You’ve got to/you’re gonna hit some docks
Issue 23 : Mar/Apr 2002
I’ve heard it said that one of the differences between the sexes is that a woman will hit a dock and say, “I wonder what I did wrong,” and a man will hit the same dock in the same maneuver and say, “Who put that thing there?”
The wisdom of this story may not actually be drawn along gender lines, but there are certainly those who can hit a dock with no remorse whatsoever and those who look for a deeper meaning when they do so. My motto is “dolphin poles are a renewable resource,” and from that you can tell in which group I belong.
On our boat there are roles and duty stations, as there are, I would bet, on most boats. It is not politically correct, but it happens. I get the helm in difficult close-quarters maneuvering. I’m comfortable with this; so is Karen. The obvious reason for assigning this duty station to me is that I’ve had more experience doing it, and so will do it more skillfully. The obvious reason is not the real reason. The real reason is actually a complex dynamic that starts with my knowing something deep down in my gut that Karen does not know deep down in her gut. (Yet.)
I’ve been “wrenching” now for maybe 45 years as a mechanic, an engineer, and an incurable do-it-yourselfer. I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve been hanging upside down or been crushed into some other impossible position looking at a stuck fastener and knowing that I didn’t have the tools or the choices, and when that fastener finally let go I was going to bark my knuckles. The price of doing that job was a little blood and loose skin. So be it. Bang, clank, “Dang, I thought so!” I’ve never found any good way to avoid those situations, and my hands show it.
Some people work on boats and cars and houses because they like to work on things. I work on boats so I can sail them, cars so I can drive them, and (Karen would say) not so much on houses at all. The point is that I’m really after something beyond the task at hand.
There are several dreams that circulate through sailing, and also through our magazine. There are a million versions of these dreams and so the stories can be told that many times, and no one will tire of the telling.
In the first dream, would-be sailor/boatowners dream that they can own a good boat even without being extremely wealthy. They will get an older boat and fix it up, investing time and effort in transforming the boat into a jewel. Note here, they do not expect to get off easy in this dream. They know their time and effort are their most precious possessions. They are not trying to get off easy. They are trying to get on the water.
In the second dream, the would-be sailor has little or no experience with the task of sailing and wants to learn and become competent in the use of boats. Often this dream leads to the first dream or follows it.
Please understand that, to my mind, these are two of the most beautiful and magical dreams a sailor can have, and it is a credit to the way the world works that many a sailor has had them. What follows these dreams in many cases is the actual doing of the deeds. This is beautiful stuff, too, and it is at that point that the doers of these deeds need to know the secret deep down in their gut that I and many other sailors know: you are not going to get it all right. The work won’t be perfect. There will be some barked knuckles and sore backs and whole days you will not wish to see again. You will also know that you can do these things again if you choose or if you must.
And you will know one more thing. Perhaps the most important thing. When that jewel is in the water, and the work is temporarily done, and you are going to go sailing, you are gonna hit some docks, literally and figuratively. It is a characteristic of the human condition. It is how we learn. It is both how and why we tolerate imperfection. We must.
It’s OK.
Thank you to Sailrite Enterprises, Inc., for providing free access to back issues of Good Old Boat through intellectual property rights. Sailrite.com
