Years ago, I took sailing lessons at the Shilshole Marina. I had purchased three beginning lessons at the Seattle Boat Show so that I could finally learn all the ins and outs of sailing and perhaps one day pilot my own sailboat around the world.
Well, the trip around the world is still on hold, largely because I don’t have a hole in the water that I can pour money into. That kind of makes the trip more challenging, given the fact that I would have to either swim or learn to walk on water.
That doesn’t look promising. I hear only one guy has mastered that walking on water thing and I’m certainly not in the same class by any stretch. Still, I learned a lot in my three lessons about how to handle a boat and the principles of getting a boat from Point A to Point B in short order.
I don’t really know what possessed me to take lessons in Seattle in March. I would be facing unforgiving weather then, and no doubt have to be all huddled up in rain gear. Fearing the worst, I purchased the recommended yellow slicker and matching rain pants, which made me look a lot like the Ancient Mariner. How more sailor could I get than that?
While some people learn to sail in puny little runabouts that will leave them sopping wet from an inevitable bad tack and a dunking, our boat was 25 feet in length. It would take a serious situation to send me overboard. This is a good thing, because I didn’t want to find myself in the drink, given the fact that I have never been able to find a graceful way to get out of the water and back into the boat. This technique has always vexed me and has kept me from trying exciting water sports like water skiing. That is my story and I’m sticking to it.
I was really good at sailing. I took to it easily and quickly learned how to gauge my course, sail to a point, trim the sails for maximum efficiency and work the lines. I could turn the thing on a dime.
In fact, in my last class we had to do just that. We had to master the man overboard drill, which requires you to take the boat directly into the wind next to the victim so you can fish him out of the water; no easy task. I did it not once but twice perfectly.
And this is the lesson I should still carry with me today. I know all too well that you can’t sail directly into the wind. If you do, you end up in “irons.” The boat will come to a complete stop if you insist on sailing into the wind.
The only way to make any headway is to tack constantly. That means weaving your way port, then crossing over to starboard in a zig zagging path that is at an angle to the direction the wind is blowing. It can be slow going, tacking. And very boring. But you can’t get from here to there any other way.
I have been trying to sail into the wind lately in life. Not on a tack, but directly into the wind, trying to will my way to go a certain direction. This is proving futile and I should know better. You’d think I would, given the fact that I know all about the impossibility of sailing into the wind.
It is a sad state of affairs, to be sure. I guess we all do it at one point in our lives. Even though we know better, we try to set a course that requires minimal tacking, trying to get to our destination as quickly as we can.
This has certainly happened to me. Even when I’m not trying to will myself directly into the wind, I’ve been tacking a little too close, trying to get there faster. But it never works. By nature, however, I am not a very patient person. And even though I know that a bigger zig zag course can get me there more quickly, I’m just not willing to put the time and effort into it.
So what is the result? I am in irons. I’m not going anywhere. And it’s really pissing me off.
Unfortunately, when this happens to us, we can only blame the skipper of our ship of our respective ships. That would be you and I by the way. While it would be more satisfying to blame the ship or the wind or the will of the gods, we can only blame ourselves for not making headway.
I was in irons for a couple days this week. It was my own damned fault. But I decided a day or so ago to take my hands off the tiller and let the whims of the wind dictate the course I should sail.
Of course, this takes a lot of faith. You have to really trust yourself and your course. It’s so tempting to turn into the wind just a little bit more each time you tack, but you can’t. Your sails will begin to luft and you’ll lose momentum. You won’t really get anywhere and only be wasting precious time and energy.
If there’s one lesson I’ve learned in all these 53 years is that there’s no easy way to get from Point A to Point B. While it’s tempting to turn tail and run with the wind, letting it take you wherever it wants to, you can’t get to your destination that way. In fact, you only end up farther away.
Me, I’m back to tacking on an ever changing course, reacting to the wind. There’s a Point B out there, just over the horizon. And I know that with patience, I will get there, even if the journey itself turns out to be a bit tacky.
Out on the Treasure Coast, mending my tattered sails and trying to figure out why the compass keeps pointing North,
– Robb