It was a humbling day. Although I fancy myself an experienced sailor—I sailed across the Pacific Ocean in 1987—I felt totally out of control on today’s race around the buoys off Oceanside Harbor.
I forgot to tie a knot in the end of the jib line, so everything snarled when the captain raised the sail.
I forgot about balancing the boat … moving to the high side to offset the force of the wind in the sails … moving to the stern so the bow would ride high in the water.
I couldn’t remember which direction to push the tiller when we needed to tack (turn) to starboard (right).
For the first hour of our sail, I wanted to take a long walk off a short plank. And then, in a flash, I realized why this was happening. The simple fact is that a 23-ft day-sailer bears only the slimmest resemblance to my 37-ft ocean-going yacht.
On the 13-ton cruising vessel my husband and I sailed across the Pacific, nothing I did with my measly 130 pounds of body weight would have any effect on the boat’s balance. On a day-racer weighing less than 1,000 pounds, every ounce counted.
On a cruiser with a steering wheel, you drive it like a car. If you want to go to starboard, you turn the wheel to the right. On a day-sailer, you push the tiller left, exactly the opposite of what comes naturally. In fact, I was a novice, totally out of my depth.
I had to learn to sail all over again … a different type of sailing, but in its own way, just as glorious. I mean, really, what can be better than learning to sail on a sunny afternoon racing around the buoys off Oceanside.
Even if you lose the race.