The yacht is called Oya, which already puts you in a slightly adventurous frame of mind. In West African Yoruba culture, Oya is a formidable deity of winds, storms, and transformation, a guardian of thresholds and change. This is comforting because it suggests that when things get exciting — someone divine is already in charge of the weather and your eventual fate.
The Salona 40 herself is a splendid balancing act: it is fast enough to impress sailors and comfortable enough comfortable enough to prevent the crew from openly mutinying.
Inside, there are three spacious cabins, two bathrooms (TWO), a practical galley, and a bright, welcoming salon where plans are discussed, meals appear, and stories grow steadily better with retelling.
On deck, Oya is set up for swift and confident cruising. A full-batten mainsail & furling genoa mean fewer heroic struggles and more efficient progress, and a large cockpit makes sailing her feel purposeful rather than frantic — the sort of boat that knows where it’s going, even if you don’t yet.
She is fully equipped for extended cruising, which in boating terms means “we have attempted to think of everything that might go wrong.” Solar panels quietly convert sunshine into electricity, Li-ion batteries store it, radar and AIS watch other boats so you don’t have to, and there’s a brand-new dinghy with an outboard for trips ashore, daring escapes, or heroic grocery runs. The boat is also fully stocked with food and drinks — because no civilised expedition has ever functioned without it.
In summary, S/Y Oya is a fast, comfortable, well-prepared yacht, entirely capable of carrying you across water with confidence, style, and just enough dignity to pretend this was all part of a sensible plan.
She is ready. All that’s required now is a crew, a horizon, and the agreeable sense that something interesting is bound to happen next.
My way around the World 