A few weeks ago I blogged about both Mark Hendy and my own experiences with sailing mentors. I wondered who else had sailing mentors. A couple of wags said that they never had one and felt it explained a lot. There were some very interesting perspectives on the whole mentor thing.
Carol Anne has two mentors:
Online,
I'd have to say my mentor is Tillerman. It was reading the insanity on
his blog that got me to say "yes" one fateful day when I was asked if I
might be interested in learning racing sailing.Offline, in the real world, anybody who has looked at my blog knows
about Zorro. He's selfish, egotistical, and the best racing skipper in
New Mexico or West Texas. I never pass up an opportunity to sail with
him, as I always learn something. Lately, chaos in my and Pat's life,
as well as some crazy things with women in Zorro's life, have meant
that we haven't sailed together in a while. I'm hoping the drought ends
soon.
Michael shed some insight too :
Stan Lander – a retired USCG officer and working
captain/instructor in SF was a huge mentor for me as I became a
professional instructor/captain. As a recreational sailor, I learned
from the best: Joe of Horse's Mouth fame…
O'Docker shared some great experiences
A friend who's been sailing all his life has taught me a lot over the
years. He's a genius at sail trim, reading the wind, working the tricky
currents of the Bay, and coaxing the last tenth of a knot out of a
boat. But his most valuable lesson, for which I'm forever grateful, is
one he never realized he was teaching me.
He started on 505's – boats with a million strings to pull, every one
of which will buy you some speed if you know what you're doing. When he
took friends out on his Catalina, in his head he was still racing that
505. He fidgeted constantly with headsail changes, whisker pole, vang,
cunningham, outhaul, backstay, and anything else he could find to
adjust while we were all supposed to be enjoying a day on the bay. I
soaked it all in, but he was driving his wife nuts. Eventually, she
stopped sailing with him altogether.
When we finally got a boat of our own, I had to learn sailing all over
again – how to see it from my wife's perspective. I had to forget about
pushing the boat to its max.
I learned how to power the boat down so guests were comfortable when
the wind came up. I learned to relax and enjoy the day, even if sail
shape wasn't perfect. I learned I can put my wife on the helm even when
it's screaming if the boat's buttoned down tight enough. She may be
happier back at the slip with a Merlot in her hand, but at least when
we get there, she feels like she's earned it.
For all that my old mentor showed me about trim and boatspeed, the
lesson that he never learned himself was the most valuable one he
taught me.
Chandler Howell had a very different perspective about the mentor/mentee relationship:
You
overlooked another kind of mentor which is much less obvious, and
that's the mentee who consistently ask just the right question to force
me to face and overcome my own deficiencies.I try to operate under the Feynman Rule (basically, "You don't truly
understand something until you can explain it to someone else."), not
just in sailing but in life. I find that the best mentees are those who
ask the questions I am least prepared to answer at that time.Sometimes I can work out the solution and the explanation with a
little thinking, sometimes we just experiment. I've re-learned
opportunities for improved sail trim because I've gotten into a habit
until prompted why I'm doing or not doing something. Other times, I can
refer to a reference book, and some times I just flat admit I don't
know–yet.But invariably, I find that I've become a better and better-informed
sailor simply for having been subjected to a fresh point of view.And I've also found that for many people, realizing that in sailing
there is never omniscience, but rather only varying degrees of
ignorance is quite comforting as they grapple with learning even the
basics of everything that goes into sailing: sail handling,
helmsmanship, crewing, captaining, cruising, racing, owning and just
generally loving to sail.
Who's your mentor?
My racing days are mostly over now, and I find cruising much more rewarding. But my mentors have been and continue to be racing sailor friends. I still learn from them and apply the lessons to getting to the next anchorage quicker or in more comfort.
My first mentor was Doug, an exceptional Laser sailor who dated from the early days of top-level racing in the class. He was a totally instinctive sailor who scoffed at things like compasses and was at his best when he had blown a start or a shift and would simply grind through our club fleet to win the race anyway. I asked him once about steering through chop and waves – how did he do it so smoothly and effortlessly? “I dunno – I just steer around the waves.” It took me years to understand what he meant, but now I just steer around the waves. And like Doug, I try not to think too much about it all.
Today, my mentors include Achilles and Ian, hardcore racing sailors who climb aboard the 27-footer I’ve owned for over a decade and instantly teach me stuff about sail trim and boat handling I’d never thought of. They throw up the cruising spinnaker and experiment with its trim, sheet the genoa hard, play with the main trim – and the old boat comes to life. I’m happy to supply the beer in exchange for the lessons!
At last, the drought is over. After no sailing at all for all of June and the first half of July, Pat and I finally got out sailing with Zorro for four hours this afternoon. Watch Five O’Clock Somewhere ( http://itsfiveoclocksomewhere.blogspot.com ) for details.
My first mentors were some older couples who spent time with me when I was a child, were patient and encouraging, and got me out on the water.
Chuck and Nancy Crane collected sea shells, divided their time between South Padre Island and Isla Holbox on the Yucatan peninsula, and had a small jon boat named “Chatauqua”, which I got to go out on. When in Mexico, they provided some support for, and became part of the community in a small fishing village.
Jack and Kitty Locker had a thirty-five-foot sloop named “Traipsing”, which I got to sail on a few times as a teen.
Thelma and George C. Colley Sr. owned a bay fishing boat service that took people fishing on the Laguna Madre. Some of my summers and weekends were spent working, fishing, and playing on their 40-, 50-, and 65-foot boats.
These couples were among those who “planted the seed” and bonded me to the water.