Constantly Driven by a Spirit of Discovery: Keio Alumna Naho Takahara Sails Solo Across the Atlantic

I was around 3 when I first sat on a yacht. I was born and raised in Kobe, and my family loved the outdoors. They did stuff like fishing and barbequing at Osaka Bay and visiting Awaji Island. Yachts were a lot of fun; it felt like I was on an aquatic camping trailer. I also tagged along when they were maintaining the yacht. I helped around—handing screws to my dad, doing the setup before, cleaning up after. Well, I guess I really loved yachts. Nonetheless, it had been sternly drilled into me when I was a child that danger comes with being on board, that you must always exercise your own judgment before you act, and so on.

I was consumed by my extracurricular activities. I participated in the national student debate championship (the Debate Koshien) and represented Japan at the Global Classrooms International Model United Nations Conference in New York. I neglected my studies, so I did not make it to my first-choice university, the University of Tokyo. That was the biggest setback for me then. But then, I went to Keio, and I saw lots of dazzlingly talented people... That was a huge shock to me because I was locked into this worldview that academic credentials are everything.

At that time, there was only one student club member, but there were also lots of amazing alumni club members who were big fans of sailing culture. I was deeply moved by their passion to carry on the legacy of the club as it headed toward its 70th anniversary. So I joined. With their generous support, I learned the ABCs of yachting, such as how to drive and service the vessel. I have fun memories of everyone scraping off barnacles stuck on the hull, of us working as a team to paint the boats, and so on. It was also my first experience planning a cruise on my own. For example, once I decided that I'd be going to Niijima in the Izu Islands, my first step was to practice night sailing. Then, it would be establishing the route, calculating distances and times, preparing the equipment, and so on. I guess I can trace my love for yachting to those days, when I wasn't competing with anybody, when I was just going at my own pace, doing what I could, one after the other.

Yeah, indeed. I didn't have a good idea of what I wanted to do, who I wanted to become. I knew the answer that recruiters wanted, but I struggled with whether that actually sat right with me. After drifting about, I finally decided on corporate banking at Mizuho Bank. I did so because I thought it suited me—meeting people from all sorts of industries, going to various places on business.

Once, I came across the female sailor Clarisse Crémer, who completed a race to circumnavigate the globe. I was completely enthralled, like, "wow, that's so cool." That feat was certainly remarkable, but more than anything else was the act of launching a campaign from scratch and working toward realizing it. "Now, that is who I want to become," I thought.

Although I didn't know what's what at that time, I filled in the inquiry form for Kojiro Shiraishi's DMG MORI Sailing Team, like, "I wanna learn about yacht racing." Then, they seemed to be short-handed when COVID-19 hit, and, what do you know, I got hired part-time. This opportunity put me around a pro sailing team that competes at the highest international level, and I was responsible for preparing the sails, cleaning the ship, and so on. In my conversations with the team members, I came to know of the Mini Transat race, a gateway event for those stepping into open-ocean racing. Learning that world-renowned sailors like Crémer had this race under their belt, I swore to myself, "I must go." I resolved to continue yachting while working.

I then obtained the radio operator license needed to join the race and took courses in various skills such as sea survival. One chance encounter I had at that time was with the owner of my current team(at the time of the interview). Things were humming along, and, in the 3 months before I was set to graduate, I was training ferociously at sea with my coach in the dead of winter. I had the basics of open-ocean sailing hammered into me.

My life at my first year at the bank was going to the lodging house on Friday night, training, and coming back on Sunday night. In my second year, I made use of the company's 3-day workweek program. I did five days worth of work over Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday; worked on the administrative side of my campaign on Thursday and Friday (e.g., finding sponsors); and trained on Saturday and Sunday. HR frowned upon it initially, and I'm sure there was opposition from my colleagues on the ground. However, I had managers who backed me and people who supported me. I was then able to juggle between both.

Thankfully, our clients were gracious, and our sales performance was good. I even received an official commendation from the bank's Kansai regional division. On the yachting side, I won three successive championships in the Japan Offshore Doubles competition. Once again, I was reminded of how important it is to keep taking the next step forward, even if everyone around you says that it is impossible.

Then, while going all over looking for sponsors, I had the good fortune of crossing paths with the CEO of Kasumigaseki Capital. He suggested that I come on board as an employee. I was incredibly grateful. Having also felt that I had done all that I could at Mizuho Bank, I decided to take up his offer. I took administrative leave right when I stepped into my new role; I then based myself in France and focused exclusively on yachting.

It's a race to cross the Atlantic (hence, Transat) using a mini yacht, about 6.5 m in overall length. The voyage starts in France, takes about 3 weeks, and is done by one person on a yacht over 6500 km. It's a mixed-gender, single-division race with no age limit, and 90 sailors who have cleared the qualifying criteria can participate. There were 13 female participants this round, and I was the first ever Japanese woman to participate.

Open-ocean yacht races have been said to "start before it actually starts." For example, you need to raise funds, set up a campaign, and go for qualifying races to clock up nautical miles. It's preparation where you're finding your way about in the unknown. Of course, amidst all that, buying a boat was a headache. I couldn't find a sponsor before the set date, and I had no choice but to take out a loan. I decided on it without consulting anyone, not even my parents. Looking back, yeah, there were times when the pressure almost broke me.

I'll never forget the moment the race began. The boats were leaving the pier one by one, and when it was my turn, other competitors as well as my sponsors and team members who came all the way from Japan frantically yelled out my name and gave me an enthusiastic sendoff. To receive all that support from that many people, to be able to make it to this place, that was very moving for me.

During the race, one leg of it got suspended because of a major hurricane, one key piece of equipment broke down, and the boat got stuck on seaweeds...it was not without trouble. But I completed the race, clocking in at 16 days, 10 hours, 30 minutes, and 23 seconds, and finishing in 26th place. More than what place I finished in, however, was the satisfaction of accomplishing the aim that I had from the outset: of learning through this race. Most importantly, it left me feeling, "yeah, I guess I really do like open-ocean sailing." I was utterly spent right after I crossed the finish line, but after 8 hours of sleep or so, I was like, "let me go again!" "I think I could have done better." So, be careful, guys! Yachting's pretty addictive!

First, it's that tension in the air: making sure you're back home in one piece, dealing with problems as they come, all while in a natural environment fraught with uncertainty. The second, I guess, would be the sheer depth of what I have to learn. In solo yachting especially, it ranges from properly managing your vessel to understanding the weather, regulating your mental state, sailing quickly, choosing the right route that allows you to sail quickly, and so on. All of these must be done to a high standard. Plus, the fact that these work in combination with each other adds another layer of complexity. There is no end to learning. The charm of yachting lies precisely in such a never-ending journey to learn.

In my solo debut race, I ran into a windstorm at night, and it came to a point where I was forced to weave through a rock formation in choppy waters. If I had hit any of those rocks, I might have sunk, but I just had to hurry on forward. As I gripped the helm, drenched to the bone from the towering waves in the bleak of night, my body was twitching, bristling for a fight. "So, this is what open-ocean sailing's all about. Well, that's why I'm here!" That was what was going through my mind, but it is indeed scary if you step back and think about it. That's where my mental performance coach comes in. It is for situations like these that I first anticipate the various what-ifs in my head and prepare myself for the oncoming risks.

Yeah, definitely. Daybreak's the best. The westward crossing over the Atlantic means that the morning sun rises behind you, so you feel that warm sunlight at your back. When it hits, it makes me go like, "Ah, yet another brand-new day." At night too, when I'm absorbed in piloting the vessel, I'd just suddenly lift up my head to be greeted by that sea of stars in sky. I look forward to mealtime as well. I'll bring freeze-dried food where you're supposed to put hot water in, but I usually can't wait and bite down on it while it's still hard. I guess mealtime's a big thing for me too! Snacks like bite-size chocolate are necessities as well.

This year, I'll spend about a third of the year abroad for races and spend the remaining time based in Japan for work. From the next year onward, I have my sights on progressing to a slightly larger class of ship. If I'm piloting a larger ship, I can tackle even more treacherous waters, like the Southern (Antarctic) Ocean, in higher-profile races. I guess I'm hungry for a bigger challenge. From here on out, I plan to mark my sailing campaigns with the slogan "Sail for Well-being!" Ideally, I hope that I can be the wind at the back of other adventurers through my projects. I've also got talks lined up in the meantime, and I hope to bring some specific ideas I have to life.

Life and open-ocean sailing are not that different. You can't just cut straight to your goal, and you're subject to the external environment. Nonetheless, grip that helm and inch steadily forward. No one is born having already achieved something on day one. Focus on the small steps you can take now, and keep putting one foot in front of the other, day in and day out.