About 25 years ago, I stepped onto a sailing boat for the first time. I knew sailing from the beer adverts, the beautiful "Alexander von Humboldt I" glided leisurely through the water with its billowing green sails. Sail away. Yes, marvellous.
My first sailing trip ended with the skipper's facial bones broken and what felt like litres of blood all over the boat. Me: helplessly in the middle of it all. I had the presence of mind to steer somehow, by chance in the right direction towards Brunsbüttel. Boats rammed. Fear. Well, I wish I'd asked beforehand: "But you have to explain that to me first." But no, I got on the boat and set off without even the slightest idea of what to expect and, in the worst case, what to expect. Like so many things, I would do it differently today.
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Some time later, attempt 2: with my current husband on a borrowed sea cruiser. Our first outing together on a boat, I was far too enamoured to ask questions and had forgotten the earlier story. To his credit, I have to say that he at least told me that it could rock quite a bit and also get wet, depending on the type of boat. Oh well, it rocks during a carriage ride too, and we're not made of sugar.
Too little information causes discomfort
As soon as we had left the harbour, the "Little Bear" rocked back and forth, then it bobbed forwards, then it was thrown back. Plenty of sea water came over the deck, splashed on me and I felt incredibly sick. While I was hanging over the railing and vomiting, I learnt the term "coughing up cubes" from my husband, which made me vomit even more.
Coming from Schilksee, we finally moored in Ærøskøbing after hours and I lay motionless for minutes on the solid ground beneath me, grateful and crying with happiness. And he: "I told you it could rock."
Today I know what was wrong. We should have sailed a much shorter distance and in better conditions so that I could get used to it first. What would I do differently today? I would ask myself exactly what to expect. How I should dress, whether there was enough drinking water on board (there wasn't). I would insist on wearing a lifejacket because it would take away my fear (by the way, this is still an issue for us, and not only for us). I wouldn't just set off, I would want to know exactly how long it would take to get there. And I would then please get an answer in a friendly tone and not: "If I hear that already, I'm not in the mood any more."
Top priority: friendliness and understanding
Someone is usually the beginner, and that was and is me. He will always be decades ahead of me. Of course, you approach this new thing with a certain amount of scepticism, and for it to be and remain enjoyable for you, you need the help of an experienced partner. The list of what I would ask of this experienced person could be endless, but let's limit ourselves to the essentials and start from the beginning. With the theory.
The top priority - not only in my case, as conversations with other fellow sufferers have shown - would therefore be friendliness and understanding. Because when something is explained to you in an annoyed tone of voice, you often only remember the annoyed tone of voice, and at the same time you are tense, afraid of doing something wrong - and then often do something wrong, which can lead to the skipper saying "Then I'll just do it myself", and that's not helpful either.
Or is it like this: the man is in charge upstairs and gets us through the storm, while the woman is responsible for warmth, food and drink downstairs?
Basically, it can be rather problematic if someone has been sailing for a long time and an inexperienced partner joins them. This is the case with Jan and Mel Kuthning from Kruså in Denmark. "We've been on the water together since 2001, initially on a motorboat," says Mel. "It was completely new territory for me. I didn't even know what a fender was. Jan and his parents had been travelling on the water together since he was a child. And Jan naturally wanted to carry on like that; I was just along for the ride. We then had our son first and actually only used our boat as a caravan. I didn't get a boating licence - what was the point?"
Get a driving licence yourself?
Exactly. What's the point? I still think so today. Because it's actually be Hobby. I also think about doing it from time to time, but then I think: I can do it like this. I should have done it back then, maybe I would have developed better. Of course, I could do a lot less back then than I can now, so my husband did almost everything for me, which was very convenient for me.
I still really enjoy being on the boat, I like the harbour, the neighbours and the boat itself. But I'll be honest: I haven't really learnt anything over the years. I should have just started earlier. My husband is already trying to teach me about it, saying, for example, that I should finally get my boat licence or radio licence. But - hm. It's more convenient the other way round. And he still takes a lot off my hands.
Mel Kuthning has a similar story: "We bought a Miranda Feria 26 and went on our first sailing trips as a family. But - and I would do it differently today - Jan was usually at the tiller, I never managed to take on the responsibility. I also knew little or nothing else."
Old, traditional role models in times of equality
Just like me. It was actually completely irresponsible, because if an emergency had arisen, we wouldn't have known what to do. Unfortunately, that's still the case for me today.
"After all, we had a child and a dog on board," Mel remembers. "I would definitely do things differently today. Unfortunately, I didn't try to get more involved back then because I often developed anxiety on the ship. It was extremely hectic, which I found horrible. Long cruises were an even greater horror for me - and in the meantime I had also infected our dog with my fear. I think Jan should have introduced me better back then, and I think you should be at least halfway on an equal footing as a crew, but we just weren't that. We were living the typical division of roles on board."
This is definitely a situation that many people find themselves in. Perhaps it really is a man-woman issue, that the man does it longer and is better at it. Or it's simply in us: The man is in charge upstairs and gets us through storms and winds, the woman is responsible for warmth, food and drink downstairs. Hunting, cave and fire, so to speak. And this at a time when people talk about equality. But on board, people tend to fall back into old, traditional role models.
What's more - and I'm speaking from personal experience here - it's of course also very convenient if you don't have to do anything at the top, because let's be honest: sailing and everything that goes with it is not uncomplicated.
Hedging and reinsurance
I could never really understand what my husband liked so much about standing on a wobbly boat and putting himself in a potentially dangerous situation with his eyes open, because the water is usually deep. Or putting up the gennaker for two knots more speed, which takes ages. And then taking it down after ten minutes.
It's the same with us: he's been sailing since he was four, I've been sailing since I was thirty-five. A small difference. There are also certain phrases that make me feel petulant before I even start, and then I block them and don't do anything: "Oh my goodness, just take one big step and you'll be on the boat!" Or in the water! Have you ever heard that women are on average 15 centimetres shorter than men?
"Now go forwards quickly and put the lead on. Quick!" But I can't go forwards quickly, there's too much mess on the deck and I stumble. "Why don't you stop messing your jacket, the boat's just lying askew!" Then, after casting off, in the middle of the sea: "I have to go forwards." A nightmare, that sentence! After all, going forwards means going forwards without securing. Why don't I insist that he puts on a lifejacket and puts on a lead when he goes forwards? Yes, all that, I'd do it differently if I could do it again, insist that the damn lifejacket is put on.
What, I always ask myself, is so bad about that? The fact is, you don't have to be an expert to realise that you can't really get a full-grown, normal-weight person who has gone overboard back on board. And I really don't know if I remember what he told me about the man overboard manoeuvre ages ago.
The sentence "Wilfried Erdmann never wore a lifejacket because it would take longer to drown" doesn't help me either. All I know is that we're both doing something fundamentally wrong here. Yes, both of us. We should have done better from the start. He in particular, and I'm not saying that because I want to shift the blame, but because he's the one who likes to sail a lot and has experience, and I'm the one who goes along with it and is in the weaker position.
Coffee sailing for familiarisation
Others are smarter, for example Berit Jäger and Marcel Koch from Celle, who have been sailing together for six years. Although Marcel has more experience - he has been sailing since he was six years old - he is more considerate. "The first few times on the water were really nice," says Berit, "because we only went out in good weather. Marcel was very considerate."
"Yes, we only went out when the conditions were mild and went coffee sailing," says Marcel. "In the first year, we didn't really go anywhere on holiday, we just sailed a bit when the weather was nice. Fortunately, Berit liked it so much that we went on a longer tour the following year."
"When we went wrong, I felt uneasy at first," recalls Berit. "Marcel always dealt with it as much as he could and calmed me down. I then got used to it in small steps. I felt safe with him right from the start."
Is there anything they would do differently today? "Of course," says Berit. "In hindsight, I regret not having learnt everything straight away. I could be much further ahead today, so that we could sail a longer beat overnight. I don't yet have the confidence to do that on my own when Marcel is asleep. But it will happen."
And Marcel? "I should have insisted more that Berit learnt things better back then. On the other hand, it's a good thing in hindsight, because maybe I would have put her off and we wouldn't be so passionate about our boat today."
Standing up for yourself
Having more interest in the profession right from the start, getting involved in new things, being inquisitive, and all this together with a skipper who is always considerate and friendly - a nice idea. But unfortunately it doesn't always work, because: Everyone is different. Nevertheless, I think that the person who enjoys sailing should behave leniently and understandingly towards the newcomer, otherwise it can backfire. I myself have already cut my holiday short once and travelled home by train because I was constantly afraid of the strong wind and high waves.
Incidentally, it's not always just about the situations at sea. I should have insisted on much more from the start: That we should always moor stern-to. That's not "bourgeois", and I don't care whether "people are looking at your drink". Because since I insisted on this very mooring last year, mooring has been child's play.
No more "Four more metres ... three ... two", but stand in front and lay the lines over the poles while the boat slowly heads towards the jetty. No "Jump, jump!" from a height of two metres and no "There's no time to unfold the ladder now".
And what's wrong with mooring alongside if you can moor alongside and I want to moor alongside? Yes, of course someone can always come into the packet, but: it's not that bad.
Questions, questions, questions
I should have insisted that we stay in the harbour in wind and weather. Then we'll just have another harbour day. Yes, of course it's daft when you have to be home at a specific time. But I've already managed to get my way: In bad weather, I stay below deck the whole time, luckily I don't get sick there either.
I should have insisted from the outset that I wasn't just a winter friend to those around me at home. Our boat is in the water from February to November - any questions? Social contacts? 60th, 70th, 90th birthdays? - Without us! Weddings? - Never mind. Funerals? - Is that a burial at sea? Having breakfast, lunch or wine with friends? Haha, funny! So that must be possible. Then my husband will just go on or off the boat on his own.
Seriously, we fellow sailors should simply not keep our mouths shut. We should get involved on board as much as we can, and we should demand the necessary consideration and explanations from those with more experience. On the other hand, we should also show an interest in sailing, ask questions, ask questions again. Then we don't realise the difference between jibing and tacking. Then we just tie the bowline slowly. And the skippers: be patient. And even more patience. Take our fears seriously and praise us when something works. Don't insist on manoeuvres that you have mastered but that scare us. And be happy when we have a good time together.
P.S.: Thanks, by the way, that our boat now has a shower. I should have insisted on that from the start. Oh well: maybe I'll get my radio licence after all. If he asks nicely and kindly ...
