Life on board a sailing yacht and in the harbours offers many a bizarre encounter. Author Steffi von Wolff tells us in her commentary"Wolff's territory" regularly talks about her experiences as an on-board woman. Not always meant seriously, often satirically exaggerated, but always with a lot of heart and a wink. This time it's about storytellers.
The sailor's yarn snapper
There's one! That's where I want to go, and luckily the seat next to him is free. Hooray! An odd, full-bearded, one-handed sailor pulling herbs on board, some of them have a shaggy dog or a cat with them, one of them talks to his turtle like his wife. These are the people I mean. Then I stay outside for an extra long time to talk to the shaggy one and a dialogue develops:
Well, on the boat too?"
"Yes."
Jo, it's nice on the boat too."
"Yeah, totally."
I've been sailing for 50/60/80/133 years."
Ah, that's a long time."
I can tell you that, I've experienced things. I used to go to sea, really on a huge ship, I was even bitten by a big white man in Africa once. Want to see the scar?"
I freeze in awe. A scar! From a great white. It's like the scene in Jaws where the three men on the boat proudly show each other the scars inflicted on them by sea monsters, although one of them only has an appendix scar that has healed well.
"Oh yes." Of course I want to see the scar!
Lifts up his Breton fisherman's shirt. "Hiiiiiiiia!" He points to a scar. Well, it's definitely a scar, but I wouldn't swear to it being from a great white shark, but never mind. I want to hear more stories and of course say "Oh, my goodness, how terrible, how awful!", and that prompts, let's call him Ahab, to pull even more out of his hat, which of course I speculate on as it slowly gets dark. Ahab first asks for a cold drink, which I am happy to offer him after he has climbed over from his boat onto ours; I light a paraffin lamp and continue listening.
Ahab talks about fights with octopuses, about seeing the Klabautermann in the flesh, who drank rum with him, nice guy, the Klaubauti, and that he was almost captured by pirates off Tobago in the Caribbean, but only almost, because they were just locals who wanted to sell fruit and vegetables. At least Ahab can laugh throatily at himself, and I'm almost disappointed that he wasn't captured, and I think about how marvellous it would have been if Ahab had been rescued by his daughter Pippi, while Blutsvente and Messerjocke get in their own way. It's quite possible that I'm off my rocker.
I could tell you things",
is Ahab's favourite phrase, and he tells and tells of a Bashini with whom he had fallen madly in love back in Ceylon, but she had already been promised to a Kumara, and she waved a white sheet as Ahab sailed away on the great ship.
Ahab talks about baobab soup, about how a five-metre-long anaconda wanted to eat him, but not with him, Ahab stood up to it, and of course the anaconda made off. While I pour us some wine, I learn that Ahab almost lost a leg due to gangrene (in his feverish delirium, Klaus Störtebeker appeared to him and told him where a treasure was hidden on Heligoland, but Ahab forgot again), has been married seven times - he lost one wife to cannibals - and is not afraid of piranhas. You just have to know how to take the little fellows.
And while the harbour is bathed in a wonderful sunset, the lights go on on the other boats and then, I can hardly believe it, someone starts playing the violin. Yes, violin! So while Ahab tells me about diving with manta rays (of course he almost drowned, but a manta saved him because he instinctively recognised a friend in him) and Vivaldi is played on the violin, I get goose bumps because it's so beautiful. Sitting on the boat, drinking wine by the light of the paraffin lamp and listening to Ahab. It doesn't get any more marvellously kitsch than that, and you can only do that on a boat!
Ahab also feels good and talks about a special poison that he was shot in the arm by locals in Papua New Guinea who felt threatened. He is still in contact with one of them today, who even visited him in Bremen and was almost run over all the time.
I think everyone should have a chat with their boat neighbour, whether it's an Ahab or not. You can always find out interesting things and it's just nice to chat, even if nobody has been bitten or poisoned. Unfortunately, Ahabs are so rare that you don't always find them. And unfortunately not everyone wants to talk to you, which I think is a real shame. But often it's the children who listen to you, and then I like to play Ahab myself.
I once swam into the open mouth of an orca and was spat out again. Since then, I've been able to hold my breath for a long time when diving",
I once said with fervour to two ten-year-olds.
No answer.
I was once attacked by eight moray eels at the same time while snorkelling."
No answer.
A giant crocodile once chased me in Australia, but I was faster."
No answer.
At some point, a woman came out of the companionway and looked at me, then at her children. Then the children fiddled around in their ears and pulled out two silicone plugs each.
"That's what our family always does when we're laid up. There are people like you everywhere."
People like me?"
"The sailor yarn spinners who don't know when enough has been said."
I ..."
"But you know what?"
What?"
"Several years ago, before the children were born, we were in the Bermuda Triangle and got caught in the storm of our lives. Our boat capsized and under the water I saw this glow that ..."
I sat down comfortably.
It does work!
Have a nice weekend!
