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An admitted fair-weather sailor

Karen cooks, at left, and leaves the foul-weather driving to Jerry, below.

Issue 29 : Mar/Apr 2003

Karen cooks, at left, and leaves the foul-weather driving to Jerry, below.
Karen cooks, at left, and leaves the foul-weather driving to Jerry, below.

I just dropped my foul-weather gear in a dripping pile on the cabin floor. Small rivulets run off into the bilge. An old towel will mop up the rest. Dry again, I think once more about how our 1976 sailboat reminds us of an earlier time — one when men were men and all sailors (men and women) were often soaking wet.

Our cockpit offers no protection from the rain and mist that surrounds us. There is no canvaswork — not a dodger, not a Bimini. We say we don’t want frames and plastic windows and the canvas barriers they present to crawl around. We say these devices prevent us from seeing the sail shape and limit 360-degree visibility.

But the truth is that we can’t install a dodger or Bimini on Mystic. Our boom is too low to make it feasible. For this we get a larger mainsail and full exposure to the elements. Today, when the elements limit visibility to less than a mile anyway, and rain pours from our visors and reduces our glasses to blurry face shields, we think kinder thoughts of dodgers and Biminis, and we long for some protection from the relentless elements.

During these times, I usually find as many excuses as possible to be below. We both know I’m doing this. The galley suddenly has an attraction like never before. I bake bread or muffins, make hot tea, prepare meals, wash the dishes — all with a gusto I don’t usually feel.

Our “navigation suite” (if that’s not too grand a term for use on Mystic) takes on new significance, too. Suddenly I find the radar and GPS infinitely fascinating, and I decide Jerry needs more navigation assistance from below. From where it’s dry. From where it’s protected from the wind. I figure if only one of us has to be cold and miserable it might as well be . . . Jerry. I’ll take my turn at the helm, but I don’t want to go on deck just to make idle conversation.

Until the weather clears, I’m the first to volunteer to do all the jobs that need to be done belowdecks. I’m an admitted fair-weather sailor. Call me when the sun is shining again.

Thank you to Sailrite Enterprises, Inc., for providing free access to back issues of Good Old Boat through intellectual property rights. Sailrite.com

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