Our yacht was in its element. With sunshine gleaming off the chestnut spars and a north-northeasterly fattening the sails, Windsong ripped across the mere, cocked at a jaunty angle, kicking up waves of joy. It was like a wild horse galloping through surf, ebullient, powerful and graceful. Only this “wild horse” was under the control of skipper Els Robinson and, to a far, far lesser extent, me. When the cry of “Come about!” came about, my jobs were to trim the jib (the small triangular sail at the front, I’d just learned) and not get hit by the boom. Oh, and to enjoy the ride.
I’d come to the Norfolk Broads to join a women’s Wellbeing on the Water weekend. I grew up on the Broads. In fact, I grew up just across the fields from Upton Dyke, where Eastwood Whelpton sailing holidays is based. But I never sailed. I didn’t know anyone who did, so it never crossed my mind that I could.
“Our ethos is to make sailing accessible to everyone,” explained Suzy Strowger, the company’s office manager. “Sailing has been perceived elitist, and has been largely male dominated. Our women’s weekends are about making sailing affordable and accessible to a demographic that’s under-represented at the moment.”
Sailing is more than moving a boat, Suzy added: “It’s a wellbeing activity that can particularly benefit women.” She sees women with full-time caring roles or high-pressure jobs come along, looking to support their health and manage stress.
Sailing has been perceived elitist, and has been largely male dominated. Our women’s weekends are about making sailing accessible to an under-represented demographic Suzy Strowger
The weekend certainly got off to a stress-free start, as we met each other over prosecco and cake in the boatyard. There were 15 of us: some solos, some in pairs, mostly 45-plus, ranging in ability from competent to rusty to total beginner, and here for different reasons.
For Katharine, it was about “having a new experience and getting away from life in general”. Jo was on her third Eastwood Whelpton trip: “I just enjoy the peace of getting out on the water.” Helen was drawn to the idea “because too often men take the helm – and there’s something special about adventuring with other women, isn’t there?”
The writer learning the ropes: ‘I took a turn at the helm, concentrating on not steering into the banks, boathouses or other yachts.’ Photograph: Sarah Baxter
There clearly is. Women-only travel – particularly active travel – is on the rise, and companies are cottoning on. According to the Adventure Travel Trade Association’s 2024 Industry Outlook report, of the companies taking steps to diversify their target markets, 38% are targeting women; “women over 50 travelling solo” was flagged as a specific trend. Also, more larger tour operators are now offering women-only departures while specialist companies are seeing increased demand: for example, when WalkingWomen launched in 2021, it offered 31 female-only small-group hiking holidays; this year its programme features more than 70.
An all-female environment tends to encourage women to push their limits, especially when the guides are women too. On this Norfolk weekend, our group was split across a flotilla of five boats, each one helmed by a female skipper – which is far more unusual than it should be in 2025. The skippers seemed as excited about that as we were.
Jo and I were buddied up and allocated to Windsong, a traditional, 30ft (nine-metre) gaff-rigged yacht, crafted in the 1980s by a Norfolk boat builder, and an absolute beaut. It has sleek wooden insides, an ingenious pop-top and numerous drawers and cubbyholes (which Suzy had stuffed full of food). One of the first conversations Jo and I had was about who was most likely to pee in the night (she took the bed squeezed into the bow, next to the hand-pump loo; I slept in the main saloon). You have to bond quickly when living in close quarters.
Els, our skipper, was commander-in-chief of the whole fleet. Before we hauled anchor, she unrolled a map and explained the plan for the weekend. First we’d motor the short distance to Thurne and moor up for the night; we’d spend Saturday sailing to Horsey, where a windpump (a windmill used to pump water) rises from coastal marshland once known as Devil’s Country; we’d sail back on Sunday. Mixed in would be boat breakfasts, picnic lunches and pub dinners, plus a few leisurely walks, some morning yoga, and an optional sea swim.
Some women come on wellbeing weekends to refresh their skills, others to read books and drink gin
I liked boat life immediately. We drifted down mazy channels, looked across the vastness of reeds, spotted herons, marsh harriers on the hunt, even an osprey – one of the pair that arrived at nearby Ranworth Broad this spring. It was a bit of a moving meditation, too. The speed limit never exceeds 6mph; sometimes it’s just 3mph. “Life today is so go, go, go,” Els reflected, steering us towards Thurne’s restored windmill. “We need to slow down sometimes.”
Watching Els at work was part of the joy: she was calm, intuitive, in total symbiosis with the boat. It was tempting to let her get on with it, but she was keen for us to try, but only if we wanted to.
I took a turn at the helm, concentrating on not steering into the banks, the boathouses, the other yachts or the regal black-sailed Norfolk wherry that glided by. I helped hoist the sails, lower the sails and hoist them again, learned about reefing and rudimentary knots, and assisted with bringing down the mast so we could just about scrape under Potter Heigham’s medieval bridge.
Eastwood Whelpton runs official Royal Yachting Association sailing courses, but the wellbeing weekends are quite different. According to Suzy, some women come to refresh their skills, others to read books and drink gin.
A grey heron above the reed beds of the Norfolk broads. Photograph: Geoff du Feu/Alamy
Speaking of which, after a day on the water, cheeks ruddied by sun and wind, we moored at Horsey for “anchor drams” (cocktails), then took a walk over the marsh to the dunes. Some 3,245 grey seal pups were born here last winter. On the beach itself, a lone seal popped up from the grey-green surf to say hello.
Three of us stripped to our swimmers to join it. It was chilly, choppy and frustratingly shallow, but made me realise that I never regret a sea dip. The biggest challenge was getting changed afterwards: the north wind blew away my towel and my dignity. But did it matter? We were, after all, all girls together here.
We ended up in the Nelson Head, a proper old pub; a sign inside read “We don’t have wifi – talk to each other”. Which we did, sharing stories about how life has changed (or not) for women over recent years. The ladies spoke of having mothers who thought marriage and babies were all they could achieve, and of how their own daughters think they’re boring but don’t see the barriers they’ve broken down. Johanna threw in her graduation story: she came top of her (mostly male) class at London Business School but “when the chairman gave me my certificate and shook my hand, said, ‘I love to see a smiling blonde!’”
That night, as the night before, I slept in dozes, lullabied by Windsong’s gurgles, slurps, creaks and groans. I woke early, and crept out into a chorus of blackbirds, redstarts, warblers and cuckoos. At 7.30am there would be a yoga session under a tree, but I wasn’t sure how much more relaxed it could make me. I hadn’t become a skilled sailor, but I had thoroughly enjoyed this maidens’ voyage.
The trip was provided by Eastwood Whelpton. Its next Women on the Water Wellbeing Weekends start 12 Sept and 15 May 2026, from £433pp. Places are also available on women-only boats on its Norfolk Race Week (5-10 Oct, from £705pp)