Being raised in the Midwest, I didn’t know how much I would love the waters of the Chesapeake Bay.
When I was twenty-one (forty-six years ago), I was introduced to sailing.
I made a lot of mistakes when I was learning this new craft.
My daughter still talks about the time I threw the anchor in the water and forgot to tie the line (rope) on the cleat, thus diminishing any attempt at preventing the boat from drifting into the rocks.
I recall how exasperated Katie was with my lack of expertise; she quickly jumped off the vessel to safety as we approached the bulrushes along the shore. She was leery to ever board my sailboat again.
Many times in my life, I have felt like I was on the verge of hitting a narrow gully – strewn with boulders.
Indeed, I have been in close quarters that warranted my most sincere attention.
Being in “harms way,” a popular nautical term defines a condition that might result in one’s peril.
Once, when on a forty-foot racing vessel, my foot got caught in the loose sails; I was assured I was going overboard (as the crew was rounding the first marker of the competitive course).
Prayerfully, this didn’t happen, but its dangerous if you aren’t paying attention to your surroundings.
In sailing lingo, you sail “close-hauled” if you want to be the winner of the race. By ratcheting your sails in tight – staying as close to the wind as possible, you move through the water the quickest.
In the fastest point of sail, the boom will be close to your boats centerline; if you’re doing it right, your gib and main sheet will not be luffing.
Peering up at the mast, your tell-tales (small ribbons that indicate proper airflow) will prove your sails are trimmed just right.
It’s simply amazing: you are blowing through the water; at times you can be sailing faster than the true wind speed.
What mastery one feels when sailing upwind in this efficiently fine-tuned position.
If only situations in life (metaphorically speaking) could stay like that.
Read my next post about “running with the wind.”
Spiritual Voyages 