Will and I clung to the highest yardarm of the Young Endeavour sailing ship, balancing on footropes that wobbled in the gusts of New Zealand wind. I thought he looked like Orlando Bloom with tufts of stubble trying to gather on his chin. Not a bad view, but not a reassuring one. He was just a kid.

I was the oldest in our group at twenty-three, struggling to fit in and to stay awake. I hadn’t brushed my hair in days.

We swayed forward and aft, thirty metres above the deck. My fingers were stiff with cold. I leant backwards and underneath the yardarm for a better angle to untie the sail. My muscles didn’t obey my commands to pull me back up.

“Will,” I said. My voice was very calm. “I’m going to fall.”

His eyes widened. He was just a kid.

I shoved my leg over the footrope in desperation, gaining a knee-hold instead of a foothold. Suddenly I was hanging painfully from behind one knee. My head tipped back. The weight of my hair pulled me toward the ocean.

“You can do this,” Will said to me. He didn’t raise his voice.

His eyes locked with mine, and I believed him. I tugged at the folds of sail above my head. The cloth was as hard as wood under my fingers, and as strong. I hooked my feet back onto the footropes, and gained leverage. Handful by handful I dragged my body around the yard. At last I lay half on top of it, safe, with the sail beneath me.

Will and I have been friends ever since.

If you have a travel story you want to share, (and want to be in the running for a YHA voucher), check our YHA Competition HERE. It closes 18th July so hurry!