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.

The bright side

Sunday was a disaster of epic proportions. And if you want to know all the many ways it went wrong, you need only read about it on Suddenly Single Journey, where I liken the experience to Gilligan's Island. Oh, but I don't want to focus on all the bad things that happened. Instead, I want to share the good stuff, too.

See, I love the water. I have always loved the water. And when we started this little adventure, we could see ourselves tooling around on a sailboat and really relaxing. At least, that is how I always imagined it.

Sam, apparently he thought that way, too. We would talk about sailing around the Caribbean and how I could be working online while he steered us in the right direction. After actually spending a day sailing, neither of us is so sure it's going to be that way anymore.

Sailing is actually a bit of work. And I seemed to bear the brunt of it as we sailed.

The Catalina that we took out was significantly smaller than Lancer, the set up is completely different, and I felt a whole less secure on it since there are no railings on it. See, I had to handle the sails. It was my responsibility to raise the jib and the main. I had to walk out to the bow while the boat was moving and undo the bungee around the jib then raise it and secure it. The main had to be untied in three spots, then raised and secured also. That was way less scary.

I learned how to tack. I just have to remember to be more vocal. I kept forgetting to say ready. I would just look at Sam and Buddy expectantly while holding the jib sheet. My bad.

Oh, but there is so much to love about sailing. It was so peaceful out on the water. It was absolutely perfect. I love the smell of the salt air. There were porpoises. I kept saying dolphins, but was corrected repeatedly. And Sam just smiled at me every time.

We saw the sunset. We saw the moon rise. We did what I was afraid to do: night sailing. I had read so much about it from others that I knew it could be dangerous. Things can happen night sailing, bad things, when you can't see where you're going and the only light provided is by stars and the moon. Luckily, our moon was full and we weren't that far from shore at any given time. We didn't head out to the open sea this trip.

Sam and I had spoken about sailing much in the days before. He had warned me that I needed to be serious. It's not that I'm not serious. I knew exactly what he meant. I have this way of being clumsy and making mistakes. Instead of getting upset about them, I just giggle. Sam usually finds it to be both amusing and charming, but he knew that a sailing lesson was serious. So did I. This is our future we're talking about.

There was no giggling. And I have to tell you, I was really proud of myself. Not because of the giggling, but because of how much I learned, how hard I worked, and how much out of my comfort zone I was. I never saw sailing as something particularly athletic. Now, I see it differently. And apparently, I'm something of a natural despite the fact that I'm not particularly athletic.

Buddy and Sam were talking and I heard him say that he could tell I had been on sailboats before....only I haven't. And I took to the knots fairly quickly. I can tie off really well at the cleat. And I surprised even myself with my ability to jump off the boat and onto the dock from pretty big distances when we were docking. I had to man the bow line. It was scary.

Still, none of my fears came true. I stayed dry, for the most part. I didn't get hit with the boom. (I was way too short for that.) And I didn't make a total fool of myself. Heck, I was even good!

I can't wait to go again. I want to learn everything, soak up all the knowledge I can. I'm ready for our adventure to begin.

So, Sunday

That's when it looks like we'll be having our first sailing lesson. The weather today...while really windy...not great for sailing. And so, we'll be leaving tomorrow morning and heading for Charleston.

We won't be staying over. We'll make a day trip of it. I'm sure we'll be back late. No problem. I'm great at surviving on little sleep. Hey, I didn't say I was pleasant and fun to be around, I just said that I could survive and mostly function.

I'm thinking Sam should drive. I'm thinking that since Sam won't be working on Monday and I will. See where I'm going with this?

So, I guess I should study before I make a total fool of myself on water. I tend to be a pretty fast study. I just need to find time to study. Hmmmm. And I guess that means that I need to get off the computer to accomplish that.

Would anyone have words of advice? What do I really need to know to not make a fool of myself? I only ask this because I don't have a great history of boat related firsts.

The first time I tried to water ski, it went badly. I was fourteen, out with my Jennie and her family. The boat was a speedboat we took out on Lake Champlain. It kept stalling out at the most inopportune moments. I'd be just about up and suddenly find myself doing a face plant in the water when the motor would kick in once more, dragging me behind, sucking in water while everyone screamed for me to let go.

Then there was my first time canoeing. I was trying to get into the canoe, being cautious, stepping in the middle. Only, the kid in the back of the canoe pushed off while I was only halfway in. Suddenly, I found myself doing a split as I tried to decide whether to jump for the boat or the dock. The choice was made for me and I landed in the water.

My concern? I'm thinking sailing is going to be somewhere in the middle. *sigh* Insert words of comfort...here. I'll be eager to tell you all about it one way or another on Monday.

If I make it.