go the extra mile. But please don’t unpack your midlife crisis onto the bosun.

“One guy told me his entire life story, then asked if I thought he should divorce his wife,” says a stew. “I was just there to collect his socks.”

So, dear guests: we love your energy, your taste in rosé, and your quirky requests (mostly). Just remember that behind every freshly baked croissant and perfectly shaken martini is a crew member who’s working hard to make your dreams come true—without losing their sanity in the process.

Be kind. Be respectful. And for the love of Neptune, don’t ask for sushi at 4am… unless you want your next meal garnished with thinly sliced resentment.

With Courtesy of Erica Lay & The Mallorca Bulletin. #25/1041.

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

Yachts & Young Ones: Is Mallorca Really Family-Friendly for Superyacht Guests?

By Erica Lay

There’s no shortage of sun-kissed glamour when it comes to Mallorca, but how does it fare when your charter guests are swapping champagne flutes for sippy cups? In other words: is Mallorca actually family-friendly when the guests come with toddlers, teenagers, or both?

Surprisingly (and to the relief of many a stew and deckhand), the answer is a resounding yes.

Running a successful family charter isn’t just about hauling out the inflatable flamingo and hoping for the best. It’s a team effort involving careful itinerary planning, clever toy storage, and a crew that can pivot from silver service to babysitting mode faster than you can say “where’s the kiddy sunscreen?”

“We always breathe a little sigh of relief when we see families on the preference sheet,” says Zoe, a chief stewardess with over a decade of charter experience. “It means there’s less pressure on the party front and more focus on fun. But it also means you need to be switched on 24/7. Kids don’t care if you’ve had three hours’ sleep.”

Mallorca’s calm, shallow bays and sheltered anchorages are perfect for family cruising. Places like Port de Pollença, Cala d’Or, and Sant Elm offer safe swimming spots, gentle beach landings, and easy access to shore.

“We always anchor off Es Trenc at least once during the week,” says Jake, a first mate on a 40m charter yacht. “The water’s shallow, there’s loads of space for water toys, and it’s one of the few beaches where kids can run wild without worrying about beach clubs or jet skis.”

Water toys, of course, are key. Stand-up paddleboards, inflatable slides, jellyfish nets, and even floating trampolines can turn a good day into a brilliant one. And for older kids? Think Seabobs, e-foils, and towables that guarantee a nap later (for everyone involved – except the crew, obvs).

“We did a treasure hunt once using the tender and a laminated pirate map,” recalls Lily, a stewardess who regularly runs theme days for junior guests. “They were absolutely beside themselves with excitement. And yes, we made the captain wear an eye patch.”

On the food front, chefs often work overtime to keep everyone happy.

“I’ve learned to make dinosaur-shaped pancakes, cater to three different allergies at once, and still get the beef Wellington out for the adults on time,” says James, a charter chef based out of Palma. “The key is having fun with it. If the kids are happy, the parents are relaxed, and that makes for a great charter.”

Back on land, Mallorca delivers in spades. Many of the top beach clubs now offer kids’ menus and shaded play areas. Meanwhile, excursions to places like waterparks, Palma Aquarium, or a ride on the vintage wooden train to Sóller are firm favourites for crew planning shore days.

And let’s not forget the grown-ups: while the kids are building sandcastles or spotting turtles, there’s always a chilled glass of verdejo on standby.

One big asset? Nannies.

Some yachts have dedicated childcare staff, while others work with onshore agencies like Mallorca Nannies or Angels Nursing & Babysitting Agency, who provide vetted professionals for onboard or onshore support.

“Having an experienced nanny onboard for the week changes everything,” says Zoe. “It means parents can enjoy their holiday without feeling guilty, and we can make sure everyone’s getting the attention they need.”

Of course, every family is different. Some come with strict routines and bedtime alarms, while others are wonderfully chaotic. The best crews, says Lily, learn to roll with it.

“You can plan your heart out, but toddlers will always surprise you. You just have to smile and adapt. And never, ever run out of baby wipes.”

So is Mallorca family-friendly for superyacht charters?

Absolutely. With the right mindset, a stash of snacks, and a crew who aren’t afraid to wear pirate costumes, it might just be the ultimate destination for young families afloat.

Because while it might not be the holiday the parents had pre-kids, it can still be the holiday they didn’t realise they needed.