Sailing with strangers

There is no better test of character than sailing with strangers. Friendships form just as quickly as tensions flare, and life on board, with its constant demands and cramped quarters, forces people to show who they really are. The weather and watch duties dissolve pretences, stripping away every trace of self‑grandeur and mystique. Over time, your true self becomes exposed, as clearly as polished steel.

Now, there are a few who come on board and what-you-see-is-what-you-get. Their affability and willingness to help is a steady state. They can be long-time sailors or recent converts. Regardless, they fit in seamlessly into the day-to-day.

The majority of people though go through a process of metamorphosis. They need a few days to strip away the busyness of their professional lives. They come on board with a kind of energy you can’t ignore. Some are fidgety, carrying problems from home. Others arrive flat-out exhausted and drained.

I’m not sure if it was because I was usually the only woman on board or simply the cook, but the fidgeters followed me around. They would talk in detail about all the goings‑on back on land. Each conversation was sprinkled with names I didn’t recognize. They described workplace dramas I barely cared about.

There was something quite mesmerizing about listening to someone talk about what was happening in their business world. The deeper their obsession, the more they assumed I knew and could relate to what they were talking about. These talks taught me how to stay in the moment. I learned to ask just enough to keep the story flowing, even when I barely grasped the subject. As someone who has worked with tech professionals in numerous industries, being able to ask good questions is a true talent for getting customers to open up about what their problems are.

When I listened to the fidgeters talking, their stories would naturally taper off as if they were shedding layers of themselves. Over time, they would eventually emerge from their cabin transformed, settled into the rhythm of watches, at ease with silence and ready to pull their weight.

Those who boarded the boat exhausted from the strains of business or personal life, were a bit trickier to handle. They usually put on a brave face the first day or two before they finally gave in to their fatigue.

Yet, there were signs of their state of mind right from the beginning. This manifested as inattentiveness, sluggishness, or staring off into the distance when someone else was speaking. So, when they started sleeping a lot or showing up late for watches, still looking tired, it was plain to everyone that the person was not doing well.

Dave’s way of coping with this was not to speak about the problem. Instead, he came to the cockpit early for night watches so the person presently on watch could go off, and the one suffering from fatigue could be late without it being a big deal. Dave also tended to keep the person company during their watch. Not that it was too noticeable, but he’d come with a book, saying he couldn’t sleep, and just be there for a while. It was remarkable how this type of quiet support, as well as the friendly banter that happened throughout the day, worked its wonders on them.

My role was to cook them good meals. Sleep and good food are the best medicine. I’d also ask that person to help me quite often as sous chef. They would cut vegetables and wash dishes. Some did this in silence, which was fine. Some slowly opened up and told me what was on their minds.

I learnt a lot about human nature during these conversations. First and foremost, it is possible to keep secrets on a boat. Confidentiality is vital, regardless of how confining the space or how close-knit the crew.

The second thing I learnt is not to shy away from asking the important personal questions. If someone trusted me enough to share with me what was burdening them, I had to help them put into words all the thoughts that were whirling around in their head. A good question has the power to let them speak about things they have been afraid to even tell themselves. Usually, once they hear themselves speak the words out loud, they are able to free themselves from the bad thoughts.

So, this is the end of this post, except for one thing. In my experience, people are intrinsically good, each with their own foibles, but mostly respectful and well-mannered. Yet I do not want to leave you with the impression that everyone who came to crew on the boat left a truer version of themselves. Certainly, I think that being on a boat and working and living in close quarters with others is a bonding experience. Still, some came on board as idiots, who were basically useless as crew, and then left blithely unaware of how difficult they had made life for the others.

But this post isn’t about them.