Community
"She's learning to trust you too."
Jackie's response to my comment of getting to know and trust Sea Fire has been playing on my mind since she said it. She suggests that the boat needs to trust us as much as we need to trust her. I'm not much for superstition, but it doesn't offend me and I find it whimsical and sometimes comforting and perhaps it gives me a sense of control in situations where we have little. So I pay small observences here and there on the off chance that bigger forces are at play. Treating Sea Fire as if she has a soul/spirit/essence/something makes me happy, and certainly there is a practical reciprocity to it. Treat her well and she will treat you well. Preventative maintenance, polishing, checking, double checking, triple checking. Care. You are more likely to notice if something is off and catch problems before they spiral.
Practical Sailor, an industry trusted source of boat knowledge, professed that a person should repair three things before departing for a weekend of boating. Three things, because two things will always break on a trip. A sailor hopes that the sailing gods will accept the three repair offering and make the two breakages small ones, and that a third break will not be catastrophic.
Anyways, contrary to the introduction, this post isn't about whether boats have souls or theories of compounding calamity (its not the first mistake that screws you, its the third). Its actually about community. Jackie's comment on boat trust offered a new perspective I hadn't considered. Jean and I have wonderful friends and family who, from landlocked Alberta, immersed themselves into sailing culture. They have been learning and questioning and listening to our endless stories about dodging lobster traps and trouble with anchoring, weird grinding sounds on the prop and unresolved stray current. One thing we haven't had was conversation with people who are - sorry for this - in the same boat as us.
We took quite a bit of pride in being on the water far before the season began. At several major ports (Martha's Vineyard and Newport), we were the first "transient" visitors, and we felt pretty hardcore to be out in the sub zero temperatures when noone else was braving the elements. We shoveled snow off the boat, wore all our jackets at the same time while sailing, and always had windburn on our noses and bloodshot eyes. Glory aside, as first time boat owners we didn't know what counts as normal. It seemed something broke every day and we wondered if Sea Fire was a lemon. Would everything have to be fixed or replaced for her to be sea worthy? Should we have purchased the much newer Allures over in Turkey? Certainly it would have been warmer in Turkey than our Jan/Feb/March in Connecticut. Our only sounding boards were Pete and Justin, broker extraordinaire and yard manager at Safe Harbor, respectively. Both have been generous with their time and knowledge, but professional relationships lack the comraderie and comiseration we would have benefitted from.
Alongside proposing new perspectives on boat trust, Jackie and Gary on Grey Goose (a trawler and power boat, though we don't hold it against them), who we met in Halifax, told of working on the boat and their exhaust stack tower practically falling over when leaned on; Hans and Heinke aboard SV (sailing vessel) Makaan asked how many lobster traps we caught so far (6 for them, 4 for us); Gerald and Brigitte on SV Doucema needing a coast guard rescue and major prop and rudder rebuild after snagging lobster lines. Everyone has been through much, and hearing their stories has normalized the experience. Our troubles pale in comparison to Hans
and Heike who installed a new engine about a year ago, and yet they continue on. Boats are challenging and costly, and still this life is worth it.
Strategies are compared as well as challenges. "what are your night watch schedules," Becky from SV Pantala asked when we had coffee in Lunenberg (3 hours on and 3 hours off for us, they split the nights. One person goes till 1am and the other until 6am). And yesterday we told Hans and Heinke our borescope was employed as a camera on a stick to check out our keel and propeller. Later that afternoon we saw Hans in his dinghy peering underneath his boat, possibly with his own jury rigged camera on a stick.
Frankly, until Lunenberg we hadn't spoken to anyone in person other than merchants (servers, marina personnel, mechanics) since leaving Calgary in January. I joke that we had turned a bit feral, but its not far from the truth. We were deprived of human connection and as a result were immediately enamoured by the first sailors we encountered. Now. Don't get me wrong. Becky and Nat abord Pantala (a gorgeous 47' aluminum Boreal) are incredibly cool people and we hope to spend more time with them this summer, but we were practically fauning over them.
The connections continued in Halifax where we visited with several of Jean's colleagues from a previous life. Everyone we visited has transcended past 'colleagues' and are now firmly cemented in the friend category. We have plans to visit them when we return to Halifax in the fall, possibly even connecting at their homes on the Northumberland Strait. There was reminiscing, joking, and connection, as happens in the best of conversations. Hearing that it was my first time in Halifax, two friends took the time to show us around, driving to interesting sights and talking about the history of the area. We went for lunches and dinners and appetizers, enjoying the culture of the city with people who love it.
Then there are Jackie and Gary on "The Goose." Arriving at the anchorage after us, they came over in their dinghy and touched base with us about their anchor position and strategy, an incredibly welcome and collaborative process. We had some back and forth about the winds and re-positioning our boats over the following days, and one thing led to another. We were invited to their boat for Sundowners.
Until recently, the term just meant "cocktails" to me. But a YouTube video educated us about some boat etiquitte and we looked further into the unwritten rules/social norms for sundowners, a time honored tradition on the water. Boats are limited by resources so bring your own alcohol, water, and glassware along with a small casual snack to share. You don't want the host using their limited stores of water to wash dishes for you, or emptying their liquor cabinet that is not as easy to stock as at home, so bring your empties, dirties, and garbage back with you. We grabbed all our things, dinghied over to The Goose (we really need a cool nickname for Sea Fire, "The Goose" is inspired), and went aboard. They obviously hadn't read the same article as us. There was a spread of appetizers on the table and wine was offered. When asked, Gary said they don't know "the rules," and just do what they want. A good reminder for us to not take things so seriously. Later that week we returned the favour and hosted them on Sea Fire. Both were delightful evenings and firsts for us. We have kept in contact since and hope to cross paths this winter in The Bahamas.
The boating community is generous and it seems if someone needs help, those around will rally to the call. All you have to do is swing by in the dinghy and introduce yourself while at anchor, send nearby boats a message on the community forum, or say hello if you spot each other on land. After that first touch you are connected, henceforth to give what you can when there is trouble, celebrate when trouble is fixed, and get together when you find yourselves nearby.
The other day a boat in our marina was stepping their mast and Jean lent his mind and muscle to the job for a few hours. Jean is a helper, and the job was was a joy for him, but it also built goodwill through relationship. Sailors help sailors.
Mr. Rogers said to always look for the helpers. We are looking forward to being that for others and having others to lean on, even if its just to be frustrated that the transmission is making a sound... again.
And back to the idea of boats having an essence. Sea Fire's generator typiclly starts easier for me than Jean. Every time it fires up I pat her hull and whisper a thank you. Coincidence or psycic phenomena? I don't think too hard about it but I'm certainly pleased when it happens.
-Christine
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