Night Watch: What It's Like to Sail Through Darkness

When you live on a sailboat, you quickly learn that some journeys just can’t be completed in a single day. That’s when we start talking about doing a night passage.

Whether or not we go for an overnight sail depends on a handful of crucial factors—weather, distance, timing, and above all, safety. When those align, we commit. And every time we do, we are reminded why we both love and respect sailing (or motoring) through the night.

The Magic of the Night

There’s something otherworldly about being at sea in the dark. If the weather’s right, the ocean transforms into a quiet, rolling expanse of starlight and reflection. We always hope for moonlight. There's truly nothing like a moonbeam lighting your way across the water. During last night's passage from Brunswick, GA to Charleston, SC, the moon was about 66% full—waxing, rising in the afternoon and setting around 3 a.m. For a few blissful hours, we had just enough light to feel like we were gliding through a dream.

But we live for those full-moon nights—when the sea glows silver and the stars blaze overhead. And if we’re lucky (like last night), there’s a little heat lightning far off on the horizon, putting on a quiet light show. On nights like that, the boat rocks gently and all you can hear is the rhythm of the waves. These are the overnighters we dream of.

And then, of course, there’s lightning—the strike kind. That can turn the dream into a nightmare. Fast. Thankfully, there was none of that last night.

Our Watch System

Doing a night passage doesn’t just affect one night—it changes the rhythm of several days. We plan carefully, rest up in advance, and set a watch schedule that works for us.

We’ve found that three-hour shifts are the sweet spot. I usually take the 6–9 p.m. and 12–3 a.m. shifts; David takes 9 p.m.–midnight and 3–6 a.m; and so on. David is an excellent napper—he’s basically trained for it his whole life. I, on the other hand, am not. For everyone’s safety and sanity, I don't even attempt it.

So while David naps in intervals throughout the day and night, I rely on a solid chunk of sleep after my early-morning shift. He kindly gives me a little extra time before I take over again. It’s teamwork… and a bit of mercy.

Safety Measures in the Dark

Night sailing demands a different level of caution. Visibility is limited, and everything takes just a bit more focus.

We run full navigation lights, use radar and AIS (automatic identification system) to detect other vessels and hazards, and we follow our established night rules:

• Life jackets at all times while on watch - we have personal locator beacons (PLB) on our life jackets that will trigger an SOS signal if we were to fall overboard

• No going forward of the cockpit unless tethered and only if absolutely necessary

• Always notify the other person before moving around on deck

  
  

We also use the VHF radio more actively at night, especially when passing close to other boats. There's something comforting about hearing another captain's voice cutting through the quiet. And is it just me, or are captains nicer in the middle of the night?

For meals, I prepare casseroles in advance—think jambalaya, baked spaghetti, shepherd’s pie—and freeze them. On passage day, I select one from the freezer, let it thaw, and pop it in the oven. This way, we have a hot meal without needing to slice, dice, or navigate a stovetop while underway.

As the air cools and the deck takes on a sheen of dew overnight, we bundle up. The deck can also get quite slippery. David wears shoes. I prefer barefoot sailing—so I wear grippy toe socks to keep me upright in the dark.

One personal challenge that I have with overnight sailing when close to the shore: depth perception. Differentiating a red buoy from a red light on a land-based radio tower miles away? Not so easy. My eyes play tricks on me, but over time I’ve learned to double-check, stay patient, and trust my tools. I actually use my binoculars more at night than during the day.

Reflections

One thing we’ve learned the hard way: night sailing is for offshore only. We do not transit the Intracoastal Waterway (ICW) at night. Why? That’s a story for another time—but let’s just say it involves too many bridges, shifting depths, and not enough light. You’ll thank us later.

Final Thoughts

We choose overnight passages when the route between two ports is long and uninterrupted by safe stopping points. Offshore, there are no anchorages or marinas—just open sea and the steady rhythm of the boat.

In contrast, the ICW is a labyrinth of tides, shoals, and bridges (some of which, let’s just say, are not Kavalea-friendly). When we do sail through the night, it’s because it’s the best—and sometimes only—way forward. Sometimes the sail plan requires just one overnighter, but it may require back-to-back nights at sea. Our maximum has been five. Based on that experience, we now aim for three or less (unless we have additional co-captains or crew on deck to help).

With preparation, communication, and a bit of moonlight, night watch becomes more than a necessity—it becomes a window into a quieter, more awe-inspiring side of life at sea.