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.
"I think the boat is going to tip over!"
My best friend was on board for a visit in the summer.
"Oh, that's the ship," said Bobo as he stood in front of our boat. "I imagined it would be much bigger."
Well, it's not Abramovich's yacht, but it's not a nutshell either.
I helped Bobo on board.
"Please don't bring a wheeled bag," I had said beforehand. Of course Bobo had brought a wheeled bag.
Our boat neighbours to port and starboard greeted him in a friendly manner, but I know they were thinking their part, because Bobo looked like an advertising figure for sailing at the North Pole. He was wearing a black dry suit, a cap and gloves, plus clunky wellies. I furtively searched for a handgun with which he could neutralise a polar bear.
On this August day, the temperature in Sønderborg was 28 degrees.
"I've kitted myself out well in case it gets cold," he said. "In these times of climate change, you have to expect anything, and you know what a cold cat I am."
That was true. But snow or other cold spells were not to be expected this weekend.
My husband didn't say anything. He mixed gin and tonics.
"I've also brought thinner gloves," said Bobo proudly. "Made from kangaroo leather. They're real hand flatterers."
"How nice. Shall I show you the boat?"
"Sure." Sweat poured down Bobo's face.
But he remained steadfast.
"Where's my room?" he asked downstairs.
"You sleep here." I showed him the room.
"Hm. All right." He put his bag down and we went back upstairs. My husband came back with gin and tonics.
"Oops," Bobo said as children with a dinghy and outboard motor sailed past. "Oops, that's really wobbly."
"We are also on the water."
"Yes, but still. What do you need the bar for?"
"That's the mast," said my husband. "That's where the sail is hoisted."
"Sure, it's a sailing boat too. But that one over there doesn't have a pole."
"It's a motorboat too," said my husband and drank his gin and tonic quickly.
"Oh, and you even have holders for flower vases."
?
"Oh, no, those are winches. Cranks go in there."
"Yes, I saw it in a YouTube video. Someone was cranking with sooooooo upper arms, but he was cranking really fast and looked kind of crazy. And everyone around him was screaming."
"That was probably a regatta boat," said my husband. "The one cranking is the grinder."
"Grindr?" asked Bobo. "That's an erotic platform on the internet."
"No, that's a crank." My husband had had enough after half an hour. Sometimes I understand that he prefers to travel alone.
"Oops," Bobo said, for whatever reason. Then he rummaged around in a waterproof rucksack and pulled out a straw sun hat, which he put on.
"I don't fancy skin cancer," he said. "You can't be too careful."
"Why don't you go below deck, there's no sun there," my husband said, as the neighbours giggled quietly to themselves.
I warmed up some goulash soup.
"She's hot, but that's how I like her," said Bobo as he melted away. "I think I'll go and change after all. I'm going to my room."
A short time and three "oops" later he came back and my husband gaped at him in horror. He was wearing a polo shirt with the words "Bobo is sailing around the coast from the Danish South Seas and back and he is happy and cries HOORAY and he loves Steffi and the skipper YEAH!"
"I had them specially made for me. I also had caps made for us. Have a look." He placed the caps in front of us: "BObo on the BOat" it said. My poisonous husband got a cap that said "Bobo's good-humoured skipper" and I got one that said "Bycatch".
"I thought it was fitting," said Bobo. "Bycatch is something different."
"I see," I said.
"I was looking for expressions that have something to do with the sea," Bobo explained. "Especially for you."
"Thank you." Sure, bycatch is the first thing that comes to mind.
"Why don't you put your cap on," Bobo asked my husband and, gritting his teeth and looking grim, he did as Bobo said. Stefan and Claudia next door gritted their teeth.
My husband got up. "I'll clean under the floorboards," he said, disappeared below deck and didn't come back.
The next day we set off after breakfast.
"Oh dear, what a wobble," said Bobo. "But that's how it is at sea. Always something going on. Always action. And you always have to reckon with danger."
We were still in the harbour.
Outside, we were able to set sail "on the pole".
"Oops, help!" shouted Bobo. "I think the boat's going to tip over."
"It can't tip over."
"Why not?"
"Because there's a keel at the bottom. It holds the boat."
"Oops, but that's really wobbly."
When the ship was at its crookedest, Bobo said: "I've got to go."
"Wait, I'll straighten it a bit," said my husband.
"No," said Bobo. "Please go back. I can't go to the loo before you."
"You don't have to. The loo is downstairs."
"No," said Bobo again. "If anyone is near me when I go to the loo, I get a bowel obstruction and my bladder goes crazy."
"I'm not going back to the harbour now so you can go to the loo," said my husband.
"But I have to," Bobo moaned in his unspeakable polo.
My husband angrily took the sails down again and we headed back. After saying "Oops" forty times, Bobo managed to get off the boat and go to the harbour toilet.
"You're not doing that to me again," said my husband.
"I can't stand that again."
"It's all right. It's not that bad now."
"Not bad? He's killing you!"
Then Bobo came back. "We can go again. Everything's fine."
A quarter of an hour later we set sail, and of course the ship was leaning again.
"I feel sick," said Bobo. "I think I'm going to throw up."
"Then just throw up," said my husband.
"Oops, no, I can't go in front of you ... no, we have to go back to the harbour."
My husband stared at Bobo, then at me. Then he took the sails down again.
We drove back to the harbour and, miraculously, Bobo didn't throw up again.
And so it happened that we didn't go out any more because "Oops, I think it's better if we stay here, it's not so crooked", and lay in the box in the best sailing weather, while everyone around us waved away to experience a perfect sailing day.
"Well, I can understand you," said Bobo. "Sailing is really great. And you learn so much too. I like that. I feel like I really belong now. Wonderful. Of course, I still have a lot to learn, what do you think about me coming along for a fortnight?"
We just didn't answer, which Bobo didn't care about because, oops, a seagull was pooping on his head. It's quite possible she meant well with us hooray yeah!
Have a nice weekend!
