Some claim that Fear of God will keep them on the right track in life and on the right side of the road. Isn't that conveniently one of the basic moral and practical safeguards against the depths of insanity and chaos?
My simple adage at sea has always been Fear the Sea (Awe, not the shivering, not being afraid but rather the big Angst, the deepest respect). This devise will keep me from doing all the plain stupid things I fancy improvising (as in: overly dangerous actions with a next to certain negative outcome). Mariner common sense and seaworthiness Best Practices are my best safeguard against premature mental decay.
But of course, risk-taking is just so much fun. As Joseph Conrad puts it: " Everything can be found at sea according to the spirit of your quest."
Much inspiration in sailing as in life comes from books. After having read Hemingway as a kid, I was struck by this book written by the Hays (father David and son Daniel): My Old Man and the Sea
.
In the best seller, they describe their journey of personal rediscovery while sailing around Cape Horn on a very small boat they had even built together.
Daniel Hays's own second best seller (depicting his endeavors on an island up Nova Scotia) gives a witty must-read for those who think of ever leaving the world at all and settle forever somewhere remote.
Daniel Hays's fine and funny book:
On Whale Island: Notes from a Place I Never Meant to Leave
Closer to home, we had a plan for a short sail trip over a cold and wet long week-end of May. Destination: the Wadden islands (Vlieland) from the Port of IJmuiden (Amsterdam Seaport in Holland). So far so good.
We had done some Waddenzee sailing (Wadden Sea) together before and we knew basically what to expect as a two-team at Sea. The boat was nearly perfectly prepared (and this blog revolves of course about the wording: 'nearly').
In retrospect, small factors have led to the plan's failure (not that it had any serious consequence). The end is not dramatic - but for me, just very illustrative of the sea's complete mastering power.
Factor 1: I had a small split in the Genua not repaired before we left to sea. This detail - as it turned - nailed us down after a two hours rack north west into the north sea. The most shameful I am about the fact I knew this was not OK and needed repair before sailing out (any long time sailing amateur knows a spilt or a small rip in the sail will quickly turn into a major tear). So, deep down I did expect a revenge from below - just didn't know when.
"The Sea at all risks, come on, a little split in the sail won't hurt that much..." I knew the drill from a few bad seas but nevertheless did nothing in due time. Here she was, in full ornate, the mother of all shipwrecks - overconfidence in its most stupid form.
Compas Deining Ijmuiden mei2010 from Jerome Bertrand on Vimeo.
But obviousley, flirting with risk is and was an appealing thing to do for this year's first trip out...
This is the second factor, factor 2 (that fuels up the speed toward failure): wrong route planning. I had followed the weather evolution for a few weeks and was actually planning the anti-clockwise trip (so inland IJsselmeer going North, after the Dam toward Waddenzee, the west round north holland) as a matter of common sense. But no, I had to try something new and more exciting.
At the last moment I decided to take the more risky option...for whatever reason available.
There is indeed so much joy in taking risks. One even tends to relish the part where one comes to work out and resolve all possible details before departure. Minimizing risks, rationalizing in fact anticipating any statistics that could arise at any moment - a mental sport - keeps you away from the right and only decision.
The Sea will prevail whatever you do to guarantee your safety, your well being or mental comfort. Insanity is watching you at each wave waiting for the right moment to strike you hard with no warning.
This is the fun part.
One creates a virtual equilibrium between action and acceptance, thought and patience. Meanwhile, nature just waits for you to add up mistakes.
The idea that one could actually befriend the Sea is an illusion - in fact, dangerous at its core. Your mindset - when inappropriate - will force a decisive, negative outcome from the start. One learns from bad, or much better, worse experiences - but those cannot be avoided mentally. This is where the best marine literature bring some descriptions of personal (real life) catastrophies, loosing of one's mind, wrecking the crew and the boat, and eventually loss of life. A nice recall of this type I read years ago in that beautiful book about Donald Crowhurst's last sailing voyage around the globe (The Sailor's Classics, 1970 by Nicholas Tomalin and Ron Hall) : THE STRANGE LAST VOYAGE OF DONALD CROWHURST
So, get wounded and get punished for your overconfidence. Be taught by nature itself. There is no peace for the Wicked, no escape but in pure respect for the Sea - even in mental breakdown or in death.
More factors adding at a fast pace now...Our trip starts joyfully at a rendez-vous in Amsterdam harbor, just behind the Central Station. All went just clockwork perfect! The night arrival at IJmuiden gave us a sense of direction and liberation as the air transports its salty harvest at every closing mile: we're sailing towards the sun at last!
Unfortunately my left ribs remain painstaking from a small stupid accident that morning just before leaving (factor 3), and I cannot sleep more than 2 hours straight that night (just before taking the morning tide of 6 o'clock). There you go: another negative point (factor 4) to add to a growing list of aggravating factors that alone seem harmless.
Loss of complete control was just lurking: the list was still short and everything looked all right, but even a moron saw that the pattern set out to grow much earlier and exponentially. It is the sum of all little things at a given moment of inattention that makes the Sea take over - radically with no sorriy. Just wait and see.
Two hours later, sailing north west with a little force 4, my Genua showed some shredding when I just got an automatic glimpse over the horizon. My ribs were still sore and I figured that we still had a 12 to 15 hours sailing effort to do toward first the first port Den Helder, tacking 100 times against the cold wind. This is when the trip ended: I decided to sail back right away (instead of waiting more dead time), heading south to IJmuiden but of course now against 4 knots of tidal current.
Well, the Sea decided, not me. For which I a ever grateful.
We spent the rest of this trip sailing around the Markermeer, north of Amsterdam (no wind at all!). Laid back, with no ambition. We had plenty of time left to reflect on the good things in life, like the complete, sudden loss of control that is quite liberating even to Free minds like ours, and ponder about some other life trivialities that matter more.
My simple adage at sea has always been Fear the Sea (Awe, not the shivering, not being afraid but rather the big Angst, the deepest respect). This devise will keep me from doing all the plain stupid things I fancy improvising (as in: overly dangerous actions with a next to certain negative outcome). Mariner common sense and seaworthiness Best Practices are my best safeguard against premature mental decay.
But of course, risk-taking is just so much fun. As Joseph Conrad puts it: " Everything can be found at sea according to the spirit of your quest."
Much inspiration in sailing as in life comes from books. After having read Hemingway as a kid, I was struck by this book written by the Hays (father David and son Daniel): My Old Man and the Sea
.In the best seller, they describe their journey of personal rediscovery while sailing around Cape Horn on a very small boat they had even built together.
Daniel Hays's own second best seller (depicting his endeavors on an island up Nova Scotia) gives a witty must-read for those who think of ever leaving the world at all and settle forever somewhere remote.
Daniel Hays's fine and funny book:
On Whale Island: Notes from a Place I Never Meant to Leave
Closer to home, we had a plan for a short sail trip over a cold and wet long week-end of May. Destination: the Wadden islands (Vlieland) from the Port of IJmuiden (Amsterdam Seaport in Holland). So far so good.We had done some Waddenzee sailing (Wadden Sea) together before and we knew basically what to expect as a two-
In retrospect, small factors have led to the plan's failure (not that it had any serious consequence). The end is not dramatic - but for me, just very illustrative of the sea's complete mastering power.
Factor 1: I had a small split in the Genua not repaired before we left to sea. This detail - as it turned - nailed us down after a two hours rack north west into the north sea. The most shameful I am about the fact I knew this was not OK and needed repair before sailing out (any long time sailing amateur knows a spilt or a small rip in the sail will quickly turn into a major tear). So, deep down I did expect a revenge from below - just didn't know when."The Sea at all risks, come on, a little split in the sail won't hurt that much..." I knew the drill from a few bad seas but nevertheless did nothing in due time. Here she was, in full ornate, the mother of all shipwrecks - overconfidence in its most stupid form.
Compas Deining Ijmuiden mei2010 from Jerome Bertrand on Vimeo.
The recollections and pictures below follow the moments in time when that first grand error of judgment (or rather discipline) was made, and the assumptions that follow could easily have turned the cruise into a not amusing nightmare, was it not for that one mantra (or rule of thumb) in the back of my mind that weighted heavier than sheer stupidity and kept me from the abyss of mental indulgence with a secret irony - "Fear the Sea".
I've learned over the years that it is not so much the amount (of fear) that counts, but the Angst itself, the quality of awe and reverence or submission (another word for Spirituality?) - the kind that can only be experienced in the face of real adversity.
I've learned over the years that it is not so much the amount (of fear) that counts, but the Angst itself, the quality of awe and reverence or submission (another word for Spirituality?) - the kind that can only be experienced in the face of real adversity.
Once at sea, all books, theories and stories just vanish like dreams of a lost youth, anything can happen and will happen to reestablish the balance of nature against the meanders of the mind.
The human mind usually lacks the most simple insight and is not the stronghold you'd hoped for. The best and last resort is then to acknowledge this very fact (again with what is left of your sensibility) and understand ounce and for all who the boss really is.
So, with a little but well established north wind of 4 Beaufort, sailing North was a ridiculous idea in the first place. One of these desktop sailing plans you tend to make during dark winter days when you have no wind in the face and sit dry. Just too good an image to hold the practical truth.
The human mind usually lacks the most simple insight and is not the stronghold you'd hoped for. The best and last resort is then to acknowledge this very fact (again with what is left of your sensibility) and understand ounce and for all who the boss really is.
So, with a little but well established north wind of 4 Beaufort, sailing North was a ridiculous idea in the first place. One of these desktop sailing plans you tend to make during dark winter days when you have no wind in the face and sit dry. Just too good an image to hold the practical truth.
But obviousley, flirting with risk is and was an appealing thing to do for this year's first trip out...
This is the second factor, factor 2 (that fuels up the speed toward failure): wrong route planning. I had followed the weather evolution for a few weeks and was actually planning the anti-clockwise trip (so inland IJsselmeer going North, after the Dam toward Waddenzee, the west round north holland) as a matter of common sense. But no, I had to try something new and more exciting.
At the last moment I decided to take the more risky option...for whatever reason available.
There is indeed so much joy in taking risks. One even tends to relish the part where one comes to work out and resolve all possible details before departure. Minimizing risks, rationalizing in fact anticipating any statistics that could arise at any moment - a mental sport - keeps you away from the right and only decision.
The Sea will prevail whatever you do to guarantee your safety, your well being or mental comfort. Insanity is watching you at each wave waiting for the right moment to strike you hard with no warning.
This is the fun part.
One creates a virtual equilibrium between action and acceptance, thought and patience. Meanwhile, nature just waits for you to add up mistakes.
The idea that one could actually befriend the Sea is an illusion - in fact, dangerous at its core. Your mindset - when inappropriate - will force a decisive, negative outcome from the start. One learns from bad, or much better, worse experiences - but those cannot be avoided mentally. This is where the best marine literature bring some descriptions of personal (real life) catastrophies, loosing of one's mind, wrecking the crew and the boat, and eventually loss of life. A nice recall of this type I read years ago in that beautiful book about Donald Crowhurst's last sailing voyage around the globe (The Sailor's Classics, 1970 by Nicholas Tomalin and Ron Hall) : THE STRANGE LAST VOYAGE OF DONALD CROWHURST
The simple equation "The Sea will prevail" is quite useful to keep in mind from the start. This is a joy for adventurers.
More factors adding at a fast pace now...
Unfortunately my left ribs remain painstaking from a small stupid accident that morning just before leaving (factor 3), and I cannot sleep more than 2 hours straight that night (just before taking the morning tide of 6 o'clock). There you go: another negative point (factor 4) to add to a growing list of aggravating factors that alone seem harmless.
Loss of complete control was just lurking: the list was still short and everything looked all right, but even a moron saw that the pattern set out to grow much earlier and exponentially. It is the sum of all little things at a given moment of inattention that makes the Sea take over - radically with no sorriy. Just wait and see.
Two hours later, sailing north west with a little force 4, my Genua showed some shredding when I just got an automatic glimpse over the horizon. My ribs were still sore and I figured that we still had a 12 to 15 hours sailing effort to do toward first the first port Den Helder, tacking 100 times against the cold wind. This is when the trip ended: I decided to sail back right away (instead of waiting more dead time), heading south to IJmuiden but of course now against 4 knots of tidal current.
Well, the Sea decided, not me. For which I a ever grateful.
We spent the rest of this trip sailing around the Markermeer, north of Amsterdam (no wind at all!). Laid back, with no ambition. We had plenty of time left to reflect on the good things in life, like the complete, sudden loss of control that is quite liberating even to Free minds like ours, and ponder about some other life trivialities that matter more.
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