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Helmophobia

Is it that watching telltales gives her a stiff neck or that bundling up to steer the cold Lake Superior breezes — over a life jacket to boot — makes her feel like the Michelin Man? Whatever the reason, Karen doesn’t take well to the helm.

Hand and reef, I’m in . . . but must I also steer?

Is it that watching telltales gives her a stiff neck or that bundling up to steer the cold Lake Superior breezes — over a life jacket to boot — makes her feel like the Michelin Man? Whatever the reason, Karen doesn’t take well to the helm.
Is it that watching telltales gives her a stiff neck or that bundling up to steer the cold Lake Superior breezes — over a life jacket to boot — makes her feel like the Michelin Man? Whatever the reason, Karen doesn’t take well to the helm.

Issue 95 : Mar/Apr 2014

After more than 20 years of sailing, I have finally figured out that I lack the knack for steering. Apparently I just don’t have the right combination of skills. I’ll do deck work. I’ll be right there with lines and fenders when docking. I’ll get the sails up and down. I’ll climb up on the cabintop to reef the main. When tacking, jibing, or launching the spinnaker, count on me. Time to anchor? I’m there! I can navigate from place to place. I can handle provisioning for a week or two or three. I’ll make the cabin cozy. I’m generally cheerful and seldom seasick. But I’m reluctant to take the helm.

I’m just not that good at it. Perhaps I’m not motivated to improve that skill as long as there’s someone else aboard who is better. Or maybe I lack the attention span for long periods of time spent at the helm. With a whole lake to cross and after just five or 10 minutes behind the wheel, I’m looking for any excuse to escape that responsibility. It’s not that I won’t stand my watch. I’m happy to stand a watch day or night . . . with the assistance of the Autohelm. Unfortunately, that noisy little device spoils the intense quiet of our sailing time. And it uses a lot of battery power. Or the sea state confounds it. When the Autohelm won’t work, I do my best for as long as I can and then find a way to give command of the ship back to Jerry. He’s happy there. I’m happy to be nearby and doing those other tasks.

Please don’t even mention backing the boat. Honest, I’ve tried! Jerry is positive that backing Mystic is as easy as driving a car in reverse. She has none of those bad habits that drive other skippers wild when arriving at or leaving the dock. So he says. Maneuvering in close quarters takes all the relaxation out of the sailing experience for me. Please don’t make me do it. As soon as I get into a — shall we just call it a “situation”? — I beg the skipper to take over and save our boat from disgrace (and perhaps an expensive insurance claim).

This coming season our second boat — the project boat with the tiller — will be launched. I have had very little experience with a tiller on any boat. I understand the concept well enough, but I fear the combination of my limited skill at the helm and the increased sensitivity of the tiller. Or it could go the other way for me. Who knows? Maybe I’ll excel at tiller steering. Perhaps that’s exactly what I’ve needed all along. Could be! Or perhaps in a year or two you’ll read a further confession in these pages regarding the realities of tiller steering for those of limited attention spans.

I have no doubt that I can bring us home if necessary. That scenario doesn’t trouble me as it does some sailing wives. And I do admit to being a sailing wife. That’s not a disgraceful title. On the contrary! Many sailors would give a great deal to have a sailing wife! We are not co-equals on our boat. Jerry started sailing long before I did and we’ve both been learning together for the couple of decades since. For the kind of cruising we do, he has more practice, more experience, and more confidence than I do. We both like our wilderness cruising and are comfortable in our roles aboard. Neither one of us has rounded Cape Horn, nor has any ambition to do so. For the sort of cruising we like to do, however, we make a good team.

I am confident that I can get our boat home (and docked!) safely. I may not get us home with the same grace that would be shown by my favorite captain. I certainly won’t get there as fast. Before we started cruising, Jerry spent years racing in a one-design fleet three days a week. As a result, he watches telltales and tweaks sails and follows the wind in all the ways a proper helmsman should. So he squeezes every 10th of a knot out of her and steers in a straight line too.

Once on the boat, my attention is diverted by the lovely play of light on the water, the nearby wildlife, the shoreline attractions, and yes, the navigation. I am already out there on the water where I want to be. What’s the hurry now?

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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