Sailing smooths the troubled soul

THERE IS SOMETHING about sailing that attracts people with problems.  Perhaps it is an escape —  the thought of gliding gracefully over calm waters in healing silence, far from the worries and distractions of modern civilization.  Perhaps it is the faint hiss of the wake, the beautiful swell of the sails and the gleam of the varnish.

The interesting thing is that the size of the boat doesn’t seem to matter.  I can remember two occasions when I took grown men sailing in an 11-foot Mirror dinghy.  They were seeking salve for their troubled souls, and they didn’t seem to mind cramming themselves into a boat designed for one adult and one child.

The first occasion involved an older friend who was going through a palace revolution at work. He was a director of a large and powerful company and his future was to be decided by the full board of directors at a special meeting after lunch.

He asked if I would take him sailing in the Mirror. “I don’t know what to do with myself,” he said. “Two things can happen. They can kick me out — and then I’m done for. Or they can promote me — and I’ll be in the catbird seat.  Meanwhile, I can’t stand the stress.”

We went sailing on the bay.  I gave him the helm. I thought it would distract him from what was happening at work, and I guess it did.  He never did lose his tenseness completely, but the soothing, calming effect of sailing worked its magic on him and the farther we went the more he relaxed.

After a few hours, when he judged the board meeting would be over, we headed back, and he drove off.  I learned next day that he was the new executive boss of the company, destined to become rich and powerful, and never to set foot in anything as small as a Mirror again.

On another occasion a military man asked me to teach him to sail. He was a major in the army. He, too, took the helm of the little Mirror and  was soon sailing with some confidence. He seemed to be a very nice man, not at all as fierce as I had imagined an army major might be, and he was obviously a quick learner. I thought him very smart, in large part because, at the end of the lesson, he praised me for being a good teacher.

Two weeks later he committed suicide. Shot himself in the head.

I was shocked, and didn’t know quite what to think of that, or how I might have borne some responsibility. In the end, I decided that the magic of the Mirror came too late to save his troubled soul. I can only hope he found a few precious moments of mental peace while we were out in the Mirror together.

Today’s Thought

To know how to suggest is the great art of teaching.
— Amiel, Journal, 16 Nov 1864

Tailpiece

Heredity is one of those scientific terms that can be very confusing, but basically it means that if your grandfather didn’t have children, then your father wouldn’t have either, and neither will you.

^{(Drop by every Monday, Wednesday, Friday for a new Mainly about Boats column.)}

On the perils of learning

MY FRIEND MIKE REED recently suggested that I apply for a sailing instructor position going at the local community boating center. I told him I wasn’t interested because it’s a paid position. I only teach on a volunteer basis. That way, I can choose my pupils. I can hand-pick them, and they can’t blame me when they end up just as landlubberish as when they started.

But I have to admit that my choice of pupils is not always without flaws. Many years ago I agreed to teach a soldier to sail, a rather highly placed army officer, as a matter of fact.

I took him out in a small dinghy and explained that we were going to learn to beat. Anyone can sail a boat downwind but it takes a modicum of skill to sail upwind.

I trimmed and cleated the jib and told him to steer the boat according to the wind. Let her come up, up, up, slowly, slowly until the jib luff just starts to lift, and then pull off just a little. Up, up, up, lift, full and bye. Up, up, up. Follow the wind as it wavers back and forth. Concentrate on the jib luff, that little rippling bubble lifting right next to the forestay. Concentrate.

We were at it for about an hour, just beating to windward, and he did very well. By the time the hour was up he was doing it instinctively, as a good sailor always does. He didn’t have to think about it any more. His eyes just told his muscles what to do, bypassing the brain. He was pretty much a natural and I said so.

He told me afterward (and I say this with a blush) that I was the best instructor he’d ever had. Of course, all his other instructors had been instructing him on soldierly affairs. He’d never come across a sailing instructor before. So I take no credit for my role.

But anyway, two weeks later he committed suicide. Shot himself through the head with his service revolver.

I don’t know what part if any I played in that decision. I said to my wife: “I didn’t notice any suicidal tendencies.”

She said: “He went sailing with you, didn’t he?”

She’s a great one for irony, my wife. Or sarcasm. Or whatever you call it. Anyway, for some reason I found it a great relief that I hadn’t charged him for his lesson. And I’ve never charged anybody since.

Today’s Thought
Teaching is not a lost art, but the regard for it is a lost tradition.
— Jacques Barzun, Dean of Graduate School, Columbia University

Boaters’ Rules of Thumb, #51
Diesel exhausts (1). Black smoke. The gases should normally be quite clear. Black smoke is an indication that the engine is overloaded, or that the air supply is insufficient, or that an injector is malfunctioning. Improperly burned particles of excess fuel are being blown out of the exhaust.

Tailpiece
Definition of the word edible:
Something nice to eat. For example, a worm to a frog; or a frog to a snake; or a snake to a pig; or a pig to a man; or a man to a worm.