My first fender bender, sailboat style

Being on board felt natural, right. When I was sailing, I felt even better. The wind was on my face, the sun was setting. That was the scene as we left the dock and headed out of the marina for our second sailing lesson.

I don't think, especially after having read the title, that to say there was much foreshadowing of the events to come would be a gross exaggeration. Nope. We started to reverse out of the slip, but the motor didn't seem powerful enough, not against the tide. It was coming in. And our motor was a 25hp outboard.

We waited a few minutes. We plotted. We planned. And the new plan was that we would walk the boat as far back, angled to take off, since no sailboat is particularly powerful in reverse. It was a good plan.

Our captain was at the wheel. I was sitting. Sam and Jonathon were untying the lines and pushing us off. It worked. We were headed in the right direction and making our way out of the marina, even if we had just narrowly missed about four boats. And I'm talking inches, not feet.

Still, we were breathing again and motoring past the bridge before we opened the main. The boat, a 27 foot Lancer, is more than respectable. And with the sails out, soooo very beautiful. Needless to say, we were aching to unfurl the genoa.

Sam was at the helm for the bulk of the trip. At the same time, I needed to learn how to sail the boat, too, just like he needed to know how to man the sails. So, we switched off. And I have to tell you, it felt good at the helm.

I felt, in the open water, like I could do no wrong. Even though Sam had to rely on the wind vane, I somehow felt it on my face and was able to steer and veer accordingly. It just felt right, like I had been doing it for much longer than I had been. There were a few scares for both of us, he came too close to a tanker, I couldn't get far enough away from a buoy. (It took me too long to understand what side of it I was supposed to be on and I had to wait for the boat to respond.)

We were out there for hours. And sure enough, we were heading back in, once again dealing with the tide. I was still at the helm, motoring in. That's when the captain decided I should be docking the boat.

Sam had docked last time...against a dock, not in a slip, certainly not around other boats. And I was suddenly very afraid. This dreamer knows her limitations.

me: Please don't make me do this. I really don't feel ready.

Captain: You did great. And you need to know how to dock.

Mmmmkay. Only, I really didn't see why I needed to learn to dock at that very moment. Nope. Not in the dark. Not dealing with the tide.

And I was right. Or it could have been my lack of confidence. But mostly, I think I was right. I wasn't ready.

It was like watching a train wreck.

There were screams to 'fend off.' That's pretty much where everyone scrambles to push off and prevent a collision with the other boats. We need to work on that...a lot. It was like bumper boats. We hit the outboard of the first boat, the bow of the second, grazed the stern of a third. We somehow made it toward the slip through what I can only imagine was sheer dumb luck or well aimed ricochet.

And we were coming in fast. Sam was over the side trying to push us off, slow us down, but it didn't help. We crushed the dock box. That's not an expression. It was literally crushed. And then before we could tie off, we were sliding toward the huge baycruiser next to us. Jonathon successfully fended off.

Finally, we were stopped. I was shaking. Sam was cursing. And the captain was trying to calm us down. The side of the boat was scratched. It was only superficial, but about four feet long. The guys left me to clean up the topside of our boat while they grabbed flashlights and went to examine the other boats.

When they returned, after determining all was well, we decided the dock box had to be dealt with immediately. Thanks to some tools and a cart, it was dumped and cleaned up within minutes.

I worried over how Sam would feel about sailing after that incident. I figured he would sour on sailing completely. Instead, his enthusiasm hasn't faltered. He's a true sailor. Well, he certainly swears like one.