About the boat:
Hilary will be sailing a modified Artemis 20,
a 20-foot carbon fiber boat called Me 2. Lister uses a “sip ‘n’ puff” system, where she sips and puffs into straws that control the direction of the boat and trim of the sails. The boat itself cost $30,000, with an additional $22,000 for the mechanics. Previous to this trip, Lister crossed the English channel in 2005 and sailed around the Isle of Wright in 2007.

When your friend first asked you to go sailing back in 2003, what was your initial thought?
My initial reaction was “Yes! Let’s go now!” But when the day came, about a week later, I had a stomachache, headache… pretty much anything that would get me out of having to go. I was terrified because I hadn’t been out of the house in three months. I got really agoraphobic. It wasn’t the idea of sailing itself that scared me, just going out the front door.

What was the hardest part about learning to sail? What came naturally?
It was really learning about the wind. I can’t feel the wind except in just a few places and my face because I’m kind of cocooned. The back of my head is covered and the sides as well. So learning how to tell which way the wind is coming and then getting the boat up at the right minute is probably the hardest part.

How long did it take you to master the sip ‘n’ puff system?
It’s not too hard because it’s the same system I use to do my electric wheelchair. Except it’s backwards. So we had to get my electric wheelchair changed, so now puff is port and sip is starboard.

Are you ever scared when you’re out there all alone?
No, I’m not ever scared. Sometimes apprehensive or worried, but I’ve not yet been scared. There was one time when the wind blew the sail bag over my face and I was completely blind—that was kind of nerve-wracking. I was in a really busy sailing area, but fortunately I was about five miles from shore. I was still in communication with my team, and they were talking to me and telling me where to tack. OK, so that was quite scary, but I trust them. It took me halfway to port and back before the wind blew the bag off of my face, and fortunately there was enough space and it was fine.

We also had a time when my connections broke or I lost complete control of my system.
My problems are usually related to electronics because the Arty is a very wet boat, and salt water and electronics don’t mix. There was one time when my SeaTalk connection, the way I communicate with my safety boat, went down for a little bit. I had no GPS and it was foggy, and dark. That was fun.

Why does sailing appeal to you and not other sports?
I suppose that I fell into it, and it bit me very hard on the backside. And once it was in my blood, I didn’t have a need for anything else. Also, I’m very disabled and I can’t sit upright on my own. I couldn’t ski solo and I couldn’t do marathons because I’d need an electric chair, which is kind of cheating. Of the other athletics, rugby is out—which would have been the other sport I’ve gone for. But really, there’s very little you can do just by operating your mouth.

In your youth, before the disease took its toll, you were both competitive in sports and an accomplished clarinetist. Which was harder to lose—sports or music?
The music, absolutely. I still can’t listen to classical music or clarinet jazz very easily.

What’s the sailing community been like? Do you feel a special bond with other sailors?
I’m incredibly lucky. Other sailors have always treated me like a person, which sounds basic, but often people in wheelchairs get talked over. People ask the person pushing you how you are. Sailors don’t do that because they’re all interested in each other’s boats, how they work, and what you’re going to do with it. I’m lucky to have some good sailing friends.

Is it difficult or frustrating to depend on other people to sail?
It is kind of frustrating. I can’t go sailing without a safety crew. People go sailing every day of the year, all over the world, but I can’t go out without three blokes in a boat watching me. I find that quite irksome. But I do have fantastic support from my team members, who’ve become very close and my family. My team is made up of seven people: four guys who are the wet crew, they spend three days in the boat and one day out. We also have two drivers on land, and a carer, so all together seven people, plus me is eight.

What was it like making the decision to halt the ‘Round Britain Journey last summer after poor weather and electronic problems dogged the attempt?
Gutting, absolutely gutting. I couldn’t talk to the team. I gave up when I handed over responsibility to my project manager. It was a tough six weeks after we finished and I was back in the same sofa looking at the same view unable to do anything again. Terrible. We’ve got the electronics so they’re now in a watertight box and that’s really the key. We did that pretty early on in the sail. Last year it was really the weather that completely stranded us.

Have you heard from fans or admirers about how your story has inspired them to go for their dreams?
That’s what Hilary’s Dream Trust is all about. It’s the charity we’ve set up because I believe that everyone, whether they’re disabled or able bodied, should be able to—or at least try to—live their dreams. We’ve established a trust for people who are either disabled or disadvantaged financially and have a particular sailing dream which they want to fulfill. We’ll help with that. We hope to raise $75,000 for the charity.

What’s been the most rewarding part of sharing your story with a larger audience?
I think it’s the feedback I get. I’m constantly amazed that people want to have their picture taken with me. Or they’ve read about my story in all sorts of parts of the world. My mum was in Chile recently and they’d heard about me there. That’s most humbling and it’s also good because it means we’re reaching a lot of people.

What’s it like having total control over a 20-foot boat when you aren’t able to control so many things in your life?
It’s utter freedom, complete freedom. It’s… it’s like being me again. People joke I’m part cyborg when I get in the boat because it becomes part of me. And it does.

Click here to make a donation to Hilary’s Dream Trust.

Melanie Lidman