From Dublin to San Sebastián (aka “The Journey Begins”)

Ryan’s Take:

When we were kids, Liam and I sat by Dublin Bay, eyes on the horizon, swearing we’d set sail one day. 

All talk. Big dreams. 

But last week? We actually shoved off from Dún Laoghaire Harbour, pointed straight for San Sebastián, Spain. And let me tell you, it hit different when it was real. 

First off, prep nearly killed us. The list never ended. “La Sirena,” our 35-foot Beneteau Oceanis 351, needed everything checked, rechecked, and checked again. 

She’s a beauty. Solid. But even solid boats don’t like getting slapped around in Biscay. That sea’s got a reputation—one we weren’t eager to test. So we spent weeks messing with rigging, installing Starlink Maritime (so Da’ could breathe easy), and triple-checking charts. 

Then there was the food. Liam, fancy chef. Me? Baked beans, pasta, and the odd sandwich. But we stocked up: fresh water, emergency rations, more coffee than reasonable. Liam also smuggled five bottles of hot sauce aboard. 

“Keeps you warm, even if the food’s cold.” 

Not sure that’s science, but whatever. 

Then we left. And it hit me. 

Money wasn’t the problem—Ma’ left us enough from Grandda’s old house in Ballybough. We made a pact at her wake: spend it on something that meant something. She always said, “Brothers stick together.” 

We’re sticking. 

But Biscay doesn’t care about family promises. That sea is its own thing. I got my RYA Day Skipper last year—for Irish waters. Biscay? That’s another story. 

Anyway, Liam’s turn. 

Liam’s Take: 

Ryan and his checklists. He’ll tell you every detail. 

Me? This is about breaking routine, honoring Ma’, and just doing something big. 

Not gonna lie, I was a shambles at first. Ryan had the wind angles calculated, emergency calls prepped, and the whole crossing planned down to the last wave. 

I? Was mostly trying not to fall over or puke. 

But by day two, we settled in. Ryan navigated, I cooked (made a top-tier prawn risotto, thank you very much). We bickered. Hard. Mostly over the playlist—he wanted pop classics, I went for rap. The man argues just for sport. 

Then Biscay came knocking. 

Biscay Almost Ate Us 

Before we left, the old salts at the marina gave us the talk. 

“Biscay’s got teeth. The shallow shelf meets deep Atlantic. The waves don’t ask permission.” 

And, yeah. They were right. 

Third night in, 25-knot winds, waves hammering La Sirena. Autopilot said, “nah.” Ryan took the helm. I watched him make a dozen split-second calls: easing the mainsheet, adjusting our angle, not once looking rattled. 

I’ll say it—he’s the better sailor. 

At 2 a.m., middle of the black sea, I had a moment. Just me, Ryan, and miles of ocean, with nothing but our own hands keeping us upright. 

This was the real deal. 

Then Ryan called sail reduction. Reefing the main was a battle. Every move was a fight, the deck slippery, the wind screaming. But once it was done? Instant relief. The boat steadied. Autopilot came back online. The panic eased. 

By dawn, we were through it. La Sirena had held her own. And we? Felt like actual sailors. 

Landfall in San Sebastián 

Five days in, land appeared. 

Relief. Disbelief. A bit of madness. 

We hit port looking like absolute wrecks. Hugging, cheering, probably scaring the Spanish locals. Popped open a bottle of Rioja we smuggled from Dublin. 

Not just about getting there. About proving we could. 

What’s Next? 

San Sebastián’s the first stop. We’re heading down Spain’s northern coast: Bilbao, Santander, maybe Barcelona if the wind doesn’t betray us. 

For everyone back home following along—cheers. More to come. 

Until then, 

Ryan & Liam 

The Ocean Bois