The most important
lesson...
reprinted with permission of SAILING Magazine July
2001
By John Kretschmer
What is it
that you actually learn on an offshore training
passage?
An
offshore passage is an unpredictable affair at
best, and for me, that's where the magic lurks. I
like planning and preparation that a passage
demands, but I also like the fact that no matter
how many oceans you've crossed, you're still never
quite sure what will happen each time you cast off
the mooring lines. You might experience the best
72 hours of sailing imaginable, you might learn
something about yourself in a gale, you might be
scared to death in a lightening storm, you might
be seasick the first day out and you might see the
green flash after a perfect sunset. A good
passage might include some of these events, a
great passage might include all or none of them.
I cherish
the spontaneity of contending with the ocean's
idiosyncrasies. Offshore seamanship is the art of
keeping ahead of those two quibbling siblings
while maintaining a sense of perspective. Mind
you, I believe fundamentally in being
well-prepared for a sea passage, but this does not
include creating a set of expectations that can't
be adjusted underway. Expectations are usually
what lead sailors headlong into trouble. I
realize that this runs contrary to the very
essence of being a so-called expert, but
personally, I can't stand experts anyway. All of
us go to sea for a variety of reasons, not the
least of which is to find a little bit of magic
that seems to be missing ashore. A structured
curriculum can snuff the magic out of an offshore
passage.
This past
year I have turned a couple of my deliveries into
training passages, with good results. I have led
a crew of five from Annapolis, Maryland to Antigua
aboard a Hylas 49 and taken another crew of five
from Key West to Isla Mujeres and back aboard a
Catalina 400. Soon I will lead another crew on
their first offshore passage when we bring the
Hylas back to Annapolis. Just what do my students
expect to learn on one of these passages?
On a
practical level, the day before we shove off, I
discuss what elements go into passage planning,
knowing when to sail where and what conditions
we're likely to encounter on our passage. From
pilot charts to long-term forecasts, anxiety of a
first offshore trip can be reduced, and having an
understanding of the task at hand also enhances
confidence. I also include an overview of basic
navigation skills and lay the framework for
teaching celestial navigation. Ironically,
celestial is alive and well in this GPS age. I am
amazed at the zeal my crewmembers have shown for
mastering this so-called outdated navigational
method.
Before
shoving off I also discuss safety and housekeeping
procedures. I am not a stickler for cast-in-stone
safety rules, but I have little tolerance for a
lack of safety sense. Harnesses should be worn
when working the deck or on a night watch.
Leaving the cockpit at night requires at least two
people on deck, and in the early going, one of
those people has to be me. We discuss man
overboard and abandon ship procedures, which are
always sobering topics. Housekeeping duties are
laid out with an emphasis on respect and sharing.
Some crewmembers hate to cook, so my feeling is
not to force them, instead let them cheerfully
tackle the clean-up chores.
Once we
shove off, I emphasize the importance of letting
your body adjust to the rhythm of a passage. I
stress the importance of getting sleep, and, don't
laugh, getting regular in terms of bodily
functions. This discussion always creates a
chuckle, but it is an important part of living
comfortably and healthily at sea. The watch
schedule is established, and this is one routine
that I don't like to alter unless I have to,
because it becomes the backbone of the passage.
Most crewmembers are surprised as the days fly
by. New skills are learned, from diesel
maintenance to trouble-shooting an electrical
problem. Subtly, the sea weaves its spell, and
the crew begins to appreciate the natural rhythm
of a passage. By the time land looms on the
distant horizon, we all feel a powerful sense of
accomplishment. For some the passage is enough,
for others it is just the beginning. I have been
introducing sailors to offshore passage making for
20 years and rarely does a month go by when I
don't receive a postcard from a former crewmember
now aboard his or her own boat, anchored in a
far-away harbor -- always richly satisfying.
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