The first lesson of parenting is really to expect the unexpected. Funnily enough, the same can be said of liveaboard sailing. Often our travels see us going from one extreme to the other in terms of available supplies as we’ve sailed both to big, bustling, yachting-hub cities as well as to tiny remote islands, without roads, vehicles or currency. One of the challenges of life onboard is to look at your plans for the next sailing stretch and try to pre-empt as many potential hiccups to your happiness as possible. And, as always, we also stock our first aid kit with some pretty thorough and helpful advice from our cruising friends who’ve travelled some of these routes ahead of us.

 

So setting out from lands of plenty such as when we left Europe, or pushed out to the Pacific or sailed back to the islands from New Zealand, means stocking up on all manner of items “just in case”. And, since leaving Mexico I also have to try to predict the misfortunes that could occur to any teeny crew members as well.

 

Before we first set out I took the RYA course in First Aid to try and bolster my confidence should the worst befall my darling skipper. However, I remember feeling somewhat intimidated by the sheer volume of potential disasters that I needed to learn how to prepare for. “Ok James,” I would say, checking and re-checking my list of medical supplies, “I think I’m happy with how to splint a broken arm, and we have some emergency dentistry supplies stored here. Do you think we need to track down some morphine as well?” Which would be met with a smirk and a clearly dubious raised eyebrow.

 

In my somewhat shaky role as doctor-mama-bear, I periodically re-stock the medical kit on board, tailored precisely to where we’re sailing to this year. We’ve had a lot more time in remote islands these last few seasons so I’ve upped the anti somewhat, to allow for all sorts of illnesses that our small fry may or may not get. Calamine lotion for chicken pox, nit lotion and combs in case they get head lice, even worming pills and dehydration salts were on my shopping list. I’ve got us anti-biotics for the adults and anti-biotic powders for the kiddos, numerous varieties of allergy and seasickness tablets as well as all the standard types of painkillers.

 

Insect bites are a constant irritation of ours and can easily get infected in the tropics by being scratched with a grubby fingernail. So I’ve loaded up on antiseptic, steroid, hydrocortisone, antihistamine and anti-biotic creams, a veritable spectrum of treatments. We’re also no strangers to the risk of malaria, having spent well over a year in places which all show as bright red, high incidence, on every map that you look at. This means permethrin-treated mosquito nets on every bunk, screens on every hatch and a veritable trunk of repellents ranging from gentle-baby-natural-herbal types to hardcore 100%DEET-atomic-blast-level-mass-mosquito-genocide types to cover all bases. We also have anti-malarial meds and malaria testing kits onboard, to help confirm any suspicious symptoms.

 

We’ve even had requests for medicines and, to an extent, medical care as well. Our first day at Longan island, an outer island of Papua New Guinea, saw us inviting a man onboard who has recently cut one of his toes off with a chainsaw, apparently this was an occupational hazard of their boatbuilding there. We were able to treat him with painkillers and properly clean and dress the wound. There was a health centre 12 miles to the south within the same atoll, but the nearest hospital was a minimum 6 hour open boat ride away to the mainland, and the weather wouldn’t allow for such a trip, as it would be not only uncomfortable but downright dangerous.

 

The truth of the matter is that as a layman you simply cannot be prepared for every medical eventuality. Sometimes knowing what you’re confident in dealing with alone and what circumstances you’d need additional help in is just as important as possessing the skills yourself. Also, familiarising yourself with what facilities are available nearby, how far away the nearest hospital is or who you could call on a sat phone is as valuable medical preparation as getting the right painkillers on board.

 

Although, I should add, that some of my preparations involve things like making sure I have birthday or Christmas presents stashed away for the little ones and ensuring there’s enough ingredients onboard to whip up some fairly special impromptu cakes too. So yes, sometimes that’s the medicine prescribed on this particular boat.