My Friends Are​ Dangerous

My Friends Are​ Dangerous

- Bruce Bateau

“I forgot my VHF radio,” Tom announced. We were about to depart on a three-day trip. As we sailed away from the dock, I hoped my friend would arrive at the evening’s designated campsite in one piece; it wasn’t likely we’d find him, otherwise.

On another outing, this one an afternoon sail near a rocky shore, my friend John confided that he didn’t think he’d need an anchor today. When his rudder malfunctioned later that day, John was lucky to make it to the oars before he was wrecked. A small anchor would have made his afternoon a lot calmer.

Those are just two narrow escapes involving my friends. I love my sailing pals, but let’s face facts: these guys are dangerous. Not menacing—they’re no Hell’s Angels; but they regularly put themselves into positions in which they could get hurt, or even die. Surviving an encounter with a mean biker gang might be a matter of luck, but my friends’ safety could be in their own hands—if only they’d take an active role in it. 

I bet you’re not much safer. 

My friend James often talks about his “systems.” Systems for rigging, systems for stowing gear, capsize recovery, setting up; even for cleaning up his boat. The big idea is that he knows every aspect of his craft so well that he can take things apart and put them back together, even in the dark. This knowledge lets him respond easily and calmly during moments of stress that might overwhelm the average sailor. 

Before I met James, I was that average sailor.