Manners, safety timeless seamanship tenets

One bright afternoon last July I was cornered on the porch of the Oceanic Hotel by an older gentleman who has been a Star Island guest for decades. This man is notorious among long time hotel staff for his annual list of complaints, generally delivered on the Monday following his Saturday evening arrival. Most of his observations are valid, and I have come to appreciate his suggestions, which are truly aimed at making the island a better place. And he delivers them with grace and respect. Truth be told, he’s usually right on.

As in prior years, he started the conversation by saying that everyone knows that he is an old curmudgeon, and so he had made a little list for me of things that he felt needed attention. As he carefully worked his way down through his current list of gripes (the occasionally indifferent employee, the public use of cell phones, the overly salted soup, the missing towels, the noisy music in the evening and the peeling paint on the west side of the building) he stopped abruptly and asked me how old I was. When I told him I had just turned 60, a smile came over his face. “Well,” he said, “you’re old enough to be a curmudgeon yourself, so I’m sure you’ll understand.” And he continued to calmly work his way down the list with a twinkle in his eye, emboldened now by the sympathetic audience.

That evening, reflecting on the conversation, I reviewed the definition of curmudgeon in various dictionaries. Among the long list of unpleasant attributes associated with the word (descriptions that I surely was not ready to accept for my aging self, and may never be) was one I liked: old school. While I consider myself generally progressive and open-minded, there are a few areas in life where tradition and practicality come together in ways that make real sense to me and are worthy of protection. These are places where the old school ways are unquestionably the best.

At the top of this list are two topics that bring this story fittingly back down to the harbor: manners and seamanship. Both of these, I believe, are timeless. And I will speak out in their favor even at the risk of sliding into premature curmudgeonhood.

Courtesy and safety are inextricably connected on the water. All mariners are expected (even required) by long established tradition to assist others in distress when it is safe to do so. We are all alone out there together you might say, and we need to be able to depend on one another. And here is where my fledgling curmudgeon begins to stretch his surly wings: It seems that an increasing number of people on the water these days lack both the manners and the skills to be our true partners at sea.

Even recreating on the water can be a noble thing, but not without study and practice. Simply signing a loan for a recreational vessel does not a mariner make. You must work at it as much you must work at anything else that is worthwhile in life. Watch the ones out there who know what they are doing and learn from them. Learn also from those who don’t. You can tell right away who they are.

Understand the role that luck plays, but never allow yourself to confuse years of good luck with actual competence. Study, practice, think ahead, always have a Plan B. Be bold when the situation calls for it, but above all be humble and aware of your limits.

There are lots of little things you can do that signify pride and competence, and that will promote safety on the water. Here are some examples (read: pet peeves of a newly appointed curmudgeon): Be aware of the impact of your wake, and take responsibility for it. If you take a mooring that is not yours, do not leave your vessel unattended. Use your radio sparingly and with discretion. Take in your fenders and lines, and stow them away rather than leaving them to dangle aimlessly over the side or get caught in your prop.

Never moor your boat by the stern. Learn how to anchor securely, and avoid anchoring in a mooring field. Know the rules of the road and observe them underway. Be aware of the state of the vessels around you, anticipate their intentions and be ready to assist if needed. Respect the commercial fishermen and their gear. Stay clear of larger vessels that are less maneuverable than you. Keep up-to-date charts on board and refer to them regularly. The list goes on.

To this end I commend to all who so aspire an essential little book by Roger Taylor called “The Elements of Seamanship.” Within these just over one hundred pages is an amazing distillation of the old school of seagoing knowledge and courtesy I’ve been harping about. If you read just one book about seamanship read this one. Here is an excerpt:

“The system has worked for millennia; the able-bodied seaman teaches the apprentice seaman. If you are an apprentice seaman, find an able-bodied seaman to teach you. If you are an able-bodied seaman, find yourself an apprentice seaman to teach. From the first time you step in a boat you are building your seaman’s reputation. It’s a precious thing, hard and long to build, easy and quick to lose.”

To my mind, there are few man-made enterprises that can top the sight of a well-found vessel under way when properly equipped and expertly manned. Be guided in your boat work by such a goal, and you will be rewarded with joy and satisfaction – and occasionally with the quiet approval of those old curmudgeons along the waterfront who know the difference. That’s how you’ll really know you’re getting somewhere.

I think my well-meaning friend from the porch is actually as much a rascal as a curmudgeon: a good-humored keeper of important standards and style for which I am grateful. I hope to follow in his wake.