"No. We won't cast off in this wind." We women all agree. As is so often the case with this wind issue. It's completely out of the question. We had a wonderful trip from Sønderborg to Ærøskøbing in the most beautiful sunshine, the boats sailed upright and have now been lying here for two days. Actually, we should have been back in Sønderborg this afternoon to leave - because work awaits us on Monday, of course. It's always the same when it comes to wind. Blimey, many women are just more anxious, but our men have to respect that. Why, why is there always an argument about it?
Here we go: "Please." My husband is venomous. "That's so soft, getting your jacket wet in a bit of wind like that. It can only make your pump go."
"Excuse me..." comes from the jetty. A friendly older gentleman is standing there and obviously wants to get involved, but we ignore him.
"A bit of wind?" Yes, I say this hysterically and am about to shriek that he probably doesn't have all the plasters in his first aid kit. A bit of wind.
Our boats are lying on their sides so that the coffee cups are rattling through the cockpit, the lines are groaning, the wind is whistling like God, and people on the jetty are securing their caps and holding on to each other. "My goodness, it's light, what do you want?" says Hanno. "Seriously, it's not even a strong wind."
"My goodness, it's only 20 knots." My husband doesn't understand any of this. Just like many men simply don't understand that you just don't want to go out in howling winds and hail. Hanno lectures: "Storms only start at wind force 9, i.e. from 41 knots, that's more than 20 metres per second, for the landlubbers: 75 to 88 kilometres per hour. And when it's colder, the wind pressure increases. You have to reef more in winter than in summer."
My husband senses his chance: "See how much consideration we're already showing? We don't even sail in winter!" He earns murmurs of agreement from the other men, but angry looks and incomprehension from the women. "I'd go out over my dead body," Claudi whispers to me and I nod. "I'm not going out either."
"Ah, you want to stay in the harbour?" asks the nice gentleman on the jetty. We turn our heads. "The ladies of creation don't want to go, the weather's too bad for them," Heiner grumbles. "It's always the women," my husband grumbles. "They're never right. They clamour and refuse at the slightest breeze. It's an imposition."
"I won't cast off in this wind. I like living," he is reprimanded by Birte. "You're out of your minds." I think of something else: "Besides, you're trying to mislead us! You keep getting different information. Sometimes knots, sometimes Beaufort, sometimes this, sometimes that. And do you know why? So that we think everything is OK. Now why don't you say something!", I tell the gentleman, who has been pushed back a little by the wind. He smiles benevolently. "I ..."
Frank interjects: "A little wind like that never hurt anyone." We stare at him angrily. "What's the point of sailing in weather like this?" asks Mel. "It's no fun sailing in strong winds. Apart from that, it's dangerous."
"Do you know what your problem is?" asks Michi. "Your fear is the problem. Otherwise the wind wouldn't bother you either."
"If I ...", begins the man on the jetty, but is interrupted by Heiner: "What rubbish. You just don't get enough involved in sailing."
Do you think it's fun to sail with you when you're shitting your pants with panic?
"I could ..." the man on the footbridge begins politely and is interrupted by Frank: "Now why don't you say something!"
"That's ridiculous," says Mel. "You guys often take it all in your stride. Then to stand there like heroes while we shiver with fear." She seems to have hit a nerve, because all the men present - with the exception of the one from the jetty - start defending themselves at the same time: We women are of course impossible and scared for no reason, people always try to please us, but nothing is enough, and you can understand a man wanting to sail in windy conditions. After all, it is a sailing boat. "Do you think it's fun sailing with you when you're shitting your pants with panic?" Hanno is venomous.
"It's called the will to survive," I explain to him. "You're always scared," he says, and now we actually start arguing. The sound of thunder matches this. The rain claps down on the cake stand as if Charlie Watts from the Rolling Stones is showing off his drumming skills.
"Stop!" shouts the gentleman on the footbridge, raising both hands. "Stop! Please listen to me for a moment." We look at him, but no one says anything. "I've done a lot of research into this topic. You might be interested in my experience." Nodding. Even the men.
"So to cut a long story short: Biologically speaking, women do not have a different perception of wind than men - but when sailing, they often judge the perceived wind differently. Wind perception is a combination of experience and psychology. And this works differently for men and women: as a result, women often categorise the wind as relevant or critical earlier. Men, on the other hand, tend to see wind as 'still easy to sail' for longer. This is not a difference in wind perception, but in risk assessment. But why is that?"
"Why is that?" we repeat.
"It's actually easy to explain: those who frequently steer, trim or manoeuvre experience wind as a controllable variable. But those who have less influence are more likely to experience it as an external threat. And this - now we come to the crux of the matter - traditionally affects women more on many boats. Not because of different abilities, but because of the traditional division of roles. But why am I telling you all this?" He pauses for effect and we say nothing. "It's simple: I overheard their discussion here and it sounded very familiar to me. It was exactly the same with my wife as it is here with the ladies, and I argued in a similar way to the gentlemen. Well ..."
He looks up into the sky. Oh God. Has the woman gone overboard? "And?" we ask curiously.
"Well, she went along with it for a while, but as I got more and more careless ... To cut a long story short, she left me and we're now divorced. I thought it might be helpful if you took that into account in your discussions. What's the point of taking women into consideration?"
"I'm very sorry about your wife," I say, because either he has tears in his eyes or it's the rain. I suspect the former. "But the worst thing is..." He pauses, and we sit and stand there with bated breath. "What humiliates me most is that she's now ... She's now with a motorboat owner. That's how it can go." He looks at the men in turn. "I just want to tell you that."
He turns round and leaves. "Oh my goodness," says Hanno in a panic. "The poor man."
"We're staying here today," our men say at the same time. "There's far too much wind. We said that straight away."
