You’re mid-ocean on a crossing and the captain has just confirmed the mounting fears of the last few days were well founded; the world as you know it is gone. A plague/asteroid-strike/machine-revolution/all-mom’s-went-on-strike has happened. The Internet has ceased to be. There’s no hashtagging this selfie sister, #yachtielife ain’t never gonna be the same.
Whoa there sailor, stow that life raft! We can survive this. There’s a good chance that the Facebook and Instagram servers are still running on their backup generators, if we can get there and find a USB connection…. snap out of it. It’s time you formed a plan.
As a yacht crewmember you have significant advantages at your disposal in your quest to survive and become the next Adam, Eve or Steve of mankind. Let’s evaluate.
Are you on a motor or sail yacht? If you’re on a sail yacht, do you know how to sail? If you answered yes to the first and no to the second, stop reading and lie down. It’s over.
If you answered sail to the first and yes to the second things are looking up. Were you raised on an extremely remote South Pacific Island with a year-round fresh water supply, abundant fruit, and indigenous population of scantily or at least suggestively clad women/men? If yes also stop reading, you don’t need this guide.
If you responded in some other combination of yes, no, or maybe, to these questions, you are going to need to overcome the hurdle of not having been raised in the South Pacific and make the most of this.
Carefully consider your options of where to head. A lush island without an airport is a good start. With no airport there is less chance of the plague/mom’s-on-strike having spread there. If the last news report received was anything along the lines of “they’re everywhere, there’s nowhere left that is safe garble garble, even Bora Bora is over run.”, you’re going to need to look at completely deserted islands for your colony.
That’s right, you’re going to make a colony. And conservation is the name of the game. If you’re sailing, no more engines. If you’re motoring better pull one back and go slow -ahead on just the other. Save that fuel for the annual movie night you’ll be having on your deserted island for the next fifty years.
You’re yachties; you’re used to being in a beautiful place but feeling tortured and conflicted and wishing you could just go home.
Start fishing. Build an armoury. Put anything that can be used as a weapon in there. Spear-guns, dividers, a stapler lashed to a boat hook, get tribal. Elect a leader. If you’re the captain assert your authority and say now more than ever the boat needs strong leadership and cannot dissolve into chaotic democracy. If you’re not the captain say the days of an overweight old guy telling you what to do just ended, Challenge the captain to a thumb war and win your rightful place as lead colonizer. Be careful how you pronounce that.
When you get to shore find the best possible protection for the yacht, drop two hooks, put out a web of shorelines and shut her down. Rename the island so it feels like yours and will confuse any other surviving sailors who happen by.
And start having babies. Your life expectancy just dropped by about forty years, and a bunch of you likely won’t make it through the season, think busy-charter period. You’re going to need replacements. Sounds bleak I know, but you can do this! You’re yachties; you’re used to being in a beautiful place but feeling tortured and conflicted and wishing you could just go home.
Simply put, failure is not an option. The future of mankind depends on your survival and procreation. Its come down to a wayward yacht crew to lead the way forward, forming a new race of not-bad-looking adventurous types with commitment issues.