“I can’t change the direction of the wind, but I can adjust my sails to always reach my destination.” — Jimmy Dean
Of course, I cannot change the direction of the wind, but as I found out this week, I can’t adjust the sails either — at least not the ones on the sailboat I was on a few days ago.
I took part in a regatta, and by “took part” I mean I made a donation that earned me a seat on a small sailboat that would be part of a regatta in Swampscott. Yes, THAT Swampscott. I left the bubble of Marblehead. Shocker, I know, but people do it.
Before this, I didn’t realize that a regatta is actually a race. I thought it was a parade or a group boat ride, like the motorcycle rides that raise money. Still, it didn’t matter because I was on the boat just for kicks; it’s not like I had to plan the route or hoist anything.
Or so I thought.
As it happened, the two experienced sailors on the boat showed me how to pull the line on the jib as we came about so we could turn. It’s called “jibing” and I was pretty proud that I did it a few times. It was a gorgeous day, with white puffy clouds and a decent breeze, and I was having a great time.
Until I wasn’t
See, when you are jibing, a lot can happen if you don’t do everything just so. The boat can keel to one side; it’s called “dipping the rail,” except there was no rail on this boat, so mostly, my shorts got dipped. Plus, tiny boats, like the one I was on, can sometimes take on water; if they take on too much, the boat swamps, which is a problem if it happens when you’re heeling way over on one side.
If you’re a newb like me, you might panic, which I definitely did. My two sailing friends, however, knew what to do and yanked me back by the straps of my life jacket just before my head went under. Oh, and a pro tip: Unless you are a fish, wear a life jacket. Don’t be stupid.
Once I was back in the boat, I decided I wanted off — immediately. That’s a little hard to do from way offshore, and I’m betting some of the nearby boats that heard me shrieking, “I need to get off this boat and onto something with a motor!” were laughing hysterically at me. I didn’t care; I was scanning nearby boats to see if they would pick me up.
I also was finally using most of the swear words my mother, an accomplished sailor and Navy veteran, taught me. She was probably somewhere on the other side, laughing at me. Had she been around to witness this, she would have reminded me that knowing how to sail was about more than just saying, “Hey, sailor.”
Sailing is not easy. It might look fabulous, with graceful boats on the ocean and shiny, happy people laughing, but it’s work. You have to know the wind direction, what line is attached to which sail, and how to move the rudder around so the boat goes where you point it. You have to know what to do if it dumps or swamps or does anything else that has your backend dragging through the choppy waves.
Luckily, a power boat helping with the race marks was nearby, and I gratefully climbed aboard to ride back to dry land. Did I have fun? Absolutely. Did I learn a few things? You bet. Would I do it again? Like Chief Brody said in “Jaws,” “You’re gonna need a bigger boat.” The small boats are too close to the water for someone like me; if you’re not experienced and agile, knowing where to sit, when to move, and how to tack, you could go for an unexpected swim. Honestly, the only thing I should be trusted with on a sailboat is bringing a decent bottle of wine and a charcuterie board from Shubie’s.
It was still an adventure, and by the time I tell the story a few more times, it will likely be embellished with a shark or some other sea creature coming at me. It was for a good cause, however, and all’s well that ends well, especially on the water. Oh, and on Aug. 15, 2024, if you are so inclined, dip your toes into the sea; it’s the Feast of the Assumption, and the story goes that there is a blessing in the water on that day. I think I got mine a week early, but I can always use a few more waves.
Brenda Kelley Kim has lived in Marblehead for 50 years, and is an author, freelance writer, and mother of three. Her column appears weekly.