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Sailing (and life) lesson: know where you want to go.

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My first attempt at skippering our 13 foot wooden yawl was a disaster. The wind on Pamlico Sound in the Outer Banks of North Carolina was stiff when I took the tiller and the main sheet (the line that trims the mainsail).

When the wind is blowing and the boat is tipping, things happen fast. As a skipper, all you have is a sail, your body, and a tiller, and you need to be able to react quickly.

You need instinct. And I didn’t have it.

Every time the boat heeled, I steered into the wind to keep from capsizing, then lost momentum. I put us “in irons.” Despite steady, moving air, my sail flapped, and the boat stalled. We’d get going again, the boat would tip, and each time, I reacted out of fear instead of confidence. I was at the mercy of the wind and the chop, knowing nothing about how to use my body, how to work the sail, which way to move the tiller. I ended the day totally defeated, in tears, wondering how I could have lived my entire childhood on the water and have no instinct.

On my second attempt, I took only the tiller. My husband took the sheet. Controlling everything at once was too much on my first skippering effort.

“I won’t let us capsize,” he told me. “Just get a feel for the tiller. I’ll take care of the sail. If you feel us heel, it’s okay, let it tip — I’ll spill some wind if we’re in danger.”

Brian had gotten us into open water on the sound before handing the boat over to me. As I took the tiller and nestled into the stern, my back against the gunwale, Brian said, “Where do you want to go?”

“That green house,” I said, and pointed at the one landmark that stood out and that I recognized.

“Ok, I’ll control the sail. Point toward the house and hold the course with the tiller.”

And I did. It was terribly difficult to hold a steady course. Wind, chop, and the force of water against the tiller required constant adjustment to stay on course. If I didn’t have a mark to watch, who knows where we would have ended up. With all the forces on the boat, it wanted to steer itself, and it was up to me to keep us on course. There was no such thing as set it and forget it.

As we approaced the house, and therefore land, I told Brian, “We need to think about turning.”

“Ok, where do you want to go?”

Uhh, I dunno. “Away from land?” I had already started turning the tiller.

He felt the boat turn. “Wait!” he said. “Don’t do anything until you know where you want to go. Where do you want to go?”

“Away from land! I don’t want to hit land.”

“But where do you want to go? That’s always the first step.”

I know it is absolutely cliche to use sailing metaphors, and I apologize for it. But this was a pivotal moment for me. For sailing, for my career, for life. The first step isn’t to dodge obstacles or let outside circumstances steer you.

The first step is to figure out where you want to go.

“Point us into the wind and set the mizzen to hold us steady so we can talk,” Brian said. I set the mizzen and we rocked gently on the water.

“Before you steer the boat,” he said, “you need to know where you want to go. Then you need to think it through.”

I had been sailing to avoid interference, going wherever the wind took me. I didn’t know where I wanted to go. I was just reacting to the land that was coming up fast, reacting to gusts that made me fear capsize.

“Don’t let the wind determine where you go,” Brian said. “You determine where you’re going, then use the wind to get you there.”

I pointed to a mark on the horizon, out in the sound. “There, that structure.” We turned, and sailed toward the mark I’d chosen. The tiller became more natural. I didn’t react as badly to the boat tipping. I held a steady course.

“I’m ready to try the sail, too,” I said, and Brian handed me the sheet. Within minutes I realized I need quite a bit more upper body strength. Sailing a small boat is an athletic endeavor.

We sailed about a mile offshore, and I was feeling comfortable that I was getting the hang of it. I no longer felt defeated.

“We should probably get back to the kids,” I said. “Let’s turn around and head back in.”

“Ok,” my husband said. “Where do you want to go?”

Ummm. Home? But when I looked back to shore, I pointed at the only thing I knew: the green house.

“Why the green house?” he asked.

“Because it’s what I know.”

“But is that where you want to go?”

“No.”

“Set the mizzen,” he said. “Let’s think this through.”

By now I knew how to set the mizzen, but I still didn’t know how to think fast enough to know where I wanted to go and do all the things I needed to do to get us there. I fell back on a mark that was safe and comfortable, even though it wasn’t the place we needed to be.

“Where do you want to go?” he said again. I pointed this time to the small channel he navigated us through each time we left our rental house and headed out on the sound.

“Where is the wind?” he asked. I pointed straight ahead, to the north.

“Where do you need to point the boat?”

I pointed to the right of the bow, to what would be 2 o’clock on a clock face. “About 60 degrees off the wind.”

“How do you use the equipment you have — our bodies, the tiller, and the sail — to get you there?”

“We need to lean to starboard to let the sail fill a little, then I’ll pull the tiller towards me to steer the boat towards our mark. I’ll pull the sheet to trim the sail tight, and hold the course with the tiller.”

And then we did it. I sailed us to the channel, where Brian took over and then brought us in. As water slapped the hull, wind filled the sail, and Brian steered us through the channel, I was in awe of the simple, fundamental life lessons I learned on my second attempt at skippering:

  1. Know where you want to go.
  2. Give yourself a safe space to think.
  3. Plan your course, keeping in mind conditions and resources.
  4. Make constant adjustments to keep on course.
  5. Arrive.
  6. Drink, and enjoy the place you’ve gotten to.

These are lessons I carry with me back to work, and through the rest of life.

The kids were waiting their turn when we tacked up to the house. I jumped out and they jumped in. I was giddy with finding comfort on the boat, and though it was only 11am, I poured myself a glass of wine. I don’t have instinct yet, but with practice I will.

61 thoughts on “Sailing (and life) lesson: know where you want to go.”

  8. I agree with Kurt, this is one of your best posts, and that is saying a lot!
    The imagery took me right out on the water with you, and I could feel the tension and anxiety.
    Your reflexive return to familiar, though I’ll-chosen, greenhouse ‘destination,’ also resonated, as did the repetition of necessary steps in order: Where do you want to go? What do you need to do to get there? What are the conditions, and what do you need to pay attention to? This method indeed applies to everything we do in life, from planning a meal to making a career.
    Thank you so much for sharing this important piece of learning!
    I will be visiting this post often, I think.
    Have a great week! 😊

    Liked by 5 people

  10. Interesting how being at the tiller of our narrowboat has its similarities insomuch as taking your time, knowing where you want to go, and thinking about the manoeuver you want to make before you start doing it. I had a terrible day and ended up in tears on our last trip out as I could not co-ordinate all of me to do what had to be done. No sails to worry about obviously, but trying to line up on my blind side was beyond me, and Hubby had to take over, making me feel more than useless. That evening, he made me a little plastic cut out of a boat with a tiller on a pin. We practiced the theory. I felt better, but still unsure, and went for a walk. Next day, a lot all came together. Sounds like Brian is a good teacher. Fascinating piece. I’ll remember it when we see the sail boats on the river here when we’re out. Thank you.

    Liked by 5 people

  13. I’m afraid of water and afraid of sailing too. But it’s on my list of things to do, and over come! I’ve hit that point in my life where I’m steering my boat in the right direction, but the course isn’t always easy or quick. Thanks for the great story!

    Liked by 5 people

  16. I just used a sailing reference in my last post but with a completely different content. Amazing to think that a single theme could bring two thoughts to opposite life ideals. I expect you are young and career driven and I am old (er) and retired with a differing view of life. I’d love to have you read my post! Keep writing, it’s beautiful.

    Liked by 4 people

  22. I love the way your post makes sailing seem like the perfect analogy for life.
    Sometimes, we don’t know where to go; we react immediately to small gusts of wind without looking at our destination. We prefer the comfort of known things rather than venturing out into the unknown even though that might be what we need.

    “Don’t let the wind determine where you go,” Brian said. “You determine where you’re going, then use the wind to get you there.”

    Liked by 2 people

  26. I learned sometime ago that in a powerboat one has to have a specific destination to be motoring to. When sailing I don’t need a destination, only the direction I want to go. If the wind or the currents change, I can change my course to seek a better direction. Sailboats change course slowly and deliberately and that’s OK. Keep sailing. It may be a metaphor but a good one.

    Liked by 1 person

  30. Amazing! I also don’t know a thing about sailing but your post was totally relatable. We have all had these moments in life and you put words to these feeling in a very illustrative way!

    Liked by 2 people

  31. Thank you for this account. It hit all the right chords and gave me a great way to think about my life as it is today. Strangely (?), it also echoed a recent dream I’ve pondered for several weeks. You write with uncommon grace. What a pleasure to find this diamond!
    Gratefully, Elouise

    Liked by 3 people

  44. Great post! I love you how you took your sailing lessons and applied them to life. I hope you don’t mind if I borrow your six life lessons and write them down for myself. Very inspiring.

    Liked by 1 person

  45. Andrea, I have just been introduced to blogging, and yours was the first to grab me. Wonderful. This line “You determine where you’re going, then use the wind to get you there.” really touched me. I’m beginning my own blog but don’t yet know enough to even call it up. Your words encourage and help me. Fare Forward, traveler.

    Liked by 3 people

  47. After reading this sailing life metaphor I connects with my life and see a clear path the exact direction to go to the place where I wanted to go, awesome!

    Liked by 1 person

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