On Becoming Versed

First appeared in SAIL magazine • All rights reserved • © 2006 John Ellsworth

Whatever our experience and skill, most of us consider ourselves students of sail. Most likely, each of us wants to become a more competent sailor, one who can sail deliberately, efficiently, and safely under the most trying conditions. Three approaches, in addition to sailing experience, sailing school, yarn swapping, and reading up on the subject, can contribute to becoming versed as a sailor: observation, reflection, and rehearsal. By observation I mean learning by watching others, while still participating in the sailing. Reflection means learning by remembering all that you do in a demanding situation and then evaluating your response to the situation afterward. And rehearsal means practicing what you've learned until problem solving becomes reflexive.

Learning by observation is best achieved while you are participating on board. Sail with a capable sailor, and invite this person to operate your boat. In your role as crew, defer to your guest. As events unfold, track them and follow them. You will soon come upon a situation in which your skipper will respond in an unexpected way, but you will understand because you'll view the action in context.

An example from my own learning experience comes to mind. After beating along the south shore of Long Island, New York, Harry Nuse and I turned my Cape 25 northeastward into Jones Inlet to run before a 15-knot wind. Rollers overtook us, lifted the transom, and shoved us 10 to 15 degrees on either side of our heading. Despite adjustment of the helm to the rhythm, the following sea threatened to gibe the mainsail. The jib was steadied by a whisker pole, the main by nothing. On every wave, the boom kicked up and the sail's leech curled, inviting the wind to jump sides and slam the boom to port.

While I considered our predicament, Harry grabbed a dockline, bent two half-hitches at mid-boom, and lashed the bitter end to a stanchion base. "That'll hold her, John," Harry said. "That's a preventer, although improvised. If you install a boomvang, get one with a lower shackle so you can also use it as a preventer by fastening it along the rail."

It was an apt suggestion and an appropriate lesson, attained in the context of sailing.

Here's another example. In some West Indian marinas, boats are moored stern-to with an anchor off the bow. During my first charter company skipper's orientation, we were coming ashore to reprovision, and, upon seeing the many masts at the charter dock, I began to feel anxious, so I deferred to our local skipper.

"No problem," Jimmy said, and the occasion became a tutorial for all of us on board. We arranged lines and fenders. Leaving the dock to port, Jimmy guided our craft parallel to and wide of three anchor lines. Our berth was between two other 44-footers. As we passed our space, Jimmy turned outward, past perpendicular to the dock. When the boat lost headway, the foredeck skipper-trainee lowered the anchor. As the boat backed, she paid out the anchor line with slight resistance. The boat straightened as it gathered sternway and slowly slipped between its two neighbors. About 4 feet from the dock, Jimmy called to snub the anchor line. The boat stopped and the rest of the crew secured the stern, spring, and breast lines. How easy it looked!

"It was easy," Jimmy commented, "but there's a trick. Avoid reversing when the boat is directly perpendicular to the dock. Start from a slight angle because in reverse the prop will walk the stern to port or starboard." The trick is to test for this action beforehand. Then you can compensate for the angle and direction as Jimmy did. This episode was only one of many in which I learned by carefully watching a fellow sailor in command.

Be your own teacher: Track your moves as you perform tasks, then reflect on them

In addition to learning from others by observing, you can learn from your self by being aware of your own actions, deliberate or otherwise, in all situations. In other words, track your moves as you are performing tasks. Once you've accomplished a series of tasks, you can reflect upon them to determine their effectiveness. This way you'll be your own teacher.

Back on my Cape 25, Bill Howlett and I had just sailed under the Robert Moses Bridge, which connects Fire Island and Captree on Long Island. We were close-reaching on port tack heading west toward Fire Island Inlet and the Atlantic. The wind grew. Somewhere past the bridge, we headed up to roller-reef the main.

Bill went forward to ease the main halyard and pull down the luff. With the tiller between my legs, I started to turn the roller-reefing handle on the aft end of the boom. Just as I had rolled in about 6 inches of sail and could turn no more, Bill shouted, "John, I need pliers. The track stops are too tight-I can't pull the slides through the gate."

"Check the bag on the V-berth."

Bill hustled below and rummaged through the bag. "I can't find them."

"Look in the galley drawer," I said as I surveyed the seaway before us. Although we were closer to the bridge, I thought we had time to get the reefing finished.

"No pliers, John. Gonna try your wire cutters." Bill rushed on deck and tried turning the knurled knob. "Got it loose."

Both of us were now intent upon finishing the reefing. I continued turning the boom as Bill guided the luff out of the track.

"John, look out for the bridge!"

I looked under the boom. The wind and current had set us to port. Approaching fast, we were about to slam into the concrete abutment directly off the port bow. There goes my new boat, I thought, as I swung the tiller to port, thinking we could make it around that concrete mass. No response, no steerageway I swung the tiller hard to starboard and hauled hard on the starboard jibsheet. The jib backwinded, sweeping the boat swiftly to port. I was sure the bow was going to smack the abutment. Bill was at the pulpit. As the bow closed on the abutment, I braced for the impact. She cleared by inches. I couldn't believe it.

The current carried the boat under the bridge. When we were through, we turned on the outboard, finished reefing, reestablished our heading, and trimmed our sails. While doing so we agreed the incident should not have happened. We reflected upon the events and tried to sift out the lessons.

Three surfaced. First and most important, I hadn't practiced reefing at the mooring; if I had, I would have known that pliers were necessary. Second, the location of every item and tool on the boat should have been known, and those used most often should have been close at hand (like on my hip). Had Bill been able to find the pliers at the outset, I doubt trouble would have ensued. Third, we should have been more aware of the adverse current.

These three lessons came out of our reflection about what we had gotten ourselves into, our actions, and the consequences. But they wouldn't have done me any good, nor would lessons obtained from observing others, if I didn't use them whenever I could.

New techniques make sense when you view them in the context of problem solving

Practice. Knowing is not enough, though. Spend a few weekday afternoons backing into slips, maneuvering around a dock, reefing a mainsail, going aloft in the bosun's chair, or retrieving a cushion in a man-overboard exercise—all just a few of the skills in a sailor's inventory. Then, when the time comes to nestle your craft into a tight spot despite a running tide, to tuck in a double reef as the skies darken and the wind freshens, to go aloft to retrieve a flyaway halyard, or to go back to pick up a crewmember washed overboard, you'll know how to do it because you've already done it. Don't wait until you have no choice. Practice as much as you can.

To sum up, becoming versed in sailing calls for observation, reflection, and rehearsal.

1. We ought to be able to hand over our boats to capable sailors and watch them work. The new techniques we observe will make sense because we have viewed them in the context of solving a problem aboard.
2. Learning by reflection requires strict attention to your own procedures as you respond to the demands of a situation. You can then analyze and evaluate your performance in the light of the situation. Did you achieve what you wanted to achieve? Should you have considered other actions? Did you fully understand what was happening when you reacted as you did? Did your response sacrifice safety?
3. And why not create the next time under less trying circumstances? Practice under fair conditions. Fine tune and strengthen your savvy so that when a situation calls for your competent response, it is there in your seabag; you've become versed in the sailing arts.