Yacht crew are consummate professionals. But even pros sometimes have days when following the rules doesn’t quite work. Here are the stories you’d never tell the boss or the owner.
We all know the image our industry projects: immaculate stainless, sparkling smiles and champagne that flows smoother than the stabilizers. But behind that wrinkle-free façade there are duct-taped disasters, whispered lies and heroic improvisations that would make MacGyver proud.
After many years of hearing confessions from yacht crew all over the world, I’ve learned one thing: every “five-star experience” is fueled by caffeine, sarcasm and one crew member praying the guests don’t notice the superglue holding something vital together.
So, here they are: the stories that never make it into the brochure. Names have been changed to protect the innocent *cough* (myself included — don’t shoot the messenger). Identities may be fake but the stories? Well, they’re all true (or so I’m told).
The Little White Lies
Every yacht runs on a few harmless fabrications, the kind of fibs that hold civilization — and the breakfast buffet — together.
“When the guests demanded that ‘special vintage champagne’ we’d run out of, we poured cava into the right glasses, whispered ‘Grand Reserve,’ and they called it exquisite,” says second stew Poppy. How did you run out though, Poppy? “Funny story. Mixed it up with the crew booze. We accidentally drank half of it,” she shrugs.
Laundry stew Fiona got creative when a guest requested eucalyptus essence on the robes. She found a tub of Vicks VapoRub and added it to the dryer. “The robes smelled divine,” she says. “The crew mess smelled like a chemist.”
Engineer Steve recalls when the stabilizers died mid-Atlantic. “I told the guests we were ‘recalibrating.’ Technically true. I was recalibrating my will to live.”
Captains aren’t innocent either. “Once I delayed departure because my hangover couldn’t handle the swell,” Captain Dan says. “Told the guests we were ‘waiting for better tide conditions.’ The tide of nausea, mostly.”
Great Guest Mysteries
No one prepares you for the bizarre things some guests leave behind.
Deckhand Natalia found an urn in a wardrobe. “It had a name on it. The captain called the guests [who’d left] and they told us they’d meant to do a burial at sea for him but forgot. Asked us to do it and send photos.”
Chief stew Mel recalls, “After a huge party at the Monaco Grand Prix, we found several phones, sunglasses, a Rolex and a blow-up male sex doll. We called him Derek.” Who left Derek? “Everything else was claimed but nobody came for poor Derek. Nobody knows who brought him on board, or why he was abandoned,” she says, sadly. “So he became a crew mascot; he’s done two Atlantic crossings and has a crew uniform. Derek’s great for morale and sits in the crew mess during charters.”
Speaking of adult activities, first mate Charlie says it’s not unusual to catch the owner in the act on deck. “We usually just radio everyone to steer clear of wherever they’re at it. The only thing is, it’s not usually with his wife.” Oh? “One time we had to interrupt him, to warn him that madame would be arriving shortly. Chopper pilot had called us. His friend was fuming. She threw his laptop and phone off the bow. We had to hide her in the tender garage and keep her quiet until the Mrs was safely below deck, then sneak her back to shore. And yes, we had a lot of code words for radio calls. No, I’m not sharing those.”
Pranks and Payback
Every yacht is a floating madhouse with a god-tier sense of humor. “We cling-filmed the captain’s toilet,” bosun Brad says. “He saw the funny side… eventually. After the shower.”
Deckhands filled the Dyson with glitter. “It looked like Studio 54 every time we cleaned,” stew Emma says. “So we spiked their shower gel with blue food coloring. They looked like Smurfs for days.”
Captain Sean admits he once lost the owner’s dog ashore during refueling. “Told them the deckhand was giving him a nice long walk. Found him in the capitainerie eating someone’s sandwich. Sent the office flowers and a signed photo of the dog as an apology.”
Deckhand Deano left an unwrapped Cadbury Picnic chocolate bar in a guest’s bed to prank the stews. If you’re not sure what it looks like, Google it.
Sometimes, the jokes backfire. “We swapped out the crew coffee for decaf to calm everyone down,” officer Stuart says. “By day two, half the boat was in tears and the other half ready to mutiny. Never again.”
On the subject of swapping, mate Sheryl says, “I was on a very health-conscious boat. All the guys were on protein shakes to bulk up and all the girls were on diet shakes to keep slim. I swapped them. The guys lost weight and the girls gained. I left before coming clean. They’ll never know.”
Galley Confessions
“The galley’s where souls go to die and sauces go to split,” chef Joe says.
Mystery soups? “Oh yeah,” chef Marie says. “It’s just leftovers from three days ago blitzed into a Provençal bisque with a bit of fish stock.”
Guests with impossible dietary needs? “I once made a vegan, gluten-free, sugar-free crème brûlée,” chef Jodie says. “It was coconut yogurt with a suntan. They licked the ramekins clean.”
Chef Andy burned the croissants and salvaged them with a straight face: “Told the guests: caramelized pastries, inspired by rustic bakeries of southern France, where my mother grew up,” he says. “My mum’s from Sydney.”
Chef Luke once discovered the oven thermostat was broken mid-charter. “So I cooked dinner using a hairdryer and an iron. The stew held the iron. It was teamwork and trauma.”
Things We Pretend Aren’t Our Fault
“The tender didn’t hit the dock,” deckhand Leo says. “The dock hit the tender. It came out of nowhere.”
Stacey hoovered up the owner’s engagement ring. “I heard the clink, froze and pretended nothing happened. Cried at the engineer to help me dissect the vacuum at midnight. Found it stuck to a toenail in the filter. Polished it. Returned it before she knew it was missing. Engineer got daily coffee deliveries for the rest of the season.”
Sometimes we fake a system failure. “When the guests demanded karaoke for the fifth night in a row, I told them the sound system had ‘overheated,’” confesses Captain Sue. “I pulled the plug. The chef calls it ‘The Great Peace Treaty of Ibiza.’”
Ones That Nearly Broke Us
Some jobs simply chew you up and spit you out in uniform.
“Owner walked in mid-refit wearing loafers and asked for tea on the sundeck,” chief stew Marcus says. “We had no walls. No kettle. I served builder’s tea in a measuring jug. He said it was ‘authentic.’”
Bosun Jazmine recalls a 48-hour beach party. “By the second sunrise, the engineer was hallucinating, the chef was crying into the hummus and the guests were still demanding margaritas. We kept ourselves going with tequila slammers and Red Bull in the laz.”
Chief stew Carly will never forget finding a stew silently crying into a perfectly folded towel. “Then she refolded it and carried on. That’s dedication.”
Then there was the foam incident. “Someone poured the wrong detergent into the jacuzzi,” engineer Caz says. “Looked like the set of a 1990s rave. Guests loved it. We pretended it was on purpose and cranked the music.”
Morale, Mayhem and Magic
When morale dips, crew get creative. “When you’ve been anchored in the same bay for three weeks, everyone loses the plot,” Captain Harry says. “Engineer faked an air-con breakdown so the crew could have a few hours with guests off — we sent them ashore for dinner while we solved the problem. The guests called it ‘heroic troubleshooting.’ We were actually dancing in the galley.”
Chief officer Billy admits, “We have a secret ‘code green’ for when someone’s about to lose their mind. It means: drop what you’re doing, meet in the crew mess and eat chocolate immediately. It’s saved lives. We tried calling it a code brown, but everyone thought someone had shit themselves.”
Some rebellions are low-stakes. “We once renamed every playlist on the bridge iPad,” stew Emma says. “‘Chill Sunset Beats’ became ‘Existential Crisis in C Minor.’ The guests loved it. The captain still hasn’t noticed.”
Sometimes, morale means petty vengeance. “We were told no drinks until turnover was done,” bosun Jason says. “So we hid a bottle of prosecco in the linen cupboard. It’s now known as the Champagne Locker. Every yacht should have one.”
The Final Confession
Ask any yachtie if they’ve ever lied, snapped or hidden in the bilge with a bottle of Whispering Angel, and they’ll swear blind they haven’t. Then they’ll grin — because of course they have.
“We’re professionals,” Annie says, “but also professional liars, therapists, janitors and magicians.”
“You can’t survive this job if you take it too seriously,” Marie says. “You’ll lose your mind somewhere between the fifth vegan canapé request and the sixth guest who ‘doesn’t like water that’s too wet.’”
Perfection’s a performance, every trip an opening night. Behind the curtain, it’s duct tape, caffeine and panic, but from the guests’ side, it’s flawless.
So if you’re a guest reading this from a sunbed, wondering how we make it look so easy… just smile. Also, clear off and read BOAT International — you’re not meant to be seeing this.