Losing a dodger means gaining a view
Issue 62 : Sept/Oct 2008
Our big dodger covered the bridge deck and extended to the sides of the cabintop, making a convenient stowage place for jackets, sweaters, binoculars, and spring lines. We kept a couple of fenders up there, and the cat liked to snooze on a coil of reefing ties next to a thermos of hot coffee.
But the once spanking-new fabric was badly faded and threadbare in places. The not-so-clear plastic was so cracked and crazed it was impossible to see through it in the rain. Metal fasteners were tearing away from the shrunken fabric, and the aluminum framing was wobbly.
When we finally traced a leak to the failed bedding compound under a supporting frame mount, that did it: we’d have to replace our faithful shipmate. The problem was that we had just fitted roller furling and been faced with a big haulout in the spring. We’d have to make do without the dodger for a while. That was 10 years ago.
That first summer without cockpit canvas we got the sky back. Up to the masthead and down, off to port and starboard, close in to the waterline and all the way to the horizon . . . suddenly we were in touch with the sailor’s environment again. And there were other advantages: taking the dodger off gave us more control when docking under windy conditions and reduced windage at anchor. It was like getting an extra 50 feet of scope.
Clear view ahead
Its removal cleaned up the deck in other ways too. We took the dinghy off the deck and towed it in all but the worst weather, opening up a clear view ahead. Keeping a good lookout is at the heart of good seamanship.
Apart from safety considerations, sailing well requires careful reading of the water and its varying textures. You’ve got to see it coming to get the best grip on the wind, well before you feel it on your face or find it indicated on an instrument. It’s this careful monitoring of the wind, when zephyrs arrive on little cats’ feet, that allows some boats to pass others when least expected.
But there are other, less tangible benefits to sailing in an open cockpit. Rowing the dinghy to shore, I look back and see our boat lying there, more beautiful than she was before, more what Bruce King had in mind when he drew that pretty hull. It’s longer and lower with a sheer that sweeps back from the bow to the cockpit and up again to that lovely tumblehome, one sweet and continuous line.
It’s a personal thing, this matter of the cockpit as a refuge from the elementsor as a way to get closer to nature. There are times when we miss the shelter afforded by a dodger, especially when sailing with guests. But in an open cockpit we sail closer to the company of killer whales and Dall’s porpoises. We feel more a part of the wild world when we keep less between it and us.
Thank you to Sailrite Enterprises, Inc., for providing free access to back issues of Good Old Boat through intellectual property rights. Sailrite.com
