Pondering by starlight

The Disease Called Cruising

6. Mid-Ocean Philosophy

HE THAT WILL learn to pray, let him go to sea, said George Herbert. He was right. I’ve done my fair share of praying in bad weather.

And on a gentle starlit night like this, when the trade wind blows warm and soft over a friendly sea, you can’t help wondering who made the Earth and the universe; and why; and where are we going?

Being at sea in a small boat makes you think quite a lot about how all this got started.

It seems to me that human knowledge is back-to-front. I mean, we know how to do incredibly difficult things such as splitting the atom and photographing the back of the Moon and keeping up strapless dresses, but we are no nearer to answering the very simplest questions: We don’t know as much about who or what created the universe as a tomcat knows about making gingerbread.

Ask yourself: Is it possible to create something from nothing?  Maybe it is, but not in my experience. So even if God did do it, something must have existed before. How was THAT created, then? If we all started from a Big Bang, what was it that went bang so bigly? Nothing doesn’t go bang. Nothing can’t go bang, if you see what I mean. Nothing is nothing.

It’s obvious that the human brain is not yet advanced enough to tackle the really simple questions like who we are and why we are and where we’re going. At this early stage of our evolution, human brains are able only to answer to tough questions, like what is the composition of Venus’s surface and what is the speed of light at 0 degrees Celsius in a vacuum?

You look at the stars on a night like this and you’ve got to wonder if mankind will ever know the answers to the simple questions before it is wiped out for ever. Scientists aren’t helping much. Oh sure, they’re making noises about progress. Of course they are. They have to justify their work and their lack of results. They need salaries, too.

Maybe, as I said, humans will disappear from the face of the Earth, as the dinosaurs did, before the simple questions get answered. Maybe it’s the destiny of the dolphin, or the whale (or, as some maintain, the indestructible cockroach) eventually to understand how the Earth and the universe were formed.

If that’s so, what point is there in our wondering about it now? If we’re never going to find out, why do we spend so much money trying to do so? Those billions could buy a lot of new anchors and genoa jibs for the deserving sailing class. The Hubble telescope alone could probably have provisioned every cruising yacht in the world for 10 years. Doesn’t that make more sense?

What’s more, we’re exploring the vast outer reaches of space before we’ve explored the oceans right here on Earth. There are big things lurking down there that I would like to know about. Big ships often disappear at sea without trace, even in this age of instant communication. Yachts disappear, too. Wouldn’t it make more sense to find out why, rather than spend money trying to figure out who we are and where we came from?

Perhaps the people in charge of spending our money should be forced to spend some time at sea in the cockpit of a small boat at sea, like this one, and let the sight of all those beautiful stars get them thinking about the really important things that affect us, as I do.

Hmmm . . . I see it’s getting light over there in the east. Enough of the brain strain. I wonder what June’s going to dish up for breakfast?

Today’s Thought

To understand the place of humans in the universe is to solve a complex problem. Therefore I find it impossible to believe that an understanding based entirely on science or one based entirely on religion can be correct.

— Wilton Robert Abbott, aerospace engineer

Tailpiece

“Well, hello . . . and where have you two been all afternoon?”

“Hi, Mom. Daddy took me to the library.”

“Did you enjoy it?”

“Yes, it was exciting.”

“Exciting?”

“Yes, one of the librarians had a full house and made Daddy pay $50 over the table.”

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

Sailing and philosophy

SAM PSMYTHE (silent P as in bath) tells me he wants to write a book. He wants to write about The Philosophy of Sailing. So he comes to me for help. He’s heard I’ve written books, which is true.

Now I have to say straight off, Sam, that this sounds like a rather grand concept. It’s not a book you can write off the top of your head. First you have to consider all the categories that sailors fall into: gypsy liveaboards; amateur racers; people going somewhere for some reason; weekenders and vacation amusement; charterers; singlehanders; record breakers; seekers after publicity; and professionals such as charter skippers, delivery masters, America’s Cup crew, etc.

Next you have to be perfectly sure what you mean by philosophy. Webster’s New World describes it as the “theory or logical analysis of the principles underlying conduct,” and “a particular system of principles for the conduct of life.” Now that sounds like pretty wooly stuff to me. A man’s brain can’t get a good grasp of words like that. I do understand that it seems to be all about principles. But what are principles? Mr. Webster explains: “The ultimate source, origin, or cause of something.”

Okay, cause. That’s a word I understand. So, Sam, if you ask about the philosophy of sailing, what it boils down to is: What causes people to sail? Or even simpler: Why do people sail? You want to write a book about why people sail. And you ask ME the question?

Well, shoot, how would I know? There are probably hundreds of reasons.

And are those reasons really going to be interesting to anyone? What I’m getting at is this: Are you going to sell any books?

Then there was Thoreau, of course. In 1986, Don Casey and Lew Hackler wrote a delightful book called Sensible Cruising, the Thoreau Approach: A Philosophic and Practical Approach to Cruising. (Yes, indeed, a long and very unThoreaucratic title.) But this was a book for people who had already decided to sail. It told them how to do that simply, cheaply, and effectively, as Henry David Thoreau might have done if only he’d been less interested in life in the woods and more interested in cruising under sail. But the book didn’t explore their reasons for wanting to sail, as you seem to want to do, Sam.

And yet, perhaps there is a chance for your book, albeit a slim one. I have noticed that people like to be reassured about their personal choices. They like to read about others who have made the same choices as they have and come to the same conclusions. They like to hear about people who sail for the same reasons. That makes them feel normal — or at least less abnormal than ordinary people, who don’t sail.

Now, Sam, what do you think the answer would be if you asked 100 people why they sail?

Surely the vast majority would say: “Because I like it.” Wasn’t it George Mallory who offered the famous phrase “Because it’s there” as his reason for wanting to conquer Mt. Everest? He wasn’t going to divulge to a prying public the innermost secrets of what drove him. Besides, he probably didn’t even know himself what made him want to climb. There may not have been any grand reason, overwhelming passion, or compelling desire. Maybe he just liked climbing. That’s a reason most of us simple sailors can understand.

I wish you well with your book, Sam, but I don’t expect to see it on the best-seller list any time soon.

Today’s Thought
The great books can only repeat what they have to say, without furnishing the clarification we desire.
— Catalog, St. John’s College, Annapolis, MD

Boaters’ Rules of Thumb, #89
Fuel consumption, gasoline. Four-stroke inboard engines need about 1 gallon per hour for every 10 horsepower generated. You can also find the number of gallons consumed per hour by multiplying horsepower used by 0.100. Outboard gasoline motors, especially two-strokes, are thirstier than four-stroke inboard engines.

Tailpiece
“Do you prefer American girls, Canadian girls, Mexican girls, French girls, or German girls?”
“Yes.”