When Less Really IS More - the view from the outside, in

Here's another one that I also published in the Capital, under the title The View From the Outside In. One of the things we love about being in a boat is the escape from the modern jangle; a return to the original power and solitude of the sea. Technology is so insidious, though, I love it and hate it simultaneously - love it for its connectedness and efficiency, hate it, well, for the same exact reason, because sometimes I just need to get away!

One of the great things about the Annapolis boating scene is the interesting folks you meet who are passing through. In the last month we met one of those, Hinnerk, a German solo sailor supporting himself as a writer and photographer for a German sailing magazine. He was visiting the Chesapeake for a while on his way to sail the “Great Loop” – up the US East Coast, across through the Great Lakes, and down the Mississippi (or Tennessee/Tombigbee) to the Gulf Coast and around Florida, essentially making a circle around the eastern 1/3 of the U.S. We had wonderful conversations about our respective boating adventures, but the most interesting conversations came when we were seeing through his eyes: things that we here in the US take for granted that are done differently in Europe, and vice versa. Some of these were minor and of interest only to other boaters; the Coast Guard is more of a radio presence here than there – is that a good thing, or do you cease to pay attention when you hear them too often? Skills testing and licensing is required to operate a boat there, not here – is raising the bar a good thing, or does it keep too many people from appreciating the sport? Some were more universal: we stood at a bar one night mesmerized by the weather radar map showing intense storms and tornado warnings – apparently they don’t have many tornadoes in Germany. Or osprey, although there was some comment that I only partially caught, the rest was lost in the wind, about “fish-eagle.”He showed us some cool weighted line with a lead center (at least, ‘cool’ is a relative term, if you’re a boater you’d realize how lovely this very heavy line could be for anchoring) that we’d never heard about this side of the Atlantic. We suggested some great quiet anchorages to get wildlife photos for an article he was working on; and took him out in our dinghy to get some photos of the ELF classic boat race last Saturday.

I got new insights into simplicity from meeting this man. His boat was old, tiny (31 feet) and almost Spartan by the standards of the American market. We raise our anchor with the touch of a button on an electric windlass, he hoists his hand over hand, getting an upper body workout and a dose of Chesapeake Bay bottom muck as well. We move our dinghy with a 10-hp outboard engine, he uses oars. And yet, this small old simple sailboat had safely taken him around northern Europe, and across the Atlantic and from the Bahamas to Newfoundland. When he docked, he walked across the deck with unhurried but sure steps, a balance and confidence that came from time spent on this boat in all conditions.

So many people have written about the link between sailing and simplicity – how you have to pare down your possessions to the essentials and give up the race to keep up with the Joneses or acquire the latest technogadget or knickknack, in order to fit into the physical space and other constraints of life aboard. Yet if you’re not careful, the glossy magazines and sometimes the less-scrupulous boat brokers will convince you of just the opposite - that you can’t go to sea without a big new boat and a plethora of instruments and safety gadgets and comforts. You may have to work another 5 years to afford the money to buy a boat equipped with the stuff you ‘need.’ Meanwhile, here we were with someone who’d gone smaller, simpler, sooner. Perhaps he didn’t have the newest and shiniest boat, but he was already embarked on his adventure. In that context, watching the classic boats was doubly symbolic – these guys didn’t have electronics when they made their voyages either.

The most impressive thing, though, that I saw through outsider eyes was the difference between “nice to have” and “gotta have.” Or between “comfortable” and “pampered.” And wondered if those lines had been blurred here in the US. His boat had just the right amount of everything, with no excess. Liferaft? Yup, mandatory. Flat-screen TV? Nope, luxury. GPS and radio? Yes.Chartplotter? Well, despite glossy boat magazine ads to the contrary, not really, as long as alertness and seamanship are there. The end result of all this is safe and comfortable although not pampered. And, here’s the big one: keeping the distinction clear meant he could begin his trip sooner, while others were still working in offices to afford the boat and shiny new gear they thought they needed. Conditions are magnified, and contrasts are sharper, on a small boat in the ocean than in a large house on land, but really the basic idea is the same. Knowing the difference between want and need is really the secret to much happiness, lack of financial stress, and the path to many adventures.

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Notes: Photos copyright 2011 Hinnerk Weiler, used by permission. If you can read German (or just want to look at the photos), Hinnerk’s website is here.

The link to the description of the May 21 “ELF Classic Yacht Race” that appeared in the Capital has expired, the text read: “Shortly after 8:30 am a train whistle will blow at the Eastport Yacht Club.
The skippers will row out to their waiting, crew ready yachts, once on deck,
caps doffed, anchors will be raised, sails set and the race across the bay
to the Chesapeake Bay Maritime Museum will begin! Upon arrival in St
Michaels, the yacht secured, skippers will row ashore, sign in at the
Tolchester Band Stand on the grounds of CBMM registering that yacht's
finish. Awards and festivities will follow that evening. The Classic Yacht
Restoration Guild, CYRG, owner of the 1888 Lawley Built Top Sail Cutter ELF
has recreated this race from an 1800's tradition in Marblehead, MA in which
ELF participated. This fundraising event is for the CBMM where ELF
homeports.”

ALIVE FOR FIVE!!!!!

(A post that has nothing whatsoever to do with living on a boat … or does it?)

Five years ago last week Dan came home from leading a sailing trip as a volunteer for the Naval Academy, four and a half days on a 44-foot sailboat running offshore 24/7 with a crew of 9 midshipmen, complaining that he was feeling tired and headachy. Um, really? Considering what you’ve been doing, that doesn’t seem so surprising, does it? But what was surprising was that after a couple of days of rest, that he felt worse instead of better. And a couple of days after that, found ourselves in the emergency room at Anne Arundel Medical Center. There was a tumor in his brain the size of an egg.

All over the internet and in magazines are articles and seminars and therapists and life coaches dedicated to “helping you find your passion.” There’s another way, although not one that I’d recommend. I found my passion instantly, a split second after our family doctor met us at the hospital, and honestly told us, “The prognosis is not good.” I knew what mattered most in my life, what I was proudest of, what I valued, what I was glad I had had the chance to experience, and what I’d miss the most.

In Dan’s case, there was surgery, radiation, rehab; a long and uncertain summer; and then getting back to work again, the delight of a routine of ordinary days. A big shout-out to Drs. Burke, Chawla, Gordon, and Graze and the staff at AAMC; and a deep appreciation for the tremendous support from our families, friends, and marina community. Last Sunday we celebrated five cancer-free years. We had a huge party and a five-foot sandwich from Subway that actually became a nine-foot sandwich because we had so many attendees. We lit a candle and took a moment to remember the names of those who are still fighting and those who we’ve lost; and donated $5 to cancer research for every person who attended; and laughed a lot and cried a little.

So what does all of this have to do with sailing or living on a boat? It’s that thing about knowing what your passion is, and doing it. It’s about making plans instead of excuses because you just never know. Excuses abound: we don’t have the money for a new boat … and maybe we should wait until the kids are out of grad school … our parents are getting older and might need us … and … and … and … Some of those reasons are even logical and practical. There’s always next year … until suddenly there isn’t. One sunny Satuday morning in May the door to our future almost slammed shut in our faces. Dan went from being a fit very healthy fifty-something to one of those people they whisper about in the hospital corridors. It’s not just sailing, of course, though that happens to be my particular thing. It’s whatever’s big and new and scary and important in your life, however you fill in the blank in the sentence that begins, “Someday I wish I could ___.” My friend RoseAnn claims that dreams like those have a shelf life. The problem is, the “do by” date on dreams isn’t stamped in any ink you can read.

Photo: Beam me up, Scotty - right to sickbay on the Starship Enterprise ... or at least, the then-brand-new Novalis machine at AAMC

Photo: surrounded by friends, celebrating life on the fifth anniversary of the original cancer surgery

(By the way, here’s a secret trick to figuring out your passion, a way that’s not quite so dramatic as my moment of clarity in the emergency room. Your passion is that thing that you’re doing, when you lose all track of time. It could be sailing or art or gardening – hopefully its something more productive than drinking beer – but it’s that thing you were doing when you finally take a break and look at the clock and say, “Wow! I can’t believe it’s 9:30 already! I was so absorbed, I even forgot to eat!” )

===The same article appeared on my Life Afloat blog===

===More photos are on our cruising blog===