Bonjour

“Making an attempt to learn the language of my host country is as important as finding out what kind of provisioning is available or whether or not they have fuel and internet,” says Marcie of Nine of Cups. “How better to learn about a culture than to talk with its natives? I work hard to learn at least the basics.”

There are hundreds of languages throughout the world, and in some regions there can be dozens in the same island group. Fortunately for cruisers, most of these areas also have adopted one of the three major international languages: English, French or Spanish. Most of us had classes in school in one or the other. Had we known back then we were going to grow up to be international travelers, we’d probably have applied ourselves more diligently. But, it is amazing what sticks! Even the most indifferent students are surprised by what they can resurrect given a little real-life stimulation. “Dos cervezas frías, por favor,” for example!

“When I was taking Spanish classes in 7^th and 8^th grade,” says Mary of Camryka, “who would have guessed I’d be chatting one day with a fellow on a bus in Guatemala or bargaining for a better price on shrimp in Venezuela?”

Today’s cruisers are very lucky. In additional to all the primers, language programs and Lonely Planet phrase books, we have Kathy Parsons’ Spanish for Cruisers and French for Cruisers (www.forcruisers.com). Most all the Admirals cited them as indispensable, and I would agree. I don’t say this because Kathy is a friend and collaborating Admiral. It’s more that Kathy became a friend and collaborating Admiral BECAUSE of my admiration for her work. What makes her books so special is that she gives us strategies for jumping right in, for making the most of what little we may have, and then she provides the vocabulary that applies to our very particular lifestyle, words that are rarely in regular dictionaries and certainly not in tourist phrase books.  “I was astounded when a cruiser told me she didn’t need Spanish for Cruisers because she’d just bought Rosetta Stone (a language teaching program),” says Ellen of Cayenne. “I can only hope she doesn’t need an emergency stuffing box, propeller shaft, mainsail, or body part repair in Colombia!”

“To get started on cruiser Spanish or French,” advises Kathy, “concentrate first on these key areas:

1. Pronunciation, so people can understand you, but also so you can cheat by pronouncing English words with a Spanish or French accent (You’ll be amazed how often that works!)
2. Basic greetings and courtesy phrases, so that you don’t come off rude or abrupt; and
3. Key words or sentences for the need at hand jotted on an index card as prompts.

“Then, create a little spiel about yourself that you can memorize and use as an ice-breaker: ‘Hi, my name is Kathy. This is my partner Bill. We sailed here from the US on our boat,” etc.”

Next get off the boat and start talking with people, including children, who several Admirals mention make particularly good teachers! Ask directions, point to things and ask their names, use pantomime, show your notes, draw.

“If you don’t know the name of something,’ says Mary, “play a version of 20 questions with the words you do know: ‘It comes in a can; you put it on wood to kill insects; it smells bad.’ Locals make Herculean attempts to figure out what we’re trying to say regardless of our ridiculous verb tenses, masculine-feminine confusion, or adjective-noun mix-ups.<”

Both “For Cruisers” books include diagrams and pictures; lay out the book and point to what you need. This is particularly useful when your partner has sent you ashore to buy some obscure part for the engine or rigging, especially if you are not too sure what it’s called in English! But the books go way beyond the engine room. You’ll find sections on grocery products, banking, medical, internet etc. Just wait ‘til you try to decipher cuts of meat without it!

“Whatever the subject, don’t take yourself too seriously,” stresses Kathy. “Get out there and make mistakes. Your mission is to amuse the locals with your attempts to speak their language. When you make people laugh, you remember, you seldom create the same mistake twice, and you wouldn’t believe how much it pleases the locals when you demonstrate an interest in their language and culture, no matter how UGGGGLY your efforts! It gives them a nice way to help you. And, while they teach you how to pronounce things correctly, teach them the English word back.”

The natures of different culture groups will make this process easier or harder. Spanish speakers for the most part are incredibly gracious and welcoming and will readily work with you even if you speak no Spanish. Because of this easy manner, many cruisers settle in long-term, but also because of it, they can get lazy about language. What kind of message do we give if we spend years in their country without ever progressing past those dos cervezas?

French speakers are perceived as more aloof and critical, but this impression stems from a cultural emphasis put on language, which means they are correspondingly anxious about their own efforts at speaking English. Once you make a valiant effort to speak some French to shop keepers or French cruisers, doors that seem firmly closed will eventually open.

Another way that many cruisers choose to help improve their language skills is to take a language course. Sometimes these are found as close as the marina dock, like the Spanish lessons I took in Mazatlan or Marcie took in Cartagena. Alternatively they can be combined with exciting inland trips, like popular immersion courses in Antigua, Guatemala or San Miguel de Allende, Mexico. For French lessons, the Alliance Française maintains chapters dedicated to promoting the French language and francophone culture all over the world. Once started, you’ll find myriad ways to expand your skills: listening to popular songs, scanning newspapers, and reading subtitles on American movies. My habit has been to read, pronounce and comprehend every street sign I pass!

It seems as though between most of the cruising couples we know, one partner is better at language than the other. They were lucky enough to grow up with a second language, had more language education in school, or, like music, have been gifted with an ear for it. But also like music, plenty of people with no special gift succeed through determined effort. “The hard part if you are moving quickly,” says Sheri of Procyon, “is that as soon as you start to learn Spanish or French you leave the area where that language is being spoken and go on to something else!!!”

Making an effort to learn some local language will only enhance your experience, but, as Yvonne of Australia 31 concludes, “no one should not travel because they are intimidated by lack of language skills.” For most North Americans our native tongue is English, and, as Judy of Ursa Minor reminds, “we’re lucky because, thanks to global economics and tourism, there is almost always someone around who understands at least a little, even in the most far flung and remote locations.”

Contributing Admirals:  Kathy Parsons, Hale Kai;  Marcie Lynn, Nine of Cups; Yvonne Katchor, Australia 31; Judy Knape, Ursa Minor;  Debbie Leisure, Illusions;  Sheri Schneider, Procyon; Lisa Schofield, Lady Galadriel; Mary Heckrotte, Camryka; Julie Danielson, Tapestry; Vicki Juvrud; Cindy Blondin, Tashmoo;  Maribel Penichet, Paper Moon; Susan Richter, Wooden Shoe;  Ellen Sanpere, Cayenne III; Suzanne Longacre, Zeelander.

This article was published in the July 2009 issue of Latitudes and Attitudes.

Related articles (on this website)

• Kathy Parsons’ mission: learn the language (and teach it to cruisers) (Women and Cruising blog)

Many single female sailors I’ve met were once part of a cruising couple where the partner is no longer in the picture.  Debbie of Illusions, for example, did not become a single-hander by choice.

Her husband died unexpectedly leaving her with a difficult decision: either learn how to continue on her own or give up the boat and move back to Missouri.

When Joy faced divorce from her husband thirty years ago, she wanted their cruising boat. “In my mind there had always been ‘two captains,’ although I doubt he shared this concept.  Not many did back then. But, I had the buy-out money and the perseverance, so eventually, painfully, I did end up owning Banshee on my own.”

Marjetka signed on for a three-year circumnavigation adventure with the male owner of 26’ Little Mermaid, but after 30 days sailing around Europe he wanted to cancel the deal.  Marjetka was so angry, she impulsively bought him out and, despite having little sailing experience, continued across the Atlantic on her own.

And when her former husband lost interest in sailing and their cruising boat sat unused on the dock, Sherry got involved in local racing, eventually buying her own race boat Fast Lane and putting together an all-woman crew. “It took several years and a few hundred races, learning all the tactics and rules the hard way (by making mistakes), but I eventually ended up with the fastest boat and the best women’s crew in all of our women’s racing circuit.”

None of these women set out to be pioneers.  They didn’t sail on their own to make a statement.  They just wanted to keep sailing when, one way or another, their men failed them.

Other women start from scratch. Kiwi sailor Jackie of Soulmate got the bug as a youngster when she co-opted her father’s sailing dinghy.  “I used to take off sailing all over the place on my own, which caused my parents no end of worry.” Focused on having her own cruising boat someday, Jackie put her head down and built up and sold two businesses to raise the capital needed for the boat that now carries her around the South Pacific.

More typically, women evolve into owner-operators when various trial experiences don’t prove satisfying enough. “When I turned 50,” says Rachel of the CT 47 Ventana, “I decided to take a year or two off and cruise on other people’s boats, combining the two things I enjoy most, traveling and sailing. I answered ads for crew and ended up sailing for two years on four boats. The first three were all skippered by men, and in each case I experienced problems of being continually propositioned. I finally found a boat with a couple aboard who simply wanted help sailing their boat from Thailand to South Africa. A very pleasant year, but their style of cruising was not really mine. I came to feel that I would have to be extremely lucky to ever find a boat cruising the way I wanted to cruise with a man whose propositions I would welcome.”  Instead of giving up, Rachel took the big step of buying her own boat.

On the other hand, it was purely a taste for adventure in general that motivated successful professionals Linda and Dee to buy the Liberty 49 Serafin.  They divided up the duties they’d have to learn and subsequently cruised together for several years.  When an onboard fire stopped their cruise short, they shipped the boat to Ft. Lauderdale for a refit.   The refit sapped Dee’s commitment, but Linda, not ready to quit, has since sailed the boat back through the Canal and across the Pacific, using fellow cruisers met in Mexico for crew.

Single-handing is a lot of work. It means 24-hour watches under way and doing both the “blue” AND “pink” jobs every boat demands.  Most of the single-woman sailors I’ve met do sometimes use crew, particularly for passages.  Leery about using unknown pick-up crew, most women turn to friends, friends of friends, or boyfriends.  But sometimes that complicates life more than it simplifies it.  Men tend to develop what Joy calls the “rooster complex … they just can’t resist taking over,” while, as Linda has recently experienced, others can’t handle taking direction from a female which turns help into handicap. It can also be emotionally disruptive, as when Marjetka’s friend flies in from Norway.  “First I look forward to seeing him, then I fret about him being in the way of the way I do things. When he is here, he helps me get so much done on the boat, but then he is gone again, and I am lonely where I wasn’t before.”

Marjetka and Debbie, both sailing small boats, point out that single-handing as a woman can be very isolating, as they are often odd person out in the anchorage.  Says Debbie, “Since there are few single women and most couples socialize together, I find myself on my own or hanging out with the “guys” (male single-handers).  I pay my own way at happy hours and group dinners and don’t expect to be treated any different from any of the other guys.”

An alternative to being lonely or depending on men who may have other agendas is taking on another woman as crew.

Rachel of Ventana met Elisabeth, a young Norwegian, in Panama crewing on a German boat transiting the canal for the South Pacific. The boat was Elisabeth’s fourth boat with a male skipper.  Over a casual conversation on the vagaries of crewing for single women, a mutual friend mentioned Rachel and that she’d recently been through two disappointing crew. Elisabeth sought Rachel out and has been her crew for the six years since.

Joy of Banshee has a similar arrangement now with Leslie, who “dropped into” Joy’s life 13 years ago.  “Leslie was a broke, single-handing scuba instructor on a tiny boat.  She loved sailing, enjoyed boat work and dreamed of going offshore, but didn’t have the finances to do so.”  Joy did have the finances and the comfortable cruising boat, but no sailing partner.  Again, a match-up that has stood the test of time.

Is it weird cruising as two women?  “When we arrive in a small village in a remote island group,” relates Rachel, “the canoes will come out, look at Elisabeth and me and then ask where our husbands are?  When we explain that we don’t have any, they are very confused, and particularly the men have trouble relating to us. Imagine! Women, who have no children, sailing this big boat by themselves. We, in turn, look at their women and think how sad that they have not had the choices that we’ve had.”

Contributing Admirals:  Debbie Leisure, Illusions – SE USA; Joy Smith, Banshee –  Philippines; Marjetka K, Little Mermaid – Vanuatu; Sherry McCampbell, Soggy Paws – Panama; Jackie Hope, Soulmate – New Zealand; Rachel Emery, Ventana – Papua New Guinea; Linda Morgenstern, Serafin – New Caledonia;  Terri Watson and Kimi Harrison, Delphinus – Bay Area USA, and others.

This article was published in the November 2008 issue of Latitudes and Attitudes.

Related articles (on this website)

• Single Women Sailing – Part 1 (Admiral’s Angle column #27)
• Debbie Leisure learns to sail her boat single-handed (Women and Cruising blog)
• Sailing on, single handed, by Elizabeth Tyler
• On my own, but never alone, by Laura McCrossin

How much you need to know will depend on where you are cruising, how many crew there are, and what your role needs to be. The woman who is single-handing across an ocean needs to know far more than the woman whose partner has been a mechanic all his life. The thing is we use this stuff, so we at least ought to know what and where it all is.

Even the simplest cruising boat contains an intermeshed set of internal systems. A good approach to learning what’s on your boat could be to sit down over a diagram of your boat’s bare hull and sketch each in. Start with the propulsion system: the engine itself, the transmission, propeller and shaft, as well as the engine’s cooling system, from the raw water intake to the heat exchanger to the exhaust. Note where her fuel tanks, fuel filter(s), ignition button or key and fuel shut-off are located.

On the next overlay (we’re hi-tech here!) lay in your boat’s 12v and 120v electrical systems, (or 24v and 240v, depending on where your boat is from.) The system is not only the pretty panel of circuit breakers, but all the wire runs from it to lights, fans, instruments, etc. Your drawing needn’t look like an electrician’s blueprint. Just get the gist of where wires run, but don’t forget to include the sources from which your boat’s electricity comes – the engine’s alternator, a shore power connection, batteries, inverter/chargers and their controllers, a generator, solar panels or a wind generator.

Next do a page on all the vessel’s plumbing, both salt water and fresh: the heads, holding tanks, your freshwater pump and the lines to sinks, showers and hot water heater. Don’t forget your tanks and, your watermaker if you have one. Hand-in-hand with the water systems are your drains and bilge pumps. Sketch in both manual and automatic pumps, as well as shower sumps, and maybe on the same page make note of cockpit drains and every other through-hull and sea cock. Right in your own galley there are two more systems to diagram: your refrigeration and the lines and solenoids bringing propane from external tanks to your stove. Maybe you even have air-conditioning to include.

By the time you’ve done all this – even if you cheat and just do it in your head – you will have a much better grasp than you did before of all that goes on behind the scenes of your boat, not to mention a lot more respect for what the boat’s “chief engineer” has to manage. If you are going to be the chief engineer, of course, you need to take this a lot further. Many liveaboard sailing courses teach the basics of daily maintenance checks and typical troubleshooting, and there are courses in marine engine maintenance available all over the country. Plus the best reference I know for anything you might ever want to know about your boat’s systems is Nigel Calder’s Boat Owner’s Mechanical & Electrical Manual.

But courses (and Nigel) may be a little over the top for the casual mechanic’s assistant that most cruising women prefer to be. Most Admirals out there learned what they know from their partners, usually by standing alongside and passing them tools. In fact, knowing what tools are called, what they do, and where they are kept on your boat is a great start.

There are basic things the most novice Admirals should make a concerted effort to understand before ever leaving the dock. You should be sure you know how to start and stop the engine, how the controls operate to move the boat in forward and reverse plus how to put her in neutral, what temperature and RPM the engine likes (and doesn’t like), and where (and why) to look for coolant water pumping overboard. Acquaint yourself with your boat’s alarms – high temperature, low oil pressure, high water – and know what to do if one goes off. You should make a practice of checking the bilge for water and making sure the bilge pumps are operational, and know how to close all through-hulls. These are the sorts of things on which you might have to act quickly and without direction.

It is also good to know how to do all the basic daily maintenance checks, specifically, how to check the oil level in the engine and transmission, how to check the engine’s coolant level, how to check the sea strainers and clear them of any sucked-in debris (and then get them properly resealed!), and how to check the belts. Learn how the fuel filters are supposed to look (nice and clear), so you’ll know at a glance if the fuel looks bad, and if you are lucky enough to have a dual Racor setup, know how to switch from one filter to the other as well as how to switch fuel tanks.

Most importantly, make a point of looking into the engine space occasionally under way so you’ll notice when something isn’t right – an oil leak here, belt dust there, a new sound or smell. Most of my Admirals say they are often first to hear, smell, or sense early warning signs. Never hesitate to question something that doesn’t seem right; catching a problem early is always better than waiting until it has turned into something major!

You won’t be cruising long before running the engine or generator to charge batteries or run the fridge will be routine. Whether you want to take it further will be up to you. You’ll have learning opportunities every day! Some women really get into the mechanical side of their boats. Pam of Kandarik recently flew to Portugal specifically to help her husband rebuild their engine. During the refit of Passage, Nita made it her personal project to rebuild the generator (and then painted it pink). Linda of Serafin is skippering her own boat across the Pacific, and Debbie of Illusions is proudly becoming self-sufficient after losing her husband. At the very least, the more you know, the more you can help your partner sort through the logical steps of problem solving.

Would it be good if you could change a fuel filter, tighten a belt, bleed the engine, or change the oil? Sure. When things go to hell-in-a-hand-basket, more than two hands are often needed. Plus every Admiral should at least THINK about what she would need to do if she suddenly found herself on her own. Remember, it is easier to get help from others (even by radio), if you at least have a working knowledge of what you are asking about.

But I’ll be honest with you. One of my Admirals, a circumnavigator no less, says she never set foot in the engine room! Another shakes her head at her ability to retain anything mechanical. A third doubts her physical ability to do the job. And let’s be frank, none of us likes to get our hands dirty! So, here’s the deal. Know enough to use your boat’s systems safely and to be able to help when help is needed, and then be open to learning more about how it all works. It is all surprisingly logical and interesting and, considering how much more secure knowing more will make you feel, worth the effort.

Contributing Admirals: Jane Hockley, Lionheart; Linda Morgenstern, Serafin; Debbie Leisure, Illusions; Ellen Sanpere, Cayenne III; Bev Feiges: Cloverleaf; Donna Abbot, Exit Only; Kathy Parsons, Hale Kai; Maribel Penichet, Paper Moon; and others.

This article was published in the May 2008 issue of Latitudes and Attitudes.

Back in my charter days I was reminded on a weekly basis that simple terms like these remain arcane to landlubbers and neophytes. I would give a simple orientation to basic boat-speak the first afternoon, and, if my guests’ eyes glazed over, I could guess that the boat to them was going to be little more a floating hotel room. But, if their eyes lit up and they rolled the unfamiliar words on their tongue with a smile, then I was optimistic we might make some sailors that week.

No argument: nautical lingo can seem to the novice like an obscure and antiquated language perpetrated by old salts merely to be difficult, to set us late-starters apart from old hands, or to close the door on an exclusive (male?) club. I have actually met people on boats who stubbornly refuse to pick it up, not unlike people who spend time in a foreign county and make no effort to learn the simplest words in the local language

But as in any field of expertise, proper terminology allows precise communication and makes the job go smoother. “It is much easier to know what the mainsheet is when asked to ease it,” says Debbie of Illusions, “than to have to have it described to you as ‘that rope on your left (well, it was on your left until you turned around) that is wrapped around that round thingamajig and I need it looser.’” Such loose directions might serve in day-to-day pleasure sails, but cruising ups the ante. “Picture yourself on your boat in bad weather, an emergency or simply closing on a rocky shore where a brisk tack is needed. You can either be part of a problem situation, or you can be ready to help deal with it!”

How do you go about learning proper nautical terminology? Of all the things to learn about on a boat, nautical terminology is one of the ones most suited to learning from a book. One of the absolute best (and the one I learned from) is Chapman’s Piloting and Seamanship, by Elbert S. Maloney. Currently in its 65^th edition, Chapman’s is still the text chosen for many of the leading boating courses. The importance of acquiring a nautical vocabulary is indicated by the subject’s position as the very first chapter. In other words, it is all but impossible to learn anything about seamanship, boat handling, line-handling or navigation (subjects of subsequent chapters) without the fundamental words in place. Chapman’s goes into comprehensive detail on the language of boating, covering the words you need to describe the kind of boat you have, all its parts and pieces, its construction, its equipment, and its operation for sailboats, powerboats as well small craft and dinghies, and, as unlikely as it may seem that you might ever use some of those esoteric-looking terms, most all of them are truly in regular use. Chapman’s is a terrific reference to have for many reasons. If you don’t have Chapman’s aboard your boat, it is easy to find used copies, but I will say that the newest edition, with its color photos and up-to-date chapters on the ever-changing subject of marine electronics, tempts me to get a new edition myself!

For a softer start, Suzanne Geisemann in her book It’s Your Boat Too looks at many of the same subjects as Chapman’s, but does so with a sisterly approach sympathetic to some women’s extreme sensitivity to looking “stupid, dumb, ignorant or silly.” Her chapter on nautical terminology includes examples of how you might use the words in conversation, even to the point of cluing you in to some pitfalls of pronunciation.

Yet another reference you might turn to is your favorite marine supply catalogue. “Doing most of the Port Supply ordering for our boats over the past twelve years has taught me a lot of the names of things that are found on boats,” says Ellen of Cayenne III. “As a writer and a wordsmith, I love knowing and using the correct words for even the most obscure boat parts.”

Cin Blond of Tashmoo, a 41 Bristol, concurs. “I found it important to learn the lingo, because it gave me more confidence in just about everything having to do with cruising. I can pick up any chart or cruising guide and understand what I’m reading about, and I’m never hesitant about ‘talking boats’ with supply facilities, marinas or other boaters.”

While we are speaking about references, cruisers venturing into foreign waters should consider that the nautical vocabulary of the English-speaking world will not help you much in French or Spanish-speaking islands. On my first voyage south from the Virgin Islands, we put into Guadeloupe after blowing out four sail slides on the luff of the main sail. Now here was a very specific part needed the word for which I can assure you was NOT in my French-English dictionary. Fortunately for today’s cruisers, our own Admiral Kathy Parsons has assembled indispensable compendiums of nautical lingo in both Spanish and French (Spanish for Cruisers and French for Cruisers),volumes that actually would make pretty fair primers of general nautical terminology in their own right!

If you find yourself having trouble remembering it all, consider making yourself some cheat sheets. Index cards with labeled sketches of your boat, cockpit, foredeck, engine, etc. with arrows can really help. You can study them like flash cards! Likewise, consider getting a label-maker and actually affixing the names of things right beside them.& This can be particularly helpful in sorting out various lines on the mast and boom or where they come into the cockpit through clutches.

“When I hear somebody using correct nautical terminology, my respect for that person increases,” says Ellen of Cayenne III. “I spend less time being distracted by trying to figure out what the proper term should have been and more time listening to the issue being discussed. That said, I am human and sometimes rather lazy, so I often do go downstairs (below) at 6PM (1800) to make dinner in the kitchen (galley) after washing up in the bathroom (head). And while my husband Tony can tell you the make and model of any boat he sees, names of boat parts escape his brain. Even on the race course, for him it’s often ‘pull on’ (trim) or ‘leggo’ (ease) the ‘como se llama’ (the whatchamacallit)! It’s better than calling a sheet a halyard, I guess. (In spite of that, he wins a lot!)”

In the end, what’s important is understanding and being understood. No one in the cruising world will judge you harshly if you mix up your terms now and then, but, understanding is facilitated when we all speak the same language. Nautical lingo is the product of a long and rich tradition, and, as in any culture, knowing the language interweaves you into that heritage. Just take care not to overdo it. Let it come naturally as your experience widens. As Chapman’s tersely concludes, “Strained efforts to affect a salty lingo are conspicuously inappropriate.”

Contributing Admirals: Debbie Leisure, Illusions; Ellen Sanpere, Cayenne III; Judy Knape, Ursa Minor; Kathy Parsons, Hale Kai; Cin Blond, Tashmoo; and others.

This article was published in the February 2008 issue of Latitudes and Attitudes.

Consider the story of Sheri Schneider of the Gozzard 44 Procyon. After many years of preparation and short-range trips to the Bahamas and Maine, Sheri and her husband Randy — in their 40s, fit and with Randy recently retired from the US Coast Guard — left Beaufort, NC bound for the Panama Canal by way of the Western Caribbean. They had a long-planned rendezvous with friends they’d made in the Bahamas to transit the canal and head for the Pacific. All went well on the transit, and they got an auspicious start on their first long passage – six days from Panama to the Galapagos – with near perfect sailing conditions.

On their first morning in Puerto Ayora, however, Randy woke with stomach pain. “We blamed it on the arrival lunch with our friends the day before and continued on with an island tour. But throughout the day and the following night, Randy’s conditioned worsened, and after some fruitless visits to the local clinic we realized the problem was becoming serious.” Thanks to their membership in DAN*, Sheri was able to make one call and the medical evacuation to Quito was arranged. Within a half hour of arriving in the emergency room, Randy was in surgery for a perforated ulcer!

Being sick in a foreign country where the language is different and the standard of care may not seem to measure up to what we’re used to is an anxious experience many cruisers encounter in their travels. Likewise, leaving the boat in an unfamiliar anchorage does not help. Yet both these experiences went well for Sheri and Randy because of two fundamental assets: membership in DAN, which coordinated every aspect of the emergency evacuation, and friendships with other cruisers they could rely on. Unfortunately, because the doctor in Quito recommended six weeks of recuperation, Sheri and Randy were forced to watch those friends sail on without them.

“When we finally departed for the Marquesas, we made great time, averaging over 160 miles a day the first nine days.” On May 8, however, with 1266 miles to go, a badly-timed lurch knocked Randy over and he fell onto the cockpit table hitting his back and his head. “At first we were most worried about a concussion, but the next morning Randy woke with major stomach pains again. “ Although the symptoms were somewhat different, by the 10^th, he could no longer manage his watches and was out flat below. He could not keep food, medication or water down, and he had not passed anything in days. Abruptly Sheri found herself single-handing a forty-four foot boat, standing all the watches, doing the navigation, handling the sails, even attending to the engine. They were halfway across the Pacific. “I was very much afraid Randy might die.”

From their first boat, a Macgregor 26’, Sheri and Randy worked at their sailing together. Obviously his Coast Guard career gave Randy a huge head start, but he insisted Sheri learn everything he did, and she was lucky that he was a good teacher, “a natural explainer.” They continued to learn together as they graduated over the next twelve years from the Macgregor in California and Oregon to a C&C 37 in Newport, RI, and finally in North Carolina to Procyon which they had built for them. Having the boat built meant they could have her fitted just the way they wanted, and four years later Sheri would have cause to appreciate the cutter-rig’s furling sails, controls led back to the cockpit, integrated cockpit navigation, and the single electric winch installed in consideration of Sheri’s bad shoulder.

But to Sheri on her own in the Pacific, the most important piece of equipment on Procyon was their SSB radio. Although their closest friends were long arrived in the Marquesas, Sheri could still be in touch with them via the morning crossing net. Alerted to her crisis, other boats on passage joined in to lend moral support by radio throughout the day, and three nearby Norwegian-flagged boats listening to the net changed course to maneuver into VHF range. Additionally Dr. Tom Walker of the catamaran Quantum Leap, although 500 miles ahead, daily talked Sheri through monitoring Randy’s vitals and administering treatments (enemas fashioned from a first aid kit syringe and some heat shrink tubing administered ten minutes every hour in an effort to ease the suspected blockage and combat dehydration.) “You can’t get that kind of support over a satellite phone.”

While Sheri juggled being both a full-time skipper and nurse, her friends, recognizing that Randy’s deteriorating condition required evacuation, took on contacting the authorities. Working with the USCG and French Navy, a nearby container ship enroute from Panama to Papeete was diverted to a rendezvous. Meanwhile, the Norwegian boats converged on Procyon and launched a dinghy to facilitate the transfer to the 700’ vessel.

This was Sheri’s worst moment. The ship could spare no crew to help with Procyon. Would Randy’s care aboard be any better than she was giving? Could Randy last the 2-3 days it would take the ship to reach Papeete? And should she go with him…which would mean abandoning the boat?

Suspecting he would refuse to go on that basis, Sheri decided to stay with their boat, but watching the ship steam away after Randy was hoisted aboard was an awful moment. “How would I find him? How would I get news? Had I made the right choice? As long as he was in the bunk below, I’d known I could count on him for a hug and to answer questions. Now I was on my own.” That night Jan and Eva on Necessity shadowed her and kept watch for both boats so Sheri could try for some much-needed sleep, but all the uncertainties continued to haunt her.

The morning brought good news. Unknown to them, the container ship had a French woman doctor as passenger who’d promptly put Randy on an IV. Hydrated and on a stable platform, his insides finally got a break, and the blockage, probably an intestinal adhesion from the surgery that had broken away in the fall, passed. Randy rebounded overnight and was able to tell her himself on the morning net.

Unfortunately, with 800 miles still remaining to Nuku Hiva, the wind was dying. Motoring now, Sheri had to deal with such practical issues as fuel supply and a clogging filter. Alerted to her concerns, their friends on Endangered  Species and Wind Pony in Nuku Hiva filled all spare fuel jugs and shuffled crew so that one boat could motor out to meet her with help. “I can’t tell you what it felt like when I saw Wind Pony motoring over the horizon, blasting Aretha Franklin’s “Respect” over their speakers.”

Now, fifteen months (and some thorough medical checkups later), Sheri and Randy sit on the lovely Procyon shifting gently on her mooring in Musket Cove as Sheri tells me this story. Around us are moored many of the players from this saga, friends for life. The Schneiders have sailed 5000 more miles since the Marquesas, including the vigorous roundtrip to New Zealand, with no further problems, and they have many more they mean to sail. “I didn’t want to go, you know,” says Randy. “It was a fait accompli by the time I knew about it. But I knew she would be okay. She had the abilities to do it.”

“And that’s the point of telling this story,” says Sheri, “that women need to know. They need to know about evacuation insurance, and they need to know about the importance of an SSB radio and how to use it to get help and support from nearby. But most of all they need to know their boat systems and how to sail the boat if the worst happens. Women came up to me afterward and called me a hero, but there’s not a thing heroic about it. It’s just being able to do what you have to.”

*DAN or Diver’s Alert Network is not just for scuba divers. Join at http://www.diversalertnetwork.org

This article was published in the December 2007 issue of Latitudes and Attitudes.

Related articles (on this website)

• Peace of Mind—Emergency Skills (Admiral’s Angle column #4)
• Taking Care of Ourselves (Admiral’s Angle column #30)

My husband Don took a lot of grief from his family when he packed up his daughter, took his Catalina 25 in tow, and moved to Florida in search of year round-sailing. Don hails from a small town in the middle of corn and soy fields, the kind of place where farmers at the morning coffee shop narrow their eyebrows when he goes in with his Dad and say, “You still livin’ on that boat? How the hell d’ya live on a boat?” Imagine what they had to say when he got a bigger boat and sailed off to the islands. It’s kind of like that old staying, “If I have to explain, you’ll never understand.”

So I was surprised, several years ago, while we were back visiting family in the States, when my husband’s brother Greg, an elementary school principal in Valparaiso, invited us to give a talk about the cruising life to his fourth grade students. I was surprised that we sea gypsies might not be seen as an inappropriate influence; surprised that he thought we might have something to say to them. But, just as I was beginning to despair about crafting a talk that on the one hand wouldn’t bore the kids while on the other wouldn’t have the principal’s office deluged by irate parents, Greg sent us his list of “LifeSkills,” a set fundamental life principles around which the curriculum of his school is shaped. Every teacher in every grade is expected to foster these life skills in the subjects they teach, and he would appreciate it if we could find a way to work them in. I was stunned. It was a checklist for cruiser character.

Here’s the list: Curiosity, Initiative, Organization, Flexibility, Patience, Common Sense, Perseverance, Responsibility, Problem Solving, Cooperation, Effort, Courage, Pride, Friendship & Caring, Integrity, and Sense of Humor

Wow! It’s curiosity – about what’s around the bend or beyond the horizon – that pushes the casual sailor over the line into being a cruiser in the first place. Then after we arrive, initiative is what gets us off the boat, exploring trails into the forest or venturing into villages to reach out for new experiences.

There’s no way we’d get there without organization. Fitting our lives into the small space of a boat while meeting all the requirements of being a world citizen – bills, bank accounts, taxes, and travel documents – demands it, and of course the traditions of good seamanship, of operating your boat anywhere, are all founded on carefully organized systems.

Flexibility in schedule is not just a perk of cruising, it’s what keeps us safe, but flexibility of mind is also what enables us to visit different places and cultures and adapt when things there are not the way they are back home.

Patience is a virtue strived for not simply between crew living 24/7 in a restricted space, but it is necessary to staying sane ashore when things don’t get done the way we are used to. Common sense is the middle ground between naïve expectations about the world and paranoia about the different. It’s what keeps us taking basic precautions like locking the boat, securing the dinghy at night, or not flaunting our (relative) wealth with jewelry and such when we squeeze into the local bus, but it’s also putting out extra rode and a spare snubber before a blow rather than during it!

Perseverance is what keeps us going through a squall, through a long night passage…or through a long squall on a night passage! Perseverance what keeps us going when it isn’t always fun.

Responsibility, of course, is what we have taken for ourselves and each other when we leave the dock, when we are out of reach of the fallbacks home affords us. We must take care of the boat and each other in a huge range of (often unforeseen) circumstances, plus we must endeavor to behave responsibly with respect to the rights of a more complicated set of others: other boaters, other peoples, and above all, Mother Nature. Having taken on those responsibilities, we find they put us in problem-solving situations on an every-day basis – breakdowns we might have taken to a mechanic or injuries we’d have taken to a doctor. Cooperation is what gets a cruising team through those responsibilities and problems, and it’s also the magic that conjures a cruising community out of an anchorage of boats, whether the goal is a potluck or rescuing a boat on a reef.

In between storms, sharks and pirates, folks back home will insist in imagining our lives as one of bohemian indolence: you know, lolling in the hammock with a book and a cold beer. Certainly, there’s some of that! But we know that in choosing the cruising life we have, in fact, taken on a life of almost constant effort, not just managing the sailing and the mental challenges of navigating unknown waters, reading the weather and learning new languages, but getting done everyday chores those folks back home take for granted.

To do all that we do, so much of it stuff we have never done before and in places we have never been and so different from home, calls for courage, no more no less than does coping with the rare dramas – storms, sharks or pirates – that those folks back home imagine as our everyday fare. Pride in all those accomplishments is not misplaced, no more than is pride in a well-maintained boat.

Friendships are almost taken for granted in a hometown community, but surely one of the greatest treasures of the cruising life are the friends we make from all over the world, the islanders with whom a special bond is formed over shared fish or the other cruisers who are there to support us when our independence slips.

A synonym for integrity is honesty, but it is more than that. A cruiser who abides by a set of firm moral principals, not necessarily the ones of his/her own country or his/her formal religious beliefs, is a person of true integrity. It would be easy in the unfixed way of the cruising life to let such principles slide. Who would know? It takes so much energy managing all these other things, that little dishonesties could go unnoticed. We all know people who have fudged customs requirements, who have shortened the paper length of their boats in marinas, or who have gotten more than they’ve given. We may have done it ourselves. But true integrity, practiced in the absence of monitoring authorities, even of judgmental communities, is something truly worthy of respect.

I’ve saved sense of humor for last. Sense of humor is the leavening in the mix of all of the above. If we needed to take the cruising life as seriously as I’ve made it sound, if it were simply as much work as I’ve made it sound, then why would we go? We go because it is fun, because we feel more fully alive than we have at any other time in our lives, because our sense of self can be more fully realized, and because that self is self-defined.

So, if anyone back home is making you feel like a black sheep, stand tall. The choice to go cruising does not automatically turn you into a misfit, drifter or beach bum. On the contrary, against the life skills checklist straight from the heartland of America, I’d say we sea gypsies measure up just fine.

LifeSkills are by Susan Kovalik and are listed in the book, ITI: The Model Integrated Thematic Instruction by Susan Kovalik with Karen Olsen, 1994 & 1997. First published 1994 and the 1997 was the Updated Third Edition.

This article was published in the July 2007 issue of Latitudes and Attitudes.

“Just take the dinghy,” he says, assuming that you will know how to drive it by osmosis. And maybe you will. Maybe you’ve been paying enough attention to wing it. Or maybe, if you ask, your partner can teach you. It may turn out, however, he’s been winging it himself!

Just in case, here’s Dinghy Driving 101.

In the outboard store there are dozens of different kinds of motors, but from a novice driver’s point of view there are two: ones with a transmission and ones that start in gear. Reading your engine’s manual (what a concept!) is the best way to get the starting sequence right.

Before setting out anywhere in your dinghy, even just to practice, be sure you have a dinghy anchor and rode aboard, lifejackets (a Coast Guard requirement), a line or painter to tie up with at your destination, and, until you get some experience, a handheld radio to call for help with! Oh, yes, and oars. Take a minute to learn how to mount and/or extend your oars, and remember to put in the seat. Even with these backups in place, avoid casting off from the big boat or the dock until you have your engine running. It is surely one of the most frustrating things to have to ship the oars and row back to your own boat when an outboard refuses to start.

Before yanking the start cord on your outboard, check the fuel tank to be sure you have gas. On external tanks, check that the fuel line is securely connected at both ends (with the arrow on the bulb pointing toward the engine) and without kinks and that the vent on the tank is open. Put the shift lever in neutral, and twist the throttle to the start line. If your motor hasn’t been run yet that day, give the fuel bulb a couple of squeezes and pull out the choke. Now give that start cord a brisk, even pull. It should start in two or three tries. If it doesn’t, review the above checklist.

When the outboard starts, push in the choke quickly, or it will stall. There is no need to rev the motor, and if it is revving loudly on its own, then you probably didn’t have the throttle set at the start line. Back it off. If on the other hand it sounds like it’s struggling, give a bit more throttle. If it does die, open the throttle a bit more, and start again (no choke). All motors benefit from a little warm up. Make sure your outboard is running well before you cast off and ensure nothing is dragging overboard.

Now, VERY IMPORTANT….before you do anything else, attach the cable from the motor’s kill switch to your person. This is the little twisted wire with a clip on the end that hangs from the outboard’s “key,” a C-shaped wedge shoved under the red “kill” button on the front of your outboard. Pushing on the button is what shuts your motor off, so pulling out this key will stop it instantly should you unexpectedly fall out while in gear. This is a habit that could save your life someday. Get into it!

To go forward, push the transmission lever forward and gently twist the throttle to accelerate. Underway your dinghy will steer like any boat with a tiller. If you push the tiller to the right, the boat will turn to the left and vice versa. In reverse, if you push the tiller to the right, the stern of the dinghy will go left “following” the direction the back of the motor is pointing. Very small outboards without a transmission start in forward. Since they don’t go fast, it’s not a problem. To reverse, you spin the whole engine!

Drive slowly to start. You’re probably already aware that a boat does not react as precisely as a car, especially at slow speeds. This is even more pronounced for a dinghy, especially an inflatable one. For example, when you come to a stop, the bow will blow down one way or the other as soon as you lose momentum. Another effect comes from prop walk; whichever way your propeller turns in forward, the stern of your dinghy will kick in that direction. In reverse the dinghy’s stern will pull hard the opposite way. This affects your maneuvering ability at slow speeds in tight places. Play with this, turning in circles, in forward and reverse, so you can anticipate these effects. With a little practice they can work for you instead of against.

Depending on the dinghy, the size of the outboard, the load you have aboard, and the water conditions, you can generally move across open stretches of water more quickly with less splashing if you can get the boat up on a plane. If you are alone, be cautious and sit forward as the bow can come up abruptly as you accelerate! Once on the plane, you can ease back on the throttle a bit and stay there. Be conscious of your wake and its effect on others, and when you slow down, do so gradually or else your wake will swamp you from astern!

To come alongside a boat, approach its quarter slowly from behind (into the wind) at a 45^o angle. Several yards before your dinghy touches, turn to parallel and shift to neutral. Your momentum should slide the dinghy neatly and gently alongside. This avoids smacking the side creating a scratch or a splash! Plus your remaining momentum gives you time to stand up with painter in hand and secure yourself before you blow off. This takes a bit a practice, but it is better seamanship than a T-bone or downwind arrival!

Landing ashore is always easiest at a dock. If there are too many dinghies to dock alongside as above, you may have to nose your way in. You will quickly appreciate the good protocol of leaving plenty of painter between the dock and your dinghy, so, if you lock up your dinghy, be sure your cable is plenty long. If your dinghy could be caught under the dock by a rising tide or if a wharf’s condition might damage your inflatable, play out your dinghy anchor from the stern as your momentum carries you the last few yards and tie it off just long enough to let you climb off. Leaving plenty of painter from the bow will spring the dinghy away.

Beaching a dinghy in anything but the quietest of waters is not something novice dinghy drivers should attempt alone. Getting cock-eyed in a swell can spin you, swamp you, or worse! Even in flat and tide-less conditions, you still need to worry about abrading the dinghy’s bottom when approaching and dragging it ashore. As water shallows, turn your motor off and tilt it forward to protect to your propeller. Then step out and walk the dinghy in. Either anchor the dinghy afloat or pull it above the high-watermark and put the anchor a few yard inshore or tie it off.

Becoming competent in driving the dinghy removes many fetters that constrain a woman’s enjoyment of cruising. It eases the making of friendships and frees you to spend more time doing things you enjoy. With experience will come finesse, but getting out there on your own is the first step.

This article was published in the June 2007 issue of Latitudes and Attitudes.

Vicki found herself living aboard because she “fell in love with a man who loves the sea,” but she herself grew up with little connection to it, learning to swim late in childhood, tasting saltwater the first time at 20, and only enjoying her first snorkel in St. Thomas at 33. When Jim’s dream for a circumnavigation took shape, the original idea was she would fly to join him as she wished, but, when crew plans fell apart, she ended up aboard fulltime.

At first, Vicki did not think she had “IT”. To her IT was “confidence to begin something you have never done before.” In my years as a scuba instructor, I ran into this self-doubt over and over. Accustomed as we become as adults to a known world, we simply forget the feel of uncertainty, the bio-chemical janglings of the “yellow alert” our bodies broadcast when we address the unknown.

With anxious dive students, I preached my zone theory in which the picket fence surrounding our comfort zone is itself surrounded by the thrill zone. When we step beyond the fence, adrenalin pumps, our hearts beat faster and our stomachs flutter as our nervous systems shout, “WAKE UP AND PAY ATTENTION HERE!” Is this remotely an inappropriate reaction the first times we plunge beneath the sea, lose sight of land on the horizon, point the bow at new latitudes, or sail into the black of a night passage? Hardly! Even now, after twenty years of living on the water, I continue to feel that shiver of yellow alert whenever I head somewhere new. But with the success of each foray into the thrill zone, our comfort zones expand. Over the years, cruisers can end up with some pretty big comfort zones!

On the other hand, some people mistake the yellow alert of the thrill zone for the red alarms of the panic zone, which lurks out there for all of us. Bold young folk may doubt its existence, because they have yet to touch it, but, as years go by and life gives us occasion to recognize our mortality, our thrill zone narrows, sometimes so much that it seems easier to leave closed that picket gate.

You simply cannot be a cruiser and leave that gate closed. But there is no rule that you have to dash through. The key is to go forth at a pace appropriate to you. For nervous cruisers this means starting slowly, growing prudently. Expand daysails to multi-day sails, push to a few passages out of sight of land, and then, when you feel good about those and the forecast is good, add an overnight. If dawn comes and you think to yourself, “I never want to do THAT again!” then the cruising life may not be for you. But if you find yourself thinking proudly, “Holy cow, we did it!”… keep right on sailing.

Kathy B. of Sunflower sent me an insight on this: Given that the physiological responses for fear and excitement are virtually the same, how you talk about those feelings can color your actual reaction, i.e. if you speak of fear, you feel frightened; if you spin it as excitement, your emotions can be persuaded! The Latitudes & Attitudes store has shirts that proclaim “Attitude: the Difference Between Ordeal and Adventure.” Wear one and feel brave!

“I remember the moment I learned to stay calm,” Vicki wrote. “We’d been running south from Hurricane Lenny for two days, but it seemed like he was chasing us. We’d had 40-50 knot squalls and zero visibility repeatedly. Then the lightening started. I prayed aloud ‘Please, God, not lightening.’ Jim called to me to stay calm, and suddenly it became clear that my natural reaction — to crank up the emotions to full-blown panic — was pointless. We just had to deal with it. Within an hour we were in a safe harbor with two anchors set. We’d faced disaster and succeeded in keeping ourselves safe!”

Vicki’s letter to me concluded with these words: “Who can be sure ahead of time if the cruising life is going to be right for them? Those who decide not to go must know themselves well enough to realize they don’t want to be tested in unpredictable circumstances. There! I think that I’ve found the crux of the matter. In order to have IT, you must be willing to be tested, to be challenged, to face the unknown with a bit of bravado….. Gee, Gwen, maybe I’ve had IT all along!”

Contributing Admirals: Vicki Juvrud, Firebird; Kathy Blanding, Sunflower; and others.

This article was published in the February 2007 issue of Latitudes and Attitudes.