Absolutely. Well, let’s start with the first question: what do you love about being a superyacht captain?
I am empowered and trusted to literally make dreams come true. That’s why I’ve spent the last 30 years focusing on being a charter captain rather than working exclusively for one family. The excitement, the adventure, and the opportunity to meet incredible people all come with the role. The common thread is that they have a dream—they want to go somewhere special on a boat, with family and friends, and create memories. So, they call me. We develop a plan, and then they trust me—with their money, their family, their friends, their children, and their time. My responsibility is to deliver on that trust, and not screw it up.
That’s huge.
Yes. To be able to take someone’s dreams, make a few notes, and then, at the end of a week, hear them say, “That was amazing”—that’s incredibly rewarding. These are people who already have access to anything they want at the drop of a hat, yet what they just experienced with us stands out as something extraordinary. That’s when I say to the crew, “We did it.” To be at the center of that is amazing. I remember one charter client who booked the yacht for a week, then immediately booked another week, and then a third consecutive week. He simply didn’t want to get off.
Eventually, we had to split a week between him and the new owner, who had previously been a charter client himself and then purchased the yacht. Both wanted to use it at the same time. Halfway through, I’d gotten to know the client better. He was at least a generation younger than me, born in Iran, educated in England, and living in the Netherlands. That week, he was traveling with his family doctor, family banker, and another close associate—men his father’s age, closer to mine. One evening at dinner, he asked me, “Do you really like this?
You’re good at your job—I’ve been on a lot of boats, and you really seem to enjoy it.” I told him, “If I won the lottery tomorrow, I’d buy a yacht, but I wouldn’t tell anyone. I’d hire a partner as a front, and I’d still be doing exactly what I’m doing now—captaining. Maybe I’d adjust my schedule a little, but I’d still want to sit down with fascinating people like you, visit beautiful places, and have these conversations. What better job could there be?” He laughed and said, “Do you realize what a bold statement that was, Captain?
Am I talking to the owner of the yacht or the captain?” I told him, “Behave yourself, Danny. We’ll see how this goes.” But he was right—that passion is why I’m good at what I do. Even if I had unlimited money, this is what I’d still be doing. Of course, I’d spend more time with my wife and child if I owned the yacht, but in terms of work, this is exactly where I’d want to be. There just aren’t enough days in the year to do more of it.
Definitely. Okay, let’s move to the next topic. What recent changes have you seen in the superyacht industry, say, in the last five years—post-COVID, but not necessarily because of it?
The trends? There’s been a greater emphasis on newer, bigger, and more advanced yachts, yes. But the one resource that can’t be replaced so easily is the human element. Since COVID, many people rethought their traditional paths. There’s been a shift—more people are taking risks, trying something different. For some, that means chartering a yacht. For others, buying one. For crew, it might mean deciding to pursue this lifestyle instead of following in their parents’ footsteps. COVID was a wake-up call: get off the couch, do something different. That’s been the big change.
More people are getting out there, both on the client side and the crew side. But it’s also highlighted something important—success in this industry requires more than just technical skills and training. You need what I call mental fitness. Yes. Being healthy at home, in your routine, is one thing. But when you suddenly leave that comfort zone—say, to run a marathon or play rugby for the first time—it’s a whole different level of challenge. Without preparation, it’s overwhelming.
I know this from experience; when I first stepped onto a rugby pitch decades ago, it was rough, violent, anxiety-inducing, and I quickly realized how unprepared I was. That’s the same for young crew today. They may think their technical skills are enough, but without mental fitness, the transition can be jarring. So those of us already in the industry are trying to “circle the wagons” around them—asking how we can better equip and prepare this new generation for what’s ahead.
I see. And as a teacher myself, I know schools don’t necessarily provide that preparation.
Exactly. Modern education prepares young people for a certain type of society, but not necessarily for the demands of this industry. When I was a kid in the 1960s, for example, we weren’t allowed in the house all day. We’d be outside until the bell rang at dinner. That upbringing gave us resilience and adaptability that many young people today haven’t been asked to develop. Back when I was a kid, you’d head out for the day, bringing firewood or coal along with whatever else you needed. It was a different world.
Today, we send young crew offshore, place them among strangers, and expect them to handle immense challenges. It’s unfair to assume they’ll automatically be up to the task. What we see instead is burnout—at an accelerated rate—even among good people. I’ll digress for a moment. Years ago, I worked for Club Med. I didn’t really know what I was getting into, but I discovered it was the largest hotel chain in the world, recruiting people globally. On my first assignment, there were 120 of us, representing 26 or 27 nationalities and nine religions. And suddenly, I was asked to chair a meeting.
I thought, How on earth do I do this? The answer was: find common ground. Focus on what unites people, build from there, and create bonds that transcend culture. So, back to trends in yachting—I’ve seen a growing awareness that we need to better support new crew. Without action, the industry risks becoming unsustainable.
So, looking ahead, what challenges will the superyacht industry need to solve in the next ten years?
retaining qualified crew. We must make this career attractive compared to the opportunities available back home. Recruitment is another major challenge. Shipyards like Lürssen and Feadship have been raising the same question at forums: “Who will operate the yachts we’re building today, when they’re delivered in three or four years?” If we were talking about building a $50 million factory, the leadership team would already be in place long before construction began. Department heads would be hired, trained, and actively recruiting staff.
But with a $50 or $100 million yacht, we might have only a couple of consulting engineers, perhaps a captain or first officer, and if we’re lucky, a chief engineer. That’s not enough. So, the three big issues are: retention, recruitment, and leadership development. Too often, we focus only on senior officers as leaders. In reality, leadership needs to be fostered at every level, even among entry-level crew. Everyone should learn to lead themselves, think critically, and manage challenges rationally. Right now, many people default to emotional thinking.
That works for a while, but without balance, it leads to anxiety, depression, and frustration. Teaching critical thinking is essential. As an educator, you know how important that is—it can’t just be about cramming information for tests. It has to be about equipping young professionals with tools they can actually use. Years ago, the MCA commissioned Arthur D. Little to conduct a major study, which resulted in a guide called Leading for Safety.
It outlined practical steps for leadership development in yachting, including the concept of “tough empathy”—the ability to care while holding people accountable. Without accountability, trust breaks down. And in our industry, with the risks involved—whether environmental, financial, or human—trust must be authentic. Right now, too much of the industry runs on momentum, without enough authentic leadership. To change that, we need to show crew that there’s a real career path, with clear progression.
For example, someone can work their way to a Master 3000 Oceans license without the enormous expense of a university degree. They’ll spend far less on training and earn while they learn. That’s an opportunity few other industries can offer—but we need to do a better job of communicating it.
That’s powerful. So, moving on—what new trends in superyacht design and technology are affecting day-to-day operations?
One big trend is a greater emphasis on creating better living environments…
what new trends in design and technology are affecting day-to-day operations?
One of the biggest changes is the living environment onboard. Technology and communications have made it much easier for crew to stay connected with their families and friends back home. When my wife and I were first married, we spent our first year apart—she was working in the oilfields, and I was on a boat in the Bahamas just after 9/11. Back then, communication meant agreeing to tune into a certain high-frequency radio band at a set time, hoping we could fit our conversation in between commercial traffic.
Sometimes we had to wait for Ukrainian freighters to finish their chatter before we could speak. That was our reality. Compare that to now—it’s a completely different world. Today, constant contact is possible. That builds comfort and confidence, especially for younger crew who expect seamless communication. If we set aside the distortions of social media—which we’ll get to later—and instead focus on the positive potential of technology, it has tremendous benefits. Just the other day, I walked into the crew mess on the yacht I’m temporarily running.
The lights were dimmed, and on the TV they had a virtual fireplace burning, logs crackling away. The crew were gathered around, chatting like they were back home in a living room. I thought, “Nice move. This couldn’t have happened 20 years ago.” Technology allows people to recreate the comforts of home even when they’re halfway across the world. Beyond that, technology has improved equipment reliability and safety. Paint lasts longer, decks and fabrics are more durable, and workplace hazards are reduced.
What my generation would have considered luxuries—like comfortable beds with clean sheets—are now basic standards. Those things make a huge difference to crew morale. I’ve seen junior crew who’ve endured tough conditions elsewhere come onboard and realize, “Wow, it doesn’t have to be miserable.” That can turn someone into a long-term professional instead of someone who burns out and leaves the industry. Overall, technology is making the workplace more appealing. It’s one reason I’ve never wanted to change careers.
what about the most challenging elements of your job—have they changed over time?
For me, the biggest challenge is staying relevant. That applies both to crew and to owners. If I don’t understand the “currency” my crew and clients are trading in today—what matters to them—I become irrelevant, no matter how many licenses I hold or how much experience I have. The license, the title, the ticket—they aren’t enough on their own. What really matters is relevance: understanding today while also preparing for tomorrow. If I rely only on old tools and outdated approaches, I’ll eventually go extinct, and all the experience I’ve gained will be wasted.
That’s why I challenge captains of my generation: don’t just retire quietly to a cabin in North Carolina. Give something back before you go. Share your knowledge. Mentor. Contribute to the database of “dos and don’ts” so younger professionals don’t have to reinvent the wheel. This is starting to happen now in ways it never did before. Recently, about thirty of us gathered in a video call—captains, managers, representatives from the PYA, people across the industry. Out of that came the Crew Safety Forum, an action group focused on practical solutions.
Christophe, one of the participants, said, “This is exactly what we were hoping for—sharing ideas and turning them into action.” Another initiative worth noting is the Superyacht Alliance. It’s focused on practical outcomes too—not just endless “talky-talky” meetings, but real steps, accountability, and deadlines. Similarly, within the PYA, we’ve recently formed an Onboard Safety Committee. One outcome has been webinars and forums from BZ Training, making safety knowledge widely accessible.
I can now tell junior crew, “Watch this short podcast, read this article—this will help you tomorrow.”That’s progress. The key is to turn associations and committees into action-driven groups. Then we’re not just talking, we’re preparing people better for the realities of the job. At the end of the day, the better prepared crew are, the more they’ll enjoy their work, the longer they’ll stay, and the stronger our industry will be. That’s what makes it sustainable—not just technology or regulations, but investing in people.
That ties directly into crew development. Do you have more thoughts on the mindset and skill sets of today’s crew?
Yes. As a relief captain, I step into different programs often. Right now, for example, we’re losing one of our junior deckhands—she’s amazing, but she’s moving on to other things in her life. That means I’ll need to recruit someone new. What I’ve been doing with the crew is talking about succession planning. I ask them to put something in writing—just a few lines on a piece of paper counts as a plan. Where do you want to be in a year? Do you want to stay in this role, move departments, or pursue something else? Write it down, and we’ll build from there. That’s the kind of mindset shift I try to instill: don’t just drift, have a plan. Even if it’s short, it’s a start.
You mentioned succession planning with crew. How do you encourage them to think about their own development?
I ask them to start simple. Write something down. Even if it’s just three lines on a piece of paper, that’s called a plan. Where do you want to be a year from now? Do you want to stay in your current role, move to another department, or take on something different? Write it down, and we’ll build from there. The power of that small act is extraordinary. Millions of books and TED Talks have been produced about goal setting, but sometimes it’s just as simple as making a note and committing to it. Unfortunately, not enough people are taught to do that.
Have you noticed any differences in mindset or outlook among the newer generation of crew?
Yes, absolutely. I can compare them to another group I work with—I’m also a Scoutmaster, responsible for a couple dozen boys between the ages of 10 and 18. I’m in charge of training them, keeping them safe, and influencing their decision-making. I can’t just tell them what to do; I have to be there as they learn. My role is to be the backstop—someone who says, “You can do this. If it gets tough, I’m proof you’ll get through.” With new crew, many haven’t had much work experience. Some haven’t been active in their communities, sports, or social groups.
It’s very easy for them to get stuck in the digital world of screens and social media. But the reality of this job is the physical world—weather, seas, heat, cold. You need to be comfortable living in that space, and some recruits are not used to it. In the past, people came into yachting because they had a passion for boats and the lifestyle. They already knew how to sail, swim, and handle themselves around water. They came with a duffel bag and a sense of adventure. Today, motivations are often different.
Many are attracted by the pay, the travel, or simply the opportunity to work in a safe, well-paying environment. I’d estimate that half of new applicants can’t swim confidently. Yet they’re applying for jobs surrounded by water. That shift in motivation changes everything. The older generation of industry leaders and brokers came into yachting because of passion. Today, for many, it’s about financial opportunity. That’s not necessarily bad, but it means we have to adapt. Instead of complaining about how “our day” was different, we need to focus on this generation’s reality.
We need to make the industry relevant to them, show them a path forward, and teach them good decision-making so they can succeed.
how do you personally handle the “pressure cooker” of guest environments—conflicts, morale, and difficult situations onboard?
I’ve dealt with plenty of challenging guests. Brokers sometimes call and say, “We’ve got a tough one. Can you handle it?” And not every captain can. Personality traits matter. Just as law enforcement attracts certain types of people, so does education, or hospitality. Not everyone is suited for every situation. A classic example from my career was when Sir Hillary de Rothschild and his entourage chartered my yacht. They were used to chartering a larger Fedship every year, but one year, through Edmiston, they booked with us—a smaller 135-foot yacht.
From the moment they arrived, I could see the mismatch. The second-in-command, a Hollywood producer, stepped off the plane and immediately asked, “Where’s the rest of the boat?” At dinner that first night, complaints escalated quickly—about the service style, the cuts of beef, you name it. The producer loudly declared that our filet was “monkey meat.” That’s when I knew I had to take control. After dinner, I pulled him aside privately with my first officer. I listened to everything he had to say, taking notes. It was important that he felt validated, even if I disagreed.
Then I calmly laid out boundaries: “I can fix the service and I’ll ensure tomorrow’s beef is flawless. But I cannot make the boat 30 feet longer. And I will not allow my crew to be disrespected like that again. If it happens, I will put you off the boat—even between Christmas and New Year’s.” It was a high-stakes moment, but it worked. He understood. We shook hands on an agreement to work through issues constructively, and the rest of the trip was manageable. That experience reinforced the value of conflict resolution training.
It’s not something most captains are taught formally, but it should be. Role-playing, learning tone and body language, understanding how to validate someone without escalating—that’s a skill set that keeps both guests and crew safe. Honestly, we should be producing short, practical videos for crew on these topics—conflict resolution, emotional resilience, dealing with loss or stress. Instead of TikTok distractions, why not feed them something useful? Imagine a YouTube Shorts series from Triton or PYA on real onboard scenarios. That would be a powerful mentoring tool.
That’s a great point. So you see technology and media as part of the solution too?
Exactly. Platforms like PYA are already putting out webinars and training sessions. Chop those into engaging short-form content and we’d have an incredible mentoring resource. It’s all about packaging the knowledge so the next generation actually consumes it.
How do you manage crew expectations right from the start?
I give them a guidebook—a user manual for life onboard. I send it out even before recruitment is finalised. I say, “Before you come over here, read this. This is how we play ball.” Most of it is standard boilerplate—hours of work, conditions, things that get condensed into the SEA agreement—but I highlight the important parts. I’ll tell them: “Circle what you don’t like and we’ll talk about it.” The point is to make sure they understand what they’re stepping into. I tell them, “This isn’t gridiron. This is rugby. That’s how we play.” That way, when the job feels tough, they can’t say, “I didn’t think it would be this hard.” They knew up front.
it’s really about setting expectations. Anything else for retention?
Yes—benefits. Taking anxiety off the crew’s plate is key. Provide good food, good health insurance, and preventive care. Make sure they know their medical needs will be looked after. Provide clothing or allowances where possible. The fewer distractions they have, the more they can focus on the job. Rotation is another big one. In the oil field and commercial shipping, rotation is normal. It’s finally catching on in yachting. Having a bench of relief crew may cost a little more, but it saves massively compared to rehiring and retraining from scratch.
Bringing in someone who already knows the program is far less disruptive. And most importantly—crew need to know the leadership has their back. If they trust that, they’ll stay. If they feel the captain, the broker, or the DPA (Designated Person Ashore) isn’t trustworthy, retention suffers. Unfortunately, many DPAs today haven’t spent time at sea—they’ve never stood a watch or scrubbed a deck—so crew don’t feel they can relate to them. The original intent of the role was for experienced mariners transitioning ashore. That spirit has been lost.
what about dealing with unexpected guest requirements, especially when they push against the rules?
That’s always a challenge. Most high-net-worth individuals don’t get to where they are by following rules. Entertainers break the mold, corporate leaders bend regulations or hire lobbyists to rewrite them. So, yes—they often test boundaries. My approach is to stick to hard facts: safety and consequences. I tell them, “My job is to keep you safe and to avoid undue attention from local law enforcement.” I’ve cancelled trips before because of misbehaviour, and I’ve tolerated some when it stayed within acceptable limits. But I’m always clear about the risks.
For example, during COVID, I had guests who wanted to bring in an extra friend on New Year’s Eve in St. Barts. Immigration rules required proper clearance, but they tried to sneak her in on a private boat. I ended up standing on the dock with gendarmes and customs officers waiting for her arrival, only to discover she’d been dropped off offshore and smuggled aboard. It turned out to be Steve Jobs’ daughter. I had to sit her down and explain: “Right now, I’m technically involved in human trafficking. You are here illegally.
This could shut down your entire holiday.” She genuinely had no idea—it showed me how insulated this younger generation of ultra-wealthy can be.
Do you see a difference between older and younger generations of UHNW guests?
Definitely. The previous generation often had to fight their way up—they were street smart, used to consequences. The younger ones have grown up more insulated, shielded by technology and wealth. They’re less aware of risks, so part of our role is to set boundaries for them. I’ve had amazing trips with entertainers—Mariah Carey, Justin Timberlake, Jessica Biel—great guests who were respectful and fun. But I’ve also had experiences where expectations were unrealistic, and we had to manage them carefully. It all comes back to communication.
We need to help them understand: “Here are the boundaries. Inside them, you’ll have an incredible experience. Outside them, there are consequences.” Sometimes that’s as simple as showing them a French law enforcement team arriving at the stern with dogs during a spot-check. Nothing changes the mood of a charter faster than that. I’ve even hired off-duty French Foreign Legionnaires to quietly stand watch when I knew guests were pushing limits. That small investment set the right tone and avoided bigger problems.
Fascinating. Switching gears—what about regulations and compliance? How has that changed over your career?
“I used to drive boats, now I’m an administrator.” But the truth is, captains were always meant to be administrators as well as seafarers. We’re custodians of our crew, our guests, and the environment. Yes, there’s more paperwork today. Organisations like the ILO and IMO have defined more standards, and flag states have translated them into requirements. That’s not a bad thing. Without rules and definitions, we’d have chaos. The sea itself is already chaotic and unpredictable—we need structure to balance that.
Regulations are often seen as adding more administration. How do you look at them?
Regulations are just part of the job. If you’re a blacksmith, you learn not to hit your fingers with the hammer. If you’re a seafarer, you learn not to put your hand in the forge. Same thing—rules are there for a reason. They actually make my job easier. They give me a framework, a set of rules of engagement. I embrace that. Where we fall short as an industry is in teaching why those rules exist and how to apply them. I’ve had to do a lot of that myself—through the Coast Guard Auxiliary, through running commercial vessels.
I know the spirit of the regulations, even if I don’t know every single clause. At the end of the day, as captain, I’m the CEO of the operation. Whether the budget is $1 million a year or $50 million, it’s still my responsibility to minimise risk. The flag states and classification societies don’t invent these requirements out of nowhere—they come from the insurance companies, the people with something to lose.
what about the environmental side—where’s the vested interest there?
Some of it is national—countries protecting their own shorelines and waters. They don’t want pollution washing up, so they push it out. That’s the straightforward part. The harder part is the atmosphere—emissions don’t stop at borders. That’s where it becomes about awareness and responsibility. We’re custodians of the environment. Technology is moving fast—scientists and engineers are constantly developing better systems. But the real challenge is space. We need larger engine rooms to fit all the new equipment.
For example, I’m working now on reducing a vessel’s SEA Index rating with Lloyd’s Register. The owner’s keen—he’s part of SeaKeepers, wants to do the right thing. But the first question is always: “How much do you want to spend?” If you’re serious, I can build you a hydrogen-powered sailing yacht that makes its own fuel from seawater. But if you want to keep 20-knot diesel engines, then we have to retrofit filters and systems into an engine room that wasn’t designed for them. Sometimes the tool just isn’t right for the job.
the regulations aren’t always effective?
They’re stepping stones. Without the early rules, we wouldn’t have hybrid drives or fuel cells today. Regulations force the industry to innovate, even if imperfectly. I’ve told owners: if you’re willing to go 16 knots instead of 20, I can improve your SEA Index rating. You won’t get money back—it’s not about that. It’s about pride, reputation, social responsibility. You’ll burn less fuel, save costs, and have more time to enjoy your journey.
What would you do to make superyachts more sustainable?
We’re already on the path. It’s an evolution. Data and monitoring technology allow us to predict failures, track fuel burn, and adjust performance. That’s sustainability—moving from reaction to prediction. Engines last longer, systems run cleaner. Think of cars—engines used to need rebuilding at 40,000 miles. Now they last 240,000. The same is happening in yachting. Technology, materials science, and engineering keep driving us forward. I don’t see us going backwards. Nobody’s bringing back two-stroke engines. Big ships still run them, but with sophisticated systems to capture and reburn emissions—not because of environmental altruism, but because owners want lower unit costs. Either way, it pushes efficiency forward.
what about broader technology on board—how has it changed your role?
Technology has transformed the job. Productivity is way up. I can multitask, manage a broader scope, and store everything digitally instead of lugging around boxes of paperwork. Crew cabins are bigger because we don’t need to store filing cabinets anymore. The danger was when technology was introduced faster than training. Twenty years ago, integrated bridges overwhelmed crews—too many screens, too much data. People didn’t understand the overlays, and accidents happened. That’s why flag states and insurers now insist you’re certified on navigation systems before standing a watch. The Andrea Doria sinking is a classic case—the crew misunderstood the radar. It’s the same today: technology is only as good as the training behind it.
cybersecurity?
That’s a parallel universe to yacht operations. You have hotel services, plant services, and then a whole digital ecosystem. Every guest has different expectations. Some bring their own security “bubble”—their own IT and communications system. Others expect the yacht to provide it. On one Fedship project, I worked closely with security consultants because the owner had no idea how vulnerable they were. Today, you can’t get a drone in the air in Gustavia at Christmas—that’s deliberate.
And I’ve seen guests bring suitcases full of encrypted communications gear, running entirely separate from the yacht’s systems. On the other hand, I’ve installed firewalls and monitoring devices that showed me every user, every connection, every attempt to hack in. Once, my crew got their phones hacked at a Starbucks, came back on board, and the attackers piggybacked on our satellite. With the right tech, we caught it, blocked it, and restored bandwidth. It comes down to investment. You can spend $89 on a router or thousands on high-grade systems.
But in many cases, high-net-worth guests don’t want me involved at all—they bring their own cyber-protection.
What about autonomy—do you see a role for unmanned systems?
Absolutely. My own son got his FAA license for unmanned aerial vehicles at age 10. The technology is there. For yachts, it can handle most hazards—other vessels, marine life, sandbars. I recently worked on a U.S. Marines project developing an autonomous resupply vessel. It was inspired by narco-subs—long, low-profile craft designed for stealth and range. The prototype had to carry 25,000 kilos, travel 1,000 miles, and operate with or without remote monitoring. We had Navy officers, Caterpillar engineers, Garmin and Simrad reps, naval architects—all in one room, refining the design.
It’s not science fiction. It’s happening. The problem with public perception is that the positive stories rarely make headlines. Take the Bayesian—the owner and his family had years of wonderful experiences, thousands of miles at sea, countless memories. But do we hear about any of that? No. Instead, the news only picks up when something goes wrong. When Tom Perkins built the Maltese Falcon, that was impossible to miss. It was spectacular—like a spaceship on the water. People drove for hours just to see it.
But beyond the one-off marvels, nobody is telling the stories that would actually inspire people. We should be highlighting engineering feats, historic ships like the Great Britain in Bristol—Brunel’s masterpiece, full of innovations that shaped modern shipbuilding. Instead, one collision in the Solent dominates headlines for months. That’s on us—we have only ourselves to blame.
is there anything we can do to change that public perception?
Absolutely. We need to decide to change the narrative. Look back through history—the Magna Carta, the birth of Parliament, even the U.S. Declaration of Independence. Those all came from people gathering, admitting what wasn’t working, and agreeing on new rules to live by. The superyacht industry needs its own version of that—a code of conduct, maybe even an oath. Without FIFA, soccer would be chaos. Without rules, rugby and soccer would be indistinguishable. We don’t yet have that in yachting.
Yes, we have labour codes and IMO regulations, but we don’t have a shared code of conduct for how we work together as professionals. When I became a Scoutmaster, one of the most important things was the shared oath. Every Scout agrees to it; it’s unifying. Imagine if, at the Monaco Yacht Show, the industry stood together and recited an oath—a statement of values, professionalism, and ethics. Right now, we don’t have that. Until we do, we’re just a group of individuals improvising.
if you could change one thing, it would be to introduce an oath for the industry?
Yes—a code and an oath. That would define our future actions. Without it, we’re just Neanderthals scrambling around the fire.
Brilliant. A couple of housekeeping things before we finish. We’ll get the transcript cleaned up and send it back. You’ll be listed as a contributor. Do you want your full name used?
Everyone knows me as Captain Herb Magney—use that.
for the photo, Abby will turn it into an illustration. Do you have one we can use?
Sure. My crew once got me a t-shirt with Slim Pickens from Dr. Strangelove, riding the bomb with a cowboy hat. They said, “That’s how you tackle things.” It’s fitting. I’ll send something over on WhatsApp.
Excellent. Thanks again, Captain—it’s been a fantastic conversation.
My pleasure. This project is important, and I feel a civic duty to contribute. At the end of the day, the heart of it is simple: seek excellence. Years ago, authors like Tom Peters asked what made certain organisations stand out, and the common thread was passion for excellence. That’s what we need to instill in yachting—because people are people. Make them feel safe, earn their trust, and they’ll follow you anywhere. So let’s stop talking only about accidents and disasters. Let’s go in search of excellence in yachting. Highlight the programmes that are thriving, the crews that are achieving great things. That’s how we’ll attract more talent, more interest, and more respect for this industry.
Wonderful closing thought. Thanks again, Captain.
Anytime, Jim. Always prepared—Semper Paratus.