Born and raised in Barcelona, Angel was very average at school until, that is, he became very bad. He lost interest and motivation in equal measure. Instead, Angel threw himself into the sea – quite literally – putting his energy into sailing and diving. Before long, Angel was accepted into a Quarter Ton Class team and was off racing every Sunday – enjoying the après sail as much as he did the regattas themselves.
“You could say that I took the path of least resistance for my first job”, says Angel, “working at the SEAT factory with Dad. I was in the engine test room, connecting up each new motor to make sure it worked properly. It wasn’t quite as monotonous as working on the assembly line, although not far off, so I wasn’t too disappointed to leave and complete my year-long military service.
“Now age 20, and hungry for real adventure, I joined a firm of private investigators. While the company’s main focus was matrimonial and relationship issues, I was tasked with corporate and insurance fraud. I spent a lot of time in the car for very little action and, unlike Magnum P.I., there was no Ferrari, nor was there a beautiful woman miraculously linked to every case. After three years, a new law came in requiring additional exams to become a bona fide detective and, while I would likely have passed them, I took it as a sign to move on.
“I’d kept up my sailing throughout, and it was in this racing world that a wise man enlightened me to the fact that the shortest distance between two points wasn’t always a straight line. For flat surfaces, yes, but for spherical surfaces, such as the Earth, no, a curved route was shorter. My mind was blown and my thirst for knowledge was finally awoken – and about time too.
“It soon became clear that a decision had to be made between a life in the city or on the sea – the sea won. Initially, I didn’t gain too much support for my sailing endeavours, in fact my grandmother said that sailing was just for thieves and runaways, but I ignored her protestations and finally went off to earn some proper qualifications – age 24.
“I completed a nine-month residential course in Almeria and, for the first time in my life, achieved really good grades. But, before I could claim my commercial captain licence for boats up to 500GT, I needed a year’s sea time under my belt. The college didn’t arrange this, you had to find your own way, so I headed back to Barcelona and got a job as a deckhand on a small Spanish vessel.
“It was terrible. The captain forbade me to touch anything, yet wanted me on watch duty every weekend. The weekend bit I didn’t mind, but if I couldn’t touch the bilges, the radar, and the firefighting equipment – what use was I? Apparently, in the event of incident, I should holler to attract the attention of a marinero. Absurd. I hadn’t studied for a year to stand on the dock and shout, so I learned, ‘I am looking for work’ in English, and started dockwalking. I instantly lucked out and got taken on by 45-metre Proteksan Costa Magna for a spot of day work. Apparently, I did a good job. I stayed for a year and a half and was promoted to chief officer.
“The British captain was old school, tough but kind, and I learned a lot. This story sums him up: We were en-route Marbella to pick up the owner and I was due on watch at 2am. At 1.55am I reported for duty and, despite there being no guests onboard, was ticked off for not being clean shaven. I was despatched to shave. I returned around 2.05am and was then punished for being late for watch. That same trip, we dropped anchor just outside Puerto Banús and were tasked with washing the vessel down. Why on earth would you use all the water reserves to do that? We had our answer when Costa Magna pulled in the harbour in boat-show condition. Everyone noticed, and we all felt very proud. Our efforts were rewarded with appreciation.
“Thanks to Costa Magna I fell in love with yachting. It will always be the best period of my entire career. She also provided me with my most poignant moment. We hosted the whole family one summer, the mother was very poorly and they wanted to share a special season together. On the last day, the guests were packing their suitcases and I found her daughter crying. Despite obvious wealth, she realised that it wasn’t the material things that made her happy. She didn’t want to leave as she had just savoured the best summer of her life.
“When I left Costa Magna in 1999, I jumped from boat to boat, nothing particularly remarkable, merely gradually climbing the ladder and gaining experience – good and bad – along the way. During this chapter, just shy of my 30th birthday, I also got my first captaincy – but not quite in the way you’d expect.
“My winter plan was for an Atlantic crossing, but I didn’t manage to pick one up, so I headed to the Canaries to see if I could intercept one there – I drew a blank. In the end, I joined a small sailing catamaran offering whale watching tours with high-end guest service. One morning, I got a call, the young captain had a heart attack, he was dead – would I take over? I had shaky legs, yet felt ready for the step up, and finished the rest of that season as skipper.
“It now felt like the right moment to launch into my second slice of maritime education, a two-academic-year college course on Palma’s Dique Oeste. The last four months were spent enrolled as a cadet in various different vessels, from fishing boats to tugs, to gain a well-rounded perspective of the industry. Fishing was especially tough. Up at 3.30am, onboard at 4am, home at 5pm, then get ready to do it all again. Of course you could, in theory, grab a few winks en-route to fishing grounds but, as a newbie, I wanted to spend all my time on the bridge with the skipper. Put it this way, fishing made you value the superyacht life even more. I came out of college with a licence for boats up to 1600GT, and put it to good use on sailing and motoryachts up to 35 metres or so.
“By 2003, I was settled in Palma and had met my wife-to-be at a mutual friend’s BBQ in the countryside. This blossoming relationship prompted me to go shore-based to work as a Project Manager for Varadero Palma. It was good. I was still involved in the nautical adventure and, crucially, helping people achieve their yachting dreams. So many vessels came through the shipyard, each with unique problems and solutions, and the learning curve was huge – as was the salary drop from being a captain. After five years, and a belly-full of internal politics, I made my exit in 2007 – just before the financial crisis took hold.
“I headed south to Valencia, where I became Commercial Director for Vulkan Shipyard – another fiasco. We brought in a lucrative Abeking & Rasmussen refit, but the shipyard owner felt it was appropriate to use our own carpenters, chaps who’d honed their skills on little fishing boats, rather than bring in the best talent. I politely made my way back to Mallorca, via Ibiza, where I worked for an Azimut and Atlantis dealer. They swiftly went under having foolishly part-exchanged too much over-priced stock.
“Walking Palma’s docks once more, old customers of mine were saying, ‘Angel we missed you’, which, having being away for a few years, was really lovely to hear. This gave me the confidence I needed to start my own agency. I knew I had the talent, and the contacts, but this warm welcome gave me the belief.
“The Yacht Agency was a life raft for four or five years, as Spain navigated its way out of financial crisis. In this period of calm and comfort, my wife and I created two lovely daughters – Lucia in 2010 and Marina in 2013. At work, I honed in on quality not quantity, and had a handful of really good customers. However, life happens, and one by one they flew the nest. Fortunately, this coincided with me being offered a Business Development role at Astilleros de Mallorca, based at their new STP office.
“This was a wonderful chapter but, in 2016, a new deputy general manager joined the team, bringing his own senior staff with him. I was offered a position in the purchasing department, it didn’t float my boat, so I started pacing the docks once more.
“During my ‘land years’, which broadly lasted between 2003 and 2018, I never let my certificate of competence expire and kept my eye in. Yachts are a great platform for making people happy. Yes, as a captain you will see new places and experience different cultures but, most importantly, you are in a prime position to generate happiness. The only other crew member who can generate happiness faster is the chef, for food is instant gratification. In a quest to create more cheer, I was more than delighted to return to the helm, and went on to skipper several more vessels, including 27-metre Leopard African Dream.
“And then, 2020 happened. I found myself locked inside a 25-metre Princess Yacht in pandemic-ravaged Italy for three months. At least we captains are used to being confined in small spaces for long periods. I made my way home to Mallorca at the beginning of June and, like many other yacht captains, have found myself without consistent work – a day charter here, a week charter there.
“I’m only 50, so I am certainly not ready to retire. If I stay on boats, I’d be looking at a 40-metre, perhaps a little larger, and make sure I was instrumental in providing real joy for the family. If I stay on land, I’d opt for marina management over a shipyard. A shipyard is like a hospital. There are constraints of time and of money and the only person who really wants to be there is the engineer. A marina on the other hand is like a playground. Here, we’re not curing ‘illness’, we’re creating memories, and it’s easy for me to make people happy.
“Creating a warm marina environment would be a nice way to give back after a long captain’s career. Besides all the above, I’ve been working with marina service quality standards for the International Marine Certification Institute since 2010, so I’ve certainly got the knowledge. Moreover I speak English, Spanish, Catalan, plus a little French, Italian and Portuguese.
“My little girls are old enough to understand that Daddy’s job takes him away and know that they can visit me, and me them, so there’s inevitably something to look forward to. I’ve always tried to teach them patience. If they earn new pink shoes with patience and good behaviour, they will appreciate them. If I simply give them a pair, they’ll gripe about the shade of pink and wonder if perhaps they should have asked for red. I adore them and it makes me smile to hear how proud they are to tell their school friends I am a yacht captain.”
Sarah Forge, hello@sarahforge.com
