This post is part of The Making Wave Project – intrepid and inspirational women with an uplifting story to tell.

This story was written in April 2022. All details about Hannah’s achievements were true at the time.

I liked Hannah Stodel as soon as I met her, in a little carpark overlooking The Warren near Folkestone. She’d reached out to me, wanting to contribute to The Making Waves Project and I’d been excited by her story. Despite being born without her right lower arm, she’d notched up impressive achievements in the world of professional sailing. She was a four time Paralympian, a Triple World Champion, disability advocate, coach and keynote speaker. Also, the first disabled sailor to sail non-stop around Britain and Ireland. She appeared to be a woman who had overcome major setbacks and never given up on chasing her goals. 

The first thing which touched me about Hannah was her genuine smile. All those tough girl credentials I’d read about were softened straightaway. She was bubbly, earthy and very easy to connect with. We rummaged around in the boot of her car for a selection of clothing to shoot in, deciding on skinny jeans and a dark, checked shirt. Something light in the mini-heatwave we’d been sent. Then, we moseyed down to the placid sea. The sky was still. The beach quiet.

Hannah had travelled two hours to meet me, all the way from her home in Southampton. The stretch of sea there is called The Solent. The water is where she lives and works. It’s a career and a lifestyle. Still, when she stood next to me on my beach, she turned her face towards France, contently closed her eyes and deeply breathed in the saline breeze.

“This is beautiful,” she said appreciatively. “I love the Channel.”

That moved me. Hannah could easily have been blasé about the sea, but she looked at the gentle waves as though seeing them for the first time. The sea was mixed with her soul. I detected a very genuine bond between her and the wild water.

“Being here feels like freedom,” I said, as we walked along the beach.

“It does,” she agreed, “That’s what sailing was to me. An escape from school and bullying. I was a different person when I was at the sailing club. Sailing was a way for me to be normal. Nobody looked at me like I was disabled. Yes, I had a disadvantage but I didn’t let it beat me. I have always found weird and wonderful ways of achieving things. A disability forces you to adopt a ‘can-do’ attitude. You have no choice. If you didn’t have this mindset, you wouldn’t go anywhere or do anything.”

“So, where have you been?” I asked, effected by her answer but wanting to keep the dialogue moving. “Everywhere, I bet.”

“More or less,” she giggled modestly. “I trained and lived in Rio for a few years. Sailing under the statue of Christ was one of those one of those oh-my-god moments. Sydney was also unforgettable. China was, erm, different. I loved San Francisco too.”

“With work like that, do you ever bother going on holiday?”

“No!”

“Do you think that if you went on holiday, you’d end up sailing?”

“Probably!”

“I get the impression that you find it quite hard to stand still? Am I right?”

“Yes!” she laughed good-naturedly. “I always have to be doing something! I want to be wherever the action is.”

Hannah’s energy emanated from her. It is hardly surprising that so many doors have opened to her during her sailing career. She hasn’t just knocked on them. She has kicked them down.   

“What do you think the secret to your success is?” I ask her.

“People,” she said, without hesitation. “The people in my circle enable me to keep moving forward. These people believe in me even when I doubt myself. They cheer me on and always know what to say even in the darkest of moments.”

“Your tribe,” I acknowledged.

“Yes,” she agreed. “The people who make me a better version of myself. I couldn’t do this without them.”

This insight into how Hannah’s circle has shaped her career and character resonates with me. I am allocating huge importance to finding my tribe. Fireflies, I see them as. Little lights which will appear in my life and guide me along the route I’m destined to follow. I cannot build a post-baby identity without them. They will help me become braver and bolder, give me the impetus to keep photographing and writing and striving. 

As the sun started to sink and the sky dimmed, I took some portraits of the woman behind the sailor persona. Hannah had warned me that being photographed was not an aspect she was comfortable with but I reassured her a photoshoot with me is like two pals messing around. It is meant to be fun. It is meant to bring joy. And it did. We scrabbled up banks. Swished our feet in the fresh sea. Charged our spirits in the lustre of Spring. 

As we walked back to the cars, we talked about Hannah’s future. 16 years into her career, she is now ready to take on the toughest race, the Vendee Globe. If Hannah can conquer the ‘Everest of the Seas’, all 24,000 miles of non-stop and unassisted circumnavigation of the world, she will be the first disabled sailor to do so. She is, however, adamant that her journey towards this great goal remains authentic.

“I won’t sell my soul to get ahead,” she vowed. “I’m reluctant to collaborate with brands who aren’t right for me. Yes, I’ve missed opportunities because I’m selective about who I endorse but if I don’t stay true to myself, I’ll regret it. Eventually, I will find the right sponsorship and team. Yes, it’s a struggle but if it was easy, everyone would be doing it.”

These wise words and resolute integrity made me admire Hannah further.

“You’re astounding,” I tell her. “You are breaking down barriers and making other people want to do the same. I’ve found it difficult in recent years to balance my need for adventure and my commitment as a mother and wife, but you spur me on to find a way.”

“Never listen to people who tell you that you can’t do certain things,” Hannah smiled encouragingly. “I never have.” She let out an exasperated sigh. “We really do need to stop putting people in boxes. Knickers to it all, that’s what I say!”

“Knickers to it all?” I repeated, laughing. “I’ve never heard that before!”

It was time to go our separate ways. Our time together had been effortless and rewarding. Our union, everything my project stood for. Two women coming together to create a conversation. A picture. An experience. Something that would enrich both our lives going forward.

“Thank you,” she said at the end of our time together. “I really feel as though I’ve done something different.”

Coming from a worldly and driven woman like Hannah Stodel, those words meant a great deal.