Teaching Friends to Sail

I've been doing this, and I discovered something.

As we learn to sail, our instructors tend to focus on language. In fact, some of them delight in burying us in new vocabulary. Port and starboard aren't so bad, although only rarely is the reason for not using "left" and "right" explained. That makes all of it look rather arbitrary to some people.

Then we continue to explain, and explain, and explain.

Well, I had three newer sailors on my boat yesterday, two of them children aged 11 and 13. And I discovered something that I instinctively knew but hadn't put into words: learning to sail is largely physical. My friends were lucky. The wind was up, which made it very easy to tell where it was coming from. So with just a few words, they got the physical sensation of feeling the wind on their faces. All three of them actually had no trouble telling where the wind was coming from. Well, that counts. If I tell them to "point the boat into the wind" and I'm on the bow, they need to be able to tell where the wind is.

We only focused on a few things. I want them all, but especially the mother, to be able to handle the helm. I may have to count on the mother to do this while I'm undoing some fairly serious problem. What I noticed was that I was encouraging them to learn through their muscles, but that the mother kept using words to guide her children. I hope I was polite as I intervened and encouraged her to just let them *feel* how it feels to steer the boat. I have a very responsive wheel, and you don't have to move the wheel much at all to turn the boat. All three got that very quickly, and I made an active decision to explain as little as possible and let them experience as much as possible.

The children spent a lot of time crawling around on their hands and knees. Since I have netting around my boat, I explained to them that if the boat did something unexpected while they were forward, they were to immediately drop to their hands and knees. They actually had a lot of fun doing this, as well as walking around the boat.

By using just a few words and not overloading them with instructions, They very quickly got the idea that they must always be holding on to something, and not the lifelines (which pull them to the edge of the boat, but I didn't say that. I will, but I didn't want to scare them the first day out!)

As you may have guessed, we are planning a trip together.

I think that sometimes we bury newer sailors with too much language. They need to know where the luff and the clew are. Both are important to observe as we sail. I particularly want beginners to get familiar with the location of the clew. That will help them backwind the headsail during a tack in light wind, and controlling it will keep the headsail from wrapping around the forestay while jybing.

But they really don't need to know the name of all corners and sides of the sail their first trip out. They really only need to know luff and clew.

They can also learn to help you watch telltails on the headsail and mainsail. We do *not* have to give them chapter and verse of all the information those telltails can give you, or how it may relate to the position of the headsail car on the track (more vocabulary), etc. on the first time out, but if they can look at the telltales when you can't see them, that can be a lot of help.

My opinion? Pick a few things at a time to teach beginners. Don't try to cram in every little nook and cranny of every fact. Don't bury them in details when they're still working on port and starboard. I recently raced with someone who used "left" and "right" because there were beginners on the crew, and they had been so buried in new vocabulary that they couldn't retain any of it.

That was partly why I took this approach. But I also did because with an 11 and a 13 year old on board and actively learning, I knew that if you bury them in too many 'facts' for which they don't see the point, you'll lose their attention. I NEED them to be able to move around the boat safely. I NEED them to remain interested -- they could be tremendous help, say, tailing for an adult on a winch. But most of all, I need them to have a good time, so they don't beg their mom to turn around and go home!

Do you want to sail with these newer sailors? Are they important to you? Then don't use a chance to teach as a chance to show off. Be gentle. It's a lot to learn, and you may have forgotten just how overwhelming it can be. But the beginners on your boat are easily overwhelmed. With a little thought, you can still teach them a lot and have them step off the boat thinking 'Wow -- I learned a lot!" instead of "I'm not sure I'll ever get this."

You're the teacher, so the conclusions they draw about sailing are in your hands.

Colonoscopy vs. Live-Aboard?

Fugeddaboudit!

Find yourself a NICE hotel/motel room for three days, one with a refrigerator. Two days for prep, one day for the actual test and recovery.

Get a room in a place with very good cable and internet services.

Line up friends to make and bring jell-o in flavors you can have, and stock the refrigerator with drinks your doctor approves.

Colonoscopies and living aboard -- completely incompatible.


'Nuff said!

Observations on Moving Off the Boat

     “Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn’t do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.”

Mark Twain 

Friends have been inquiring, in very kindly ways, about how I feel about having to move off my sailboat. Part of this is no doubt also personal concerns on their part; many of my friends are close to my age, and they know that something could happen that could force them to stop sailing at any time, just as it could happen to me. But mostly I think they're just kind, and caring, and truly hoping I'm OK with how my life has played out lately.

Well, I am OK with it. 

Some have wondered how that could be possible. After all, I'm 68 and didn't even start learning to sail until I was 62. I surprised a lot of people when I moved on the boat, right before my 65th birthday. I acquired a new primary care physician not long ago, and (although he knew the answer from the medical history I had filled out), he asked my marital status. I told him that I was widowed. Then he asked, "Did you move onto the sailboat as a reaction to your husband's death?" 

"No," I said. "He died 18 years ago. I moved onto the sailboat as a reaction to having had breast cancer." 

I was diagnosed with breast cancer and had a mastectomy right before my 61st birthday. The surgery was remarkably easy (my surgeon truly had velvet hands), and I handled chemo very well. I had little problem dealing with Herceptin, one of the real miracles of the 21st century. However, they also put me on an aromatase inhibitor (AI's), drugs designed to suppress female hormones (we don't lose them completely at menopause). My type of breast cancer (there are seven major subgroups) was fed and supported by female hormones. 

I did *not* do well on AI's. I had every symptom they knew of, at severe levels, including a couple that hadn't yet made it into mainstream medical research literature. There was a very good chance that these AI's would be life-saving in my case, and my oncologist really pushed me to stay on them in spite of the side effects, and I tried. I reallly tried. But after two years of those side effects, I just couldn't bear them any more, especially after one of them put me in the emergency room for four hours, resulting in a bill of over $8,000 when I didn't have health insurance. (Oh yeah -- there was nothing wrong with me except a side effect of the AI).

That's when the reality of life hit me right between the eyes: it's going to end some day. I decided that even at the risk of my life, I needed to be happy and feel well again, and that meant dumping the AI's. I did that, felt better immediately, and looked at my tiny sailboat, wishing I could live on it. With no water tank, no shore supply, no head and no working galley, it was perfectly good as a day sailor. But as a home, it was one step up from a cardboard box. Knowing that something could happen at any time that would end my life -- and that I had just made a choice that increased the odds of that happening -- I found a really good deal on a larger, better configured boat, and I bought it.

So you see, there's more than one way I could have moved off my boat. I could be off it because I should have kept taking those AI's and had invited a fatal version of breast cancer back into my life. But it's been seven years and there's no sign of recurrence, and I have probably dodged that bullet. But something will take me some day, just as something will take you, and everyone you know, some day.

The only real question is, "What are you going to do until then? Are you going to live a life of purpose and actively seek ways to bring and keep joy into your life, or are you just going to let life happen to you?"

I made the choice to live aboard while I could. Now I have made the choice to move off, the only rational choice I could have made. My back problems are in no way incapacitating. I can still sail (I'm not sure how I will deal with it when the day comes, as we know it will, that I can no longer sail). Those back problems just make it hard to *live* on the boat, with all the bending, twisting and stretching under load it takes to keep the cabin of a sailboat orderly and comfortable to live in, but with modifications I've made, such as a 2:1 halyard, I can still sail.

I knew I would not always be able to live on board the day I moved on. But I've had 3 1/2 years of a wonderful adventure that just didn't have to happen. Some people have actually told me that they see me as a hero. I don't see it that way. In some ways it was a very selfish thing to do. It's been very hard, for instance, to reciprocate after someone has had me to their home for a party or dinner, unless they sail, and not all of my friends sail. No doubt my daughters see it as much more possible for them to come visit now, since both of them have spouses who have absolutely no interest whatsoever in being on a sailboat, but this being Mother's Day, I have to say they were terrifically supportive of my decision to move aboard, and neither of them said "Thank GOD!" when I decided to move off.   :)

So I would say, make your choices where you can. Think them out as well as you can ahead of time, recognizing that life is often completely unpredictable and even contrary to your desires. Don't be foolish; don't spend your entire 401K at age 50 on the biggest sailboat you can find, but look for sensible ways to follow your dream, whatever it is. If you start to think "I can't ..." ... well, maybe that's true, but look for paths around your obstacles and think creatively first. Then you will be able to say, as I do right now, "It's all good."

Update on the T-Bone accident

I was fortunate to speak to the owner of the sailboat. He was not sailing; he was motoring. He says that the pontoon boat was up on plane, and that he could see the possibility of collision, but that the pontoon boat had the most options for getting out of the way, not the least of which is the fact that his boat was designed for motoring and maneuvered with great ease under power (and especially at that speed). By the time the sailor realized (he had only 20 seconds total before he was hit) the guy was going to hit him, all he could do was turn his boat. He was hoping for a glancing blow, but ... that didn't happen.

The waters of the southern end of Boca Ciega Bay are crowded both with moving boats and with moored or anchored boats. It's not the place to operate a boat at high speed.

Oh, by the way -- there were TWO people on the pontoon boat, but they both chose to leave the pontoon on a plane while they BOTH searched for the cell phone.

The owner of the sailboat reports that the owner of the boat who hit him was well insured. Thank goodness, but don't count on it. I know of one large marina in the area that no longer requires the boats in its slips to carry insurance. Make sure you have insurance unless you're willing to say "Oh well, no more boat" some day.

T-Boned!

Or, This is why you should have a ditch bag!

In the photo below you'll see a sailboat that, until recently, was a racer frequently used by its owner. The owner did not belong to BCYC, but he frequently raced this boat in our races. You can see that the boat was taken care of. Although it might be due soon for a new bottom job, that bottom was squeaky clean.

About three days ago, he was sailing his boat in Boca Ciega Bay when he was suddenly T-boned -- hit right in the middle -- by a pontoon boat!

This is the result. It took less than two minutes for his sailboat to sink.

As sailors, we often talk about "right of way." In fact that isn't the phrase used any more. The Coast Guard now talks about the "stand on" vessel and the "give way" vessel. In the case of a sailboat under sail and a power boat (such as a pontoon boat) under motor power, the law is crystal clear: the sail boat is the "stand on vessel," under normal circumstances expected to maintain its course and speed. The "give way" vessel is the one under motor power, and is required to change course in order to avoid a collision. 

However, things are rarely that cut-and-dried on the water. The over-arching rule from which all other rules branch is, "Do everything possible to avoid a collision." This means that you can't "stand your ground" and say "but I was the stand-on vessel!" Even if you are the only person on your boat, you are required to keep a lookout. That means swiveling your head like an owl -- constantly -- when you're by yourself on your boat. It may be that this sailor's view of the oncoming vessel was blocked by his headsail, a common occurrence. But it is then his responsibility to move about the cockpit or do whatever else is necessary to know what is on the other side of that headsail. "The headsail blocked my view" is an incictment, not a defense.

On the other hand, the driver of the pontoon boat had the same responsibility, and no big sails to block his view. I've heard this story from several people who all repeated the same details, so I suspect it's true: when he hit the sailboat, he had dropped his cell phone and was searching the bottom of his boat to retrieve it. 

"Don't text and drive" applies every bit as much when on the water as it does when behind the wheel of a car.

Both skippers will probably be found to be at fault to some degree; that is nearly always the case under maritime law. However, it is possible that the pontoon boat was coming so fast at the sailboat that the sailor had no chance to change course and avert a collision. If that's the case, the blame will be entirely on the operator of the pontoon boat.

The rules regarding which is the "stand on" vessel and which is the "give way" vessel can be complicated, but always keep the #1 rule in mind: do whatever is necessary to avoid a collision -- if you can.

Taken Advantage Of ...

I wish I could tell you the name of the company, but I can only tell you what happened. Those of you in the St. Petersburg area will at least know to pay attention. Unfortunately, human nature being what it is, this problem may not be exclusive to St. Petersburg.

The St. Petersburg Power and Sailboat Show will take place December 4 - 7 of 2014. It's an annual event, one I have enjoyed. In 2012 I worked at the show on behalf of Boca Ciega Yacht Club. All the volunteers had some time off to visit the other booths. There was a rope vender across the path and west just a bit west of BCYC's booth in 2012, and the prices were too good to resist. I talked with another member who has the same boat as mine, and then went to the rope vender and bought 120' of 3/8" line, at what seemed like a very good price, to use as a spinnaker halyard. I told him what it was to be used for, and he told me he had "some" halyard line left. I want to be clear here; the vender presented himself as knowledgeable regarding lines for sailboats. He assured me that he had a small amount left, just enough, and that he would set it aside for me.

A friend installed this line as a spinnaker halyard for me. I don't have a spinnaker sail; I intended to use it to move heavy things, such as the air conditioner, on and off the boat. It didn't work very well, though. It was extremely hard to raise the air conditioner even a few inches so it could be swung over to the dock. Then I tried to use it to raise my storm sail over the roller furler, and it simply wouldn't do it. Friends took a look at it, and noted the same thing I did: the halyard seemed to run freely until there was any amount of appreciable weight on it. Then it simply wouldn't budge. However, when it had no load, it ran quite freely through all hardware including the sheave at the top of the mast.

Today someone figured out why the line was so difficult to use under load. This supposed halyard rope was not that at all. It was ... polypropelene! It was covered with woven threads, but it had a polypro core. It's cheap line that can't take much strain and that stretches until it breaks. Today's helper noted that as we pulled on the halyard (with someone sitting in a bosun's chair at the end of it to provide load), the line stretched significantly without raising the bosun's chair at all. I had thought it was just me, not as strong as I used to be after being laid up for a while, but three different strong people had not been able to raise it under load. We cut the end to examine the core.

It's really quite scary. In a storm I would have counted on that halyard to keep the storm sail up, and it might not have been up to the task, leaving me in a storm but with essentially no steering, no ability to either heave to or point the boat into the wind.

To me, selling such line to a sailor pretending that it would be suitable for a halyard borders on sociopathic behavior. I would not say that if I knew the name of the company, but I have tried and have not been able to trace it down. Since I can't provide the name of the company, all I can do is describe the danger presented by such sales behavior.

Stretch is not always bad. It's good to have a little stretch in one's dock lines, for instance. Polypropelene can also be useful, as it floats. But it isn't nearly as strong as other lines, and it's particularly susceptible to UV damage. Diameter for diameter, it's a weak rope. Between its weakness, its vulnerability to UV rays and its marked ability to stretch, it's a terrible choice for a halyard.

So all I can say is, "Buyers beware." Venders with Swiss cheese for consciences can spot a beginner from a mile away.  You really can get some great deals at boat shows, but if you aren't 150% certain regarding what you're looking at, bring a more experienced friend along.

The Side Netting Caught Me!

I have said in the past that one of the most dangerous things we do is get on and off a boat.

Last Friday, I got off the boat. As in, I moved off the boat. The moving truck picked up my belongings in one town. We were going to stop by the boat and load more things in the truck, but we were in the middle of what turned out to be record-breaking rain in some places, and we decided to just go to the apartment.

Later, of course, I had to go back to the boat. There were a couple of things that I had to get that day, in spite of the rain: my cat, and her kitty litter box.

I got the cat off first, no problem. But I was tired, and I slipped while getting the clean kitty litter out of the cabin. I spilled kitty litter into my shoe, down the companion way steps and into the cabin. Oh snap!

What I didn't realize was that I also stepped in some of the litter. Murphy noticed, however.

As soon as I put that litter-encrusted shoe on the side deck outside the cockpit, it turned to extremely slippery clay mud. Down I went, most of my weight on the top of my left knee. I felt my body be caught by the netting on the side of the boat. If the netting hadn't caught me, I would have gone into the marina, already injured (my knee did not like that landing), in the rain and with no one around anywhere.

Of course, netting won't help you unless you are on your hands and knees ... but Murphy had already seen to that. Instead of having a much worse accident, I got up, got safely home and washed off my shoes.

Needless to say this incident has made me a believer in side netting. I was going to add something like "particularly for older sailors," but ... NO. This could have happened to anyone (well, anyone with a cat on board!) It has absolutely convinced me that netting plus staying low if moving around the boat in rough waters is a first class idea.