A novice sailor transitions from the keyboard to the furling line, navigating various learning curves. Jenny Jasper embarks on a Competent Crew course, emerging with a newfound passion for yachting.
When I enrolled to enhance my sailing skills through an RYA Competent Crew course, I didn’t anticipate gasping at fins slicing through the waves. While standing on a Dufour 382 yacht admiring the sunlit dolphins, the idea of writing this article had yet to cross my mind.
As I leaned over the guardrails, I witnessed two dolphins vanish beneath the keel. Yet, I wasn’t there merely for viewing dolphins—I aimed to master sailing and excel as part of a yachting team.
It was a sunny Tuesday morning in May along Devon’s South Coast. We had cruised out of the Brixham harbour towards Dartmouth on Orion, the vessel owned by Torbay Sea School, the institution leading the course. Our swift instructor, Lucy, kept a watchful eye on us.
In comparison, my somewhat shaky stance perhaps revealed that this was only my third day sailing a yacht. I had imagined yachting as simply enjoying the view, envisioning a lifestyle of sipping champagne and lounging in boat shoes with minimal effort required to sail.
Provided by a colleague, I had anticipated that I would primarily be admiring the scenery, but I was in for an unexpected experience. With little muscle memory of balancing on water, I began to feel a new rugged texture on my hands.
Boarding: The skilled captain and her new crew
Our adventure commenced with Lucy, two other students undertaking Day Skipper courses, and myself gathering on Orion one Sunday evening. We shared our first meal in the harbour, getting acquainted and discussing our lives on land. The other two students were in their late teens, and as the sun set, we exchanged stories about attending festivals. After touring the yacht and settling in, we ventured into Brixham for drinks, bonding that would support us through the course.
As we chatted over drinks, Lucy and I discussed the experience of being a professional female sailor. My nerves began to ease, and I realized we shared much in common. A vibrant sunset illuminated the tranquil waters as we returned to Orion. I quickly succumbed to sleep, gently rocked to rest on a soft mattress in the boat’s forward cabin.
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Safety measures
On our first sailing day, we assembled by 0930, with the sun already shining in a cloudless sky. We convened in the Torquay Sea School classroom for an RNLI video on cold water shock. This informative video detailed the importance of wearing lifejackets, deploying and boarding a life raft, and managing an overboard incident.
The video advised us to remain still in the water while awaiting rescue to retain warmth. With a serious tone, we watched as no one saved the man overboard; his hat floated aimlessly on screen. Following that, we listened intently to Lucy’s clear safety briefing regarding life jackets and releasing dummy flares.
Soon we returned to Orion, where Lucy began teaching us the ropes. Before the course, I’d stared blankly at the word ‘halyard’ written down. Now, when I hear “halyard,” I picture Lucy, dressed in khaki shorts and a teal fleece with her hair in a ponytail, pointing to the top of the mast and explaining that a halyard is any line that goes upward.
After learning about lines, we departed in a pleasant Force 3 breeze. I squealed upon spotting four seals lounging on the edges of the harbor. One seal was flipped onto its back, seemingly pleading for a stomach scratch. As we passed on, the creature waved a flipper.
Initially, I took Lucy’s advice on ‘three points of contact’ to heart, often going above and beyond, tensing my face as I clung on. However, as my core strength grew, I widened my stance while winding winches, confidently swaying with the yacht’s movements.
Engaging with new language
Aboard, Lucy repeated item names and maneuvers until they began to roll off my tongue. Working with various sailing equipment while moving my body helped me absorb the new terminology more effectively.
Lucy provided me with the course’s RYA handbook. During downtime, I would sit on the settee or lounge beneath a cabin light, leafing through the book. I made drawings based on some diagrams, allowing me to effectively respond when someone mentioned ‘close reach’ while standing in the cockpit.
Lucy encouraged me to speak loudly while at the bow, especially when indicating distances to the pontoon. It took several attempts to project my voice without letting my words get lost in the wind.
Simple actions, like being positioned by the furled jib as we motored out, while observing the bow slice through the water, helped me align with the rhythm of the boat.
Being among more experienced sailors meant sailing terminology naturally floated around the cockpit. Before long, I mirrored the words and movements of those more seasoned than me.
Much like a sail, we would not have succeeded effectively if we had all started flailing. I appreciated how the other sailors recognized when I struggled with a line and promptly assisted. As time went on, I relied less on their over-the-shoulder guidance, finding a rhythm with the sloshing waves behind us.
Drawing from grounded activities
As the days progressed, I recognized similarities between sailing and hobbies I had enjoyed on solid ground. Tying knots brought memories of both macrame and crocheting during the hushed lockdown days in Falmouth, where seagulls outnumbered the people.
Cranking a winch felt akin to mixing my grandmother’s family chocolate cake recipe. I found my footing in these comforting reflections while grasping the winch handle.
As a child, I often wondered about the inflatable objects hanging from boats. Years later, while watching my fingers wrap fender ropes around guardrails, I listened to the waves gently kissing the starboard side. I’d assumed fenders, filled with air, would be light, but their weight surprised me.
Back in the marina, I observed the fenders battling against the pontoon as I wobbled on deck. Watching the sailing gear in action while feeling the breeze tousle my hair captivated me far more than poring over the theoretical textbooks.
Navigating the learning curves
At first, I experienced no shortage of mishaps. My sailing blunders included inadvertently letting the jib furling line go loose when it should have been eased gently. This mistake prompted Lucy to quickly dash to the bow and unhook the jib. She soon explained that mishandling the jib sail could lead to it breaking. Afterward, I began asking more questions regarding handling the furling line, aiming to show proper respect for the forces involved.
Notably, during a night sail, I stood on the starboard side in the dark, fender over the guardrail, winding up a knot. Suddenly, I glanced down and realized I had dropped the line. Hearing a splash, I leaned over the rail, cringing as I announced to everyone that I had let the fender slip. A subsequent dash to grab a boathook ensued. After several stretches and failed attempts to hook the line, I managed to retrieve the fender. Later, Lucy chuckled, saying she would document the incident in the logbook for some amusement.
A bout of me steering the wheel required deep side lunges. I observed the other sailors leaning at the boat’s nearly 40-degree angle. The two younger students had wide eyes as they held tightly to the Bimini. With effort, I tensed my body to steer, noticing Lucy had planted her weight calmly. My furrowed brow likely indicated to her what I lacked. The learning curve and inclined deck felt particularly steep. Lucy took over, guiding us onto a steadier course.
Gradually, my fingers began to move more fluidly over the wheel. Following Lucy’s advice, I focused on a fixed point on the horizon. I felt drawn to the helm and enjoyed standing in the nook behind the wheel, looking toward the boat’s bow for guidance.
Unexpected highs
During relatively quiet moments, I often tilted my head back to gaze at the sail despite not expecting it to be so enormous when viewed closely. While the Day Skipper students practiced mooring maneuvers, I would stand at the bow, letting the air ‘blow away the cobwebs,’ as my Cornish grandmother would say.
The scenery often resembled a shifting tapestry. While resting my hand against the furled sail in Dartmouth, I watched yachts lined up beneath the seemingly watchful homes of Kingsweir. I even spotted a steam train running near the shoreline, capturing video of the beige steam swirling into the greenery.
While winching, I often approached my tasks with enthusiasm. One urgent task was slipping the line into the self-tailer and securing it with a final tug. I eagerly anticipated coiling the lasso rope and practicing my throwing motion, calling out distances with excitement.
Before boarding, I had expressed concerns regarding seasickness to a colleague. However, rather than racing to the bathroom below deck, I was falling asleep to the boat’s sway more swiftly than I had on land. Occasionally, when tension builds in my body, I replay that rocking sensation in my mind, relaxing my muscles. The closest I’ve come to that rocking was lounging in my hammock.
I moved purposefully across the boat, recognizing that performing small tasks in the right order contributed to smooth sailing. Just like the lines, I understood that each crew member has a role, sometimes performed at different times but often together, even while resting aboard.
Who would have thought I would find stillness in aligning the yacht according to a wind vane? Even tidily looping lines and laying them out on the cockpit benches provided a sense of rhythm.
Prior to embarking on the course, a colleague had messaged me that I would discover muscles I never knew existed. As the course progressed, I found myself reaching for ibuprofen! Yet in due time, my back no longer felt glued to the cockpit; my core engaged to support me. I smiled while sharing with Lucy that sailing is the perfect sport for me since it doesn’t feel like exercise.
Riding the wave
By the time I disembarked from Orion for the last time, I had stronger muscles, a camera roll filled with stunning Devon views, and a newfound passion for sailing.
My sincere thanks to Lucy Rees and Torbay Sea School for providing such an awe-inspiring, informative, and physically rewarding journey. Lucy’s strength shone throughout, whether she was crouching beside the engine bay, sharing insight on mechanics, hauling lines, or patiently tying knots for eager students. She tirelessly answered numerous questions about sailing, guided us safely through the course, and allowed us the space to make our own decisions.
I especially remember a sudden rainstorm. The waves tossed us about, and Lucy was at the helm wearing a bright orange beanie, droplets of rain dancing on her face. While the students squinted and our hands paled in the dampness, she stood firm, as though she had never set foot on land, effortlessly adjusting the wheel. She even laughed at her drenched clothes and soaked hair.
Lucy presenting me with my Competent Crew certificate outside the Sea School’s reception felt akin to catching a wave and riding it home.
Lessons Learned
Line handling
Exercise caution to keep hands safe when working with lines, especially during winching, to avoid trapping fingers. Ensure that all lines are tightly secured, whether through a jammer or self-tailer.
Using winches
When utilizing a winch handle, ensure your body weight is positioned over the winch. The fist-over-fist method allows for manual line pulling while safeguarding fingers. After winching, provide four turns around the winch and secure it in the self-tailer. Remember to place the winch handle into its pocket when not in use.
Sail handling
When jibing, ensure that all crew members are prepared prior to tensioning or releasing lines, letting go of the jib, and securing the furling line. Always keep in mind that ‘a flappy sail isn’t a happy sail,’ aiding in recognizing when sail adjustments or jibing are needed.
Helming
Sailing the boat smoothly requires small movements on the wheel, except during particularly rough conditions. Focusing on a fixed point on the horizon helps maintain your course. I also learned how to use the wind vane to gauge the harmony between the yacht and wind.
Mooring
Preparing lines to lasso involves mastering the looping technique. I also developed skills in lassoing rope onto pontoon cleats (which I loved!), securing lines using an OXOO layout, and switching mooring lines.
Knot tying
Being able to tie clove hitches and bow lines swiftly proves valuable during urgent moments. Practicing these knots enabled me to secure fenders to guardrails and attach a boom preventer. Preventing fenders from falling is essential for saving precious time and dignity!
MOB drills and safety
Mastering the deployment of life rafts, flares, beacons, life jackets, and lifebuoys needs to become second nature. Cultivating confidence in summoning help during a man overboard or other emergencies, conserving energy in water, and monitoring the MOB are vital life-saving skills.
Maintaining indoor and outdoor spaces
Keep lines in the cockpit neatly coiled or stowed out of the way when not in use. Secure fragile items both above and below deck while the yacht is moving to avoid accidents.
Scanning for obstacles
Learn to scan in the cockpit for lobster pots, vessels on collision paths, and other possible hazards. Alert the skipper when obstructions are detected.
Anchoring
Hoisting and lowering the anchor should be done steadily to avoid damaging the vessel. When lowering, count the meters to prevent the chain from jamming in the device.
Three unexpected insights about sailing
It’s a physically engaging sport
By the second day, I realized that my preconceived notion of lounging and watching the sea was not crewing. Whether throwing mooring lines, hauling a halyard, or using the winch, I had a wonderful opportunity to strengthen my muscles.
It fosters equality
As Lucy noted, sailing alongside others establishes a unique equality, irrespective of background. I felt relaxed knowing that societal indicators of status were irrelevant; all that mattered was effectively fulfilling our roles.
There’s a sailing microcosm
I hadn’t anticipated that spending several days yachting would create such a microcosm. We exchanged our usual daily routines on land for engaging with the elements, caring for the boat, and sharing conversations regarding our lives. While sailing, I observed the sea state, wind patterns, and rain far more acutely than I ever would on solid ground. I began to notice my surroundings mindfully while shedding concerns about schedules, social media, and shopping.
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