Where's the Mark?

Years ago, I was competing double-handed on a 28-foot boat, with the boat's owner driving. We had a fabulous start during a summer race and were first around the windward mark, tacking directly into one of the thickest fog banks I have seen.

We were sailing across The Slot from Yellow Bluff to Blackaller, in the typical crosscurrent that runs under the Golden Gate. It is a leg of about 1.5 nautical miles. We didn’t have radar or a chartplotter onboard, and it was before the days when we had navigation apps on our phones. The visibility was less than two boat lengths, which made the prospect of even seeing the mark unlikely if our direction wasn’t spot-on. We were in the fog, relying on a compass, skill, and luck.

To me, this describes much of life: sailing in fog toward an uncertain mark, in an uncertain direction, with an uncertain distance to go, while uncertain forces push you sideways. You have to get comfortable with the discomfort; enjoy the adventure. But we weren’t completely without direction. We had the compass, knew how fast we were going, could estimate the tidal flow, and got clues from the wind and the waves.

What is notable about direction is how the most minute error can multiply with time, speed, and distance. A one-degree course deviation, if sustained from San Francisco to Hawaii, can take you 40 miles from your target. For our trip across The Slot, that large an error would miss the mark by 100 feet, which could easily be outside of the mark’s visible range.

Course adjustments are needed, even over shorter distances and periods of time. That’s why our boats have rudders, wheels, and tillers, and why organizations have meetings and steering committees.

If you do not change direction, you may end up where you are heading. — Lao Tzu

What is also noteworthy about direction is how long, without proper references, we can go the wrong way without knowing it. We can be dramatically off course and not know it for a very long time. If you have ever motored a boat in thick fog and calm conditions, you know what I am talking about. Without a compass or some other reference, you can easily head for the rocks, or just go in circles.

Our boat’s owner confidently held the helm, steering by compass, wind, and instinct, while I trimmed the jib and kept a sharp lookout. Right when it seemed like we must have passed the mark, there it loomed off our port bow, exactly where it was supposed to be. A combination of skill and luck had won the day, leaving us with a great memory and story.