File photo: Lloyd
There have been many opportunities to act as a teacher over the years. As a music/theatre major I later took on private students who were studying/playing 'cello and a few voice students. While several were a bit of a struggle - and the struggle was theirs - many were successes and they were kind enough to share their success; a source of great thrill for most teachers making up for the energies expended on the struggles.
Most recently I had the opportunity to be a teacher in an interesting environment. The story below could be called "What I did on my Summer Vacation." But it is more about how everyone gains when skills and knowledge are shared.
The majority of the summer of 2004 was filled with one of two activities.
First, I have to say that I was in the weird position of having to take vacation from my regular work in order to finish contract work on a couple of specific projects. Read that again: I had to take vacation time in order to get my work done. A situation that could have have been depressing if it weren't for my other distraction, sailing.
Saying farewell to sailing early in my marriage was an easy tradeoff considering the number of things my sweetheart has put up with over the past three decades. But the urge to harness the wind and slide across the water returned in earnest a few years ago.
It all came down to the fact that my wife was not a water person, and instead of it being a source of sporting stimulation, water activities were a source of terror. Of course, if I'd known that, I'd likely have made her first sailing experience all those years back, a little less exciting.
A series of guilt-laden ploys over a period of time a few years back finally yielded the "thumbs up" on acquiring a sailing vessel, and returning to the life on water that I had left when Gerald Ford was president.
Not wanting to push the issue, I pursued a clunky looking boat that looked safe with an appearance that likely put its designer to sleep. Shortly after starting the hunt, I came home from a Chicago area marina with a 22 foot South Coast cruiser that had been pulled out of its slip in Lake Michigan. It fit the formula perfectly, a clunky looking sloop on which everything was present and intact, with a hull color that screamed 1971 as if the Brady Bunch itself was expected to swim across her bow. With the vessel a study in irony, it seemed only appropriate to Christen her "Pinafore" after the Gilbert and Sullivan comic operetta featuring a ship of the same name with a crew whose exploits should never be taken seriously.
In an effort to be concise I take license to time-travel to early spring 2004 when the stars aligned and a good friend made some contacts so Pinafore could be parked in Rock Lake near Lake Mills, affording me the opportunity to hit the water and hoist the sails within ten minutes after leaving my home.
But another opportunity presented itself with the boat's close proximity. My wife, one of my children (at first) and two of my friends showed a special interest in learning to sail, giving me the delightful challenge and opportunity of teaching them how to safely sail, show them some of the nuances and introduce those four to the enticements of sail. A built-in plus included the odds that shortly I'd have a crew member at any given time to help out when winds became brisk and efforts to 'single hand' Pinafore required that I be in more than one place on the boat simultaneously.
Just like students learning a new musical instrument, talents developed at varying speeds.
But one of the crew trainees displayed a particular enthusiasm, and became a part of the Pinafore crew almost by accident. On our way back from a shoot, a person whom I often hire to assist with freelance commercial photo work was with me at the end of the day when I mentioned that the boat was tied off not far from the route home. She insisted that she wanted to see the old cruiser. It never takes much arm twisting to get me to talk sailing.
I kept playing down the dated watercraft, but even after seeing the 'retro' cruiser she continued to ask substantial questions about the old boat and things nautical in general. Enthusiasm at this level is hard to surpress, so I offered to take the boat out and motor about for a short excursion.
Well we didn't even hoist the sails that trip and the good questions kept coming, so much so that I finally said, "Here, you take the helm," explaining that as the term for position of the person who steers the vessel - also giving her something to do before I ran out of answers. I mentioned that I would be training members as crew and that she (for the purposes of this blog she'll be known as CR as she often is in real life) was invited to join the group. I noted that the group was going to meet a in a few days and that she should plan on coming out, but I also mentioned that it wasn't just a matter of going out, setting sails and catching 'rays.' It was a matter of learning many safety aspects to protect the boat and other crew, it was a matter of learning terminology, rules, regulations, history, theory. It was also a matter of learning about the weather, learning the characteristics of this specific water craft. And finally a matter of having all the mechanical factors of harnessing the wind and getting the craft where you wanted to go become a natural series of readings and reactions.
While we planned to meet as a group a few days later, CR called the next day and said she had a conflict. Thinking that her apparent enthusiasm had waned, I said that she was certainly not obligated in any way. But she stopped me short and asked if the boat would be going out anytime before the group was to meet. Well, of course it was - that afterall is why I had the boat in water so close to home.
So we met the next day after I made the return trip from Chicago, having met with a client in the morning. Like air filling sails, sailing itself always gives me a second wind of energy. We spent some time at the pier where I explained the difference between standing rigging and running rigging. We talked over which lines did what, what needed to be accomplished while getting under way and generally what made a sailing craft...go.
As a little quiz, I asked if she could remember some of the specific parts of the boat. She did, and continued on impressively and correctly with more terms after I finished the little quiz. CR was like a horse at the starting gate, and I recognized that it was time as a teacher to get out of this student's way.
We motored out beyond keel depth, and as I was getting ready to hobble up on deck to hoist the sails she passed me up and asked if she could yank the halyards to raise the two expanses of Dacron (the canvas of today). I sat back down at the tiller and said, "hoist away." A brisk day gusting to 15 knots I stayed at the helm, but pointed out all of the factors to consider at every point of sail, giving assurance that cruisers this size with 700 to 1000 pounds of steel or lead in its keel are extremely difficult to capsize, even though the wind made the Pinafore heel over to near 20 degrees during the course of the session. While 20 degrees isn't much off of perpendicular, with racing yachts spending a brisk day at 30+/- degrees to the point where skipper and crew are basically leaning on the deck while standing on its edge, even 20 degrees can seem like more when a green sailor is along and the skipper seems to be daring Mother Nature to incline your craft much more.
After about two hours, I turned the boat in toward our pier to the dismay of the new student. Again CR volunteered to douse the sails. After explaining the procedure she litely jumped to the top of the cabin trunk as if she had a set of natural sea legs, where my hiking on deck in brisk weather has been characterized as more of a "lumbering" action. I turned Pinafore upwind and both the jib and mainsail began to luff. As the boat bit into the oncoming chops, CR cut loose the jib halyard and stood solidly on the foredeck as she gathered up the foresail. Returning to the mast she set the main halyard loose, I let go of the tiller and began to to flake and lash the mainsail. CR started lashing it from the other end. "Are you sure you haven't been sailing before?" I asked. She assured me that her life until then was one of a full blown land lubber.
The summer continued with planned trips including the group and various sub-sets, but regularly CR would have arranged her own schedule to get some extra time under sail. She remained enthusiastic, but it seemed that with everything she absorbed in the learning process, she also gained a greater respect for the sport. After several trips out as a crew member it became obvious that it was time for her to act as skipper and take the helm, and let me be the crew, telling me what adjustments out of her reach need to be made.
Suggesting it was a good time for her to take the tiller and take the boat through its paces with me as the crew, CR hesitated. She paused, and said she really should just continue as a crew member. With that, under full sail, I stood up and headed to the cabin, hinting that someone should take the tiller (at that time CR didn't know that sails sheeted tightly will generally pull the vessel around into the weather, bring the boat to a stop and drop the air out of the sail to the point where they'll simply flap around). She veritably dove for the tiller and brought Pinafore back on course, frantically asking what I was thinking. To which I answered "I think it is time you took the helm."
Again it is an exciting moment when a teacher gets the opportunity to get out of a student's way, and it was clear that this student was ready to move on faster than the rest of the crew trainees.
CR stiffly took the boat through several maneuvers and points of sail, before I suggested we head in.
After that CR would take the helm regularly under varying sorts of weather, learning to adjust to get the optimum set on the sails. At first it was a matter of adjusting after conditions changed blatantly, but the adjustment to any settings were always correct. Many sailors never get beyond this point.
Just as every student who is learning a new language works at it until "things just click," sailing fell into place for CR.
The difference between inland sailing and off shore ocean sailing is the quality and consistency of the wind. Most often in blue water sailing, the wind stays the same, is rarely gusty and usually changes at a pace that allows sailors to adjust as the changes are happening. I like to call off-shore mariners set-and-forget sailors. Inland wind is subject to more change due to winds coming off of land formations, a range of varying other factors and generally one accepts that there will be gusts, even at points 30 miles off-shore on Lake Michigan.
One day we were out after CR had become quite used to the routine and was familiar with almost all activities on the boat. So much so that I began to wonder if learning had hit a plateau, or if I had any more to offer this student.
The weather that day called for 7 to 10 knot winds, but predicted mid afternoon an increase of winds that would be 10 to 15 knots. On a comfortable set of tacks against a southwest wind we were heading across the narrowest point of the lake, an area notorious for providing conditions almost opposite the day's prevailing winds. I went into the cabin to grab binoculars, then stood up in the companion way, which allowed me to lean on the cabin roof and keep my head under the boom.
Going from a port tack to a starboard tack, I aimlessly looked through the glass. More than a mile away, on a cloudless day I could see that the water was turning dark, and the ink-like hue was advancing to our location rapidly. Immediately I knew that the dark shade was riffling on the current waves, taking away their glimmer and that the predicted wind change was coming across with a substantial introductory gust. I looked back at CR who was studying the set in the sails, and then bit my lip in an effort to not be too directive and continue to let the learning experiences happen. I did, however, work at being nonchalant and started ever so slightly to lean windward.
I took one more glance over my right shoulder, then let it go, looking toward the bow. About ten seconds later the wind picked up whistling through the shrouds. I prepared to jump through the hatch and cut loose a jib sheet, but knew that the old cruiser could heel beyond 90 degrees before thinking about capsizing, so I decided the best thing a teacher could do was nothing but wait.
Bracing myself as the wind hit, I felt Pinafore nudge slightly, but then settle into an increased speed. I relaxed as the boat locked into a comfortable beat, and we sailed on to the south end of the lake.
After we came about I stepped back out into the cockpit and sat on the weather side. After sitting and simply enjoying the sail for another ten minutes, I looked back at CR and said "Uh, did you notice the wind pick up before you came about?" She replied with a glib "Uh-huh."
I mentioned that we didn't really heel over too much. She replied, "Well I just flattened the main, and headed up wind a bit, then reclaimed the course as I let out the main sheet."
" And you did it well," I replied.
It occurred to me then that, like one who is learning a new language, things had 'clicked' for this student. I also realized that the role of a teacher is always changing. Sometimes it is a matter of literally spelling out every action, and sometimes it is just a matter of turning on a light so a student can see the path. The most difficult thing is recognizing which degree of need, so that a student is neither overwhelmed nor held back when ready to move on. But when a student finds success and feels accomplishiment, as a teacher I feel the thrill of a skydiver.
The training provided to new crew has been like a rank system that yacht trainers use on their way to a level of maritime certification. The next step for CR was to 'single hand' or solo sail, and she absolutely had the skills. However, like the first time she took the helm, I had to practically trick her into the solo sail. Every time I mentioned that it would be a good day for a solo run, she decided that her schedule was full, though I could hear that she wanted to be on the water under sail.
One day, I suggested we go out, and with the wind level up we'd likely have to 'reef' in the main (bring in some sail to have a smaller surface area), and I would need a decent crew to go out. After heading out I came around and brought the Pinafore in to a public pier. We were on approach before she asked why. Grabbing a cleat on the pier and stepping off the gun'l I threw a camera around my neck and turned back to tell her why... "...so you can solo."
She grabbed the pier and protested. "Lloyd, I'm not ready for this!"
I gently said that I thought she was.
"No, I'm really not. Now come on back. I'm not ready to solo."
Her hand slipped from the pier for a moment, and I took advantage of it by shoving Pinafore off. "Prove to me that you're not ready!," I said adding that it was near sunset and the weather was changing.
Shortly, the old cruiser was more than its own length beyond the pier. CR gave me a resigned look and asked what the assigned route was. I told her to head out on a certain heading south, bring it to the east on a broad reach go to within a safe distance of the east shoreline and come about to tack out the same distance to the south, then cut back west -southwest beating close to the wind then head west across the point of the pier, continue on then jybe north back to a point even with the pier and bring it on in.
I saw waypoints click in her head as if I were a choreographer dishing out steps to a dancer. She yanked the starter on the long shaft outboard, snapped it into reverse, pulled the stern around, changed gears again and headed out. It was the first time I had been this directive with this student.
The list of tasks to remember can be exceptional: After motoring out, killing the motor, lifting the motor, CR winches down the keel (a 700 lb five foot fin of steel on 2 tons of boat) , she hoists the sails, goes through the route making all the correct adjustments, then douses the sails, lashes the main, winches up the keel and motors back. She also made a correct decision in leaving the main reefed (note the main is almost the same size as the working jib), then she qeued up in a holding pattern with a boat that unexpectedly arrived to be hauled out. Then she brought Pinafore back to the pier.
She was elated and I was proud as punch. She also admitted that she was stalling about doing the solo over a period of weeks.
We were losing daylight, so shutter speeds on my camera were slow making it hard to hold steady, but if you click on the picture below, you will see CR on her solo sail. Clicking on the picture, you will be taken to another page. Click that new picture and you will see a 20 second compressed slide show of the 25 minute solo sail. Realize that it symbolizes a student success, a demonstration of determination to take on something completely new and the culmination of an effort to acquire new skills, pounding the individual skills into a complete talent.
Solo sail for a former land lubber - click here then click on pic
at that site.
While acting as the teacher in this situation, as usual I'm sure I am the one who learned and gained the most.
Best to all,
Lloyd
No comments:
Post a Comment