In the "Sailors confess" series, we confess our stupidest sailing mistakes. But we are also looking forward to your confession. Send us your text, if possible with pictures, to mail@yacht.dekeyword "sailor's confession". If desired, publication will be anonymised.
At the Academic Sailing Club in Kiel (now the Sailing Club), beginners are also allowed to use the tiller - in fact, they are supposed to. Motto: If you don't practise, you won't get anywhere. At the time, the Dyas was very popular for short trips on the fjord. The not-so-young keel dinghy could be sailed in a relaxed or sporty manner and - good-natured as she was - forgave minor to medium-sized mistakes. It was simply reassuring to know that the thing could theoretically not capsize. And by that day, all of the students had somehow brought her safely back to the jetty.
With rudimentary sailing skills
Inspired by this certainty, I booked the boat and persuaded my girlfriend - who had equally rudimentary sailing experience - to come along as the foresailor. After all, we regularly travelled on the Baltic Sea with larger yachts (well, as crew members). Besides, we could take turns at any time. So off we went.
The wind was light and merciful. We manoeuvred out of the box, hoisted the mainsail in a reasonably relaxed manner and sailed easily out onto the - thankfully - rather sparsely frequented fjord. Everything was easy, we rocked it. When the wind picked up a little, we bravely took out the harness and took it in turns to push our bums over the edge. We had it down pat and enjoyed the ride to the full.
Create - it will work!
This could have gone on forever, but unfortunately you have to go back at some point because the next person is already on the list or because you simply have to keep studying. So we cruised towards the clubhouse. Mooring, pah, we'd already seen that countless times with the others. But the wind is not a predictable engine and the dinghy is not just any boat - damn it. I let go of the sheet and headed for the jetty. Too lively, so too fast. Crap. It was clear that wasn't going to work. So I turned off and did it all over again.
I took the sheet, but the Dyas reacted like a petulant child and the wind did what it wanted. We were sailing again, but not to the jetty. We drifted off. I headed for a nearby dolphin and thought maybe we could hold on there, sort ourselves out in a relaxed manner and then tow the boat to the jetty if necessary? Unfortunately, of course, the wind continued to pick up right then and we were hurtling towards this ever-growing colossus of wood, which unfortunately offered neither hooks nor lines to hold on to. Perhaps I should have worn my glasses after all. I was sweating profusely and by now I knew that it was going to end embarrassingly...
There is plenty of good advice
My girlfriend couldn't hold on to the thing, how could she? In all the hustle and bustle, we didn't have a long enough line at hand. I cursed rudely and we drifted further into a dead end in front of the rowers' large jetty with a flapping main and hectic manoeuvres. Luckily, they had just brought their expensive training eights to safety. The situation was threatening to descend into disaster and my heart was pounding in my throat.
The whole spectacle took place less than ten metres from the shore. In the meantime, a handful of club members and other curious people had gathered on the quay and were not sparing with good advice such as: "Girls, that's not possible! Just hold on there!" The tourists, on the other hand, who had stopped to watch with interest and in large numbers, were visibly and audibly delighted. At last, active sailing up close, live and in colour. And so entertaining.
The Dyas staggered on the water like a drunk, I couldn't pick up speed again and I couldn't get hold of anything suitable. I must have looked incredibly helpless and stupid.
Get out of here quickly...
Well, eventually it worked and we managed to get the boat in the right direction. We reached the jetty with a mixture of sailing and shimmying. Park up, quickly tie up the lines and off we went! The walk through the grinning crowd back to the boathouse was not pleasant, my face must have been bright red. No silly questions now! After all, I still had to write something in the logbook. Of course, I smoothed out the action a little.
One thing was clear: I never booked a dinghy again, but instead continued to work as a fender mouser and grocery shopper on the "big ones". Perhaps that was for the best...
