By Bill Dill
For Points East
Like Hans and Kate in your last issue, some partnerships seem to start around the prospect of sailing. For others, like us, the relationship started around other things — work, children, friends, various recreations. It was a gamble how things would evolve after we bought a 14-foot sloop. We had canoed easily as a team, but after one try Jean refused ever to join me again on a tandem bicycle. Some wives or husbands refuse to come along. Some come along for the ride, but essentially as passengers. Jean came along for the ride as long as she had a shot at being co-captain.

After nearly 20 years with three cruising boats, that's the way things have worked out — separate though coordinated roles, but shared control; mutual respect for what each brings to the effort; an ability to air differences about what our "captaincy" should do; and the sense to move as one when it is time to act.

My job is to work out and check courses with charts and instruments and feed what's needed through GPS and directions to Jean at the wheel. She is a superb tactical navigator in avoiding pots and executing approaches to marks and moorings. She senses from the wheel how well I am doing with sail trim and helps me decide if my work with lines and winches is having good effect. We have learned the value of four eyes instead of two on watch in fog or busy seaways. While not underway, Jean takes charge in the galley and cabin while I stow things on deck and deal with engine, electrical and plumbing challenges.

What makes it work?

Trust, even when you know you are over your head in a situation that is new to one or both of you. If he or she doesn't know, you show confidence in his or her ability to figure something out. In a crisis, save second-guessing until things have settled down and you've got your second wind.

Stay focused as problem solvers. Let voices rise, but not the gorge. The purpose of argument is to find answers in timely fashion that both can help implement.

Failure needs a two-parent family. Don't say "we" just about your successes. Credit "we" for dumb things that happen too. Support the one who has screwed up. We know that each of us owns full credit for one of our two more spectacular groundings, but we describe both of them to outsiders as "team efforts."

Organize life on a cruise so that you take time to do things that refresh, together or separately, after a tiring or hairy time on the water. For us it is simple — reading or perhaps conversation or bridge with another couple while at anchor or a walk ashore, whether to explore the galleries in Rockland or the trails on Frenchboro Long Island.

As you try different things, keep talking about what you really like for future cruising. We've tried Long Island Sound and the waters off Rhode Island. We prefer Maine. We've tried flotillas and club cruises. We prefer sailing alone or with one or two other boats. We know many happy liveaboards among other Island Packet owners, but that's not us. We've done 24- and 30-hour runs, but we enjoy routings that let us set a hook or pick up a mooring each night. We think of places we'd like to go, but often divert to suit the vagaries of the wind (Last year, in the dog days of August, we enjoyed a four-day "cruise" that never got out of sight of the Wyman power plant stack in Yarmouth.). We'll wish Godspeed to a boat heading to a steel band concert in Buck's Harbor; but if the sky is clear, Crotch Island or Criehaven appeal as places to watch other kinds of stars.

Laugh. There are worse things in life than snagging pots three weekends in a row in Muscle Ridge Channel; than paying big bills at three yards over a period of months before a fluke fuel leak was found; than finding half the pump-out stations advertised along the Northeast coast don't exist or don't work; than fixing water pumps offshore; or than racing impromptu against a shorter boat and losing. There are more embarrassing experiences, as even Dodge Morgan admits, than the Potts Harbor polka — raising the sails in a brisk wind and doing tight tacks in circles until friends hail us to say that we are still tied to our mooring.

Keep looking ahead together. This summer has been our 50th anniversary, past time I ever expected to have a cruising boat. But we're still junior to a number of couples who cruise more ambitiously than we do and to more than one who have just traded old boats in for newer ones. Sailing (and my co-captain's classy lean cuisine) has helped keep us young. We've got a new anchor, some fresh charts, and perhaps finally, a folding cockpit table for happy hours. Looks like another year is in store.

By Norman Martin

For Points East

Perfect cruising companion? I can answer that since I teach cruising to about 30 strangers each year. I do this as part of my work for Boston Sailing Center.

The best folks I've cruised with have great stories to tell and anecdotes to amuse us. Usually, folks who are conversational and entertaining are enjoying the trip — a key feature. Part of the joy of cruising is doing things aboard the vessel, such as cooking, cleaning, navigating, etc. Great cruising companions participate in the adventure É all aspects of it.

On one recent trip, the holding tank "malfunctioned." We put into a harbor for pumpout and repairs. Everyone participated in the activity. One fellow hiked into town for bleach and a 12-pack. Another fellow got right into the hard part with me. We didn't get too dirty because we worked as a team. A couple stood by in the clean area passing equipment, leading hoses, running pumps and such. The job was completed in 30 minutes — no mess!

At the end of the cruise someone on the dock asked how the trip went. You know the question — We all ask it and answer it a dozen times a year. The holding tank story was told and retold many times. It was not related as in "what a disaster!" but as "What an adventure!"

Those were great cruising companions. They participated and had fun.