It was, for many of us taking our first steps in sailing, the price to pay if we wanted to earn the right to peek overboard, act as a counterweight, or be assigned the responsibility of tending a jib sheet. Different dinghies would carry tin or plastic containers, and the novice sailor’s duty was to collect the bilge water and throw it outside. The scooping was done by rubbing the bailers opening against the keel, which due to the constant friction kept the area in bare wood, no matter the layers of paint applied.
Down there in the bilge, a parallel world was happening. It was a world of noises – the water against the hull, the snapping of ropes in and out of the cleats, and short, sharp shouts to the bailing crew. All of this an opportunity to forge the first steps in becoming a real crew member. I remember two boats where I ran such duty: a Lightning, an open dinghy 5,95m of USA design, and a Dragon, for me one of the most elegant designs of all times. The big difference with the dragon apart from the 9m LOA, is that she has a keel – no centreboard box in the middle. A higher freeboard made a better resonance box and the water noises sounded like thunder, surrounding the cockpit box where the helmsman and the crew danced their magic with ropes, weight shift and the genoa sheet bronze winches with the under-deck handles.
This story tells the emotional part of starting sailing, a practice that is disappearing. With more efficient building techniques using very light and strong materials, the improvements to the performance of modern craft have reached levels unimaginable 20 years ago. Today, you could find in any EU boat an instruction book to learn to sail, in 14 languages. But you can always tell when someone has been through the basics, no matter what position the person now holds in the industry. Norwegians, for instance, grow up through the nautical business often starting with clinker-built rowing or sailing boats. They also have the history and the culture in their blood. Most of Northern Europe shares nautical history and tradition, but the tendency is fading when we go South towards the Med. Norway has a recreational boat for every 7 inhabitants – the figure for the UK is 55, and for Spain 135!
I had a similar emotional experience a few months ago at the Guggenheim Museum in Bilbao. There was a car and mobility exhibition called Motion, curated by Sir Norman Foster. The cars exhibited were built from very early 1900 to this day. Some of the cars of the ‘50s and the ’60s triggered my admiration. Why? Because I remember seeing some of them on the street, admiring them in magazines and movies (like the Aston Martin DB5 James Bond drove in Goldfinger, an E Type Jaguar, or a more mundane Ford Mustang 68 with Anouk Aimee enjoying a ride on a beach in “A Man and a Woman”). All of these became icons and dreams that would stay forever unachievable, yet fully enjoyable. They are class and tradition, and they define an epoch and a way of living. Life takes us through unique experiences, but we don’t always immediately see them as such. Time must bring up the treasure from within them and present it to us for our full enjoyment, which leaves its impression forever with us.
It is the same with some of the boats during your early yachting times. It is easy to recognise an authentic nautical experience: you hear the person; you recognise the body language, and you witness those smiles across the whole face. You communicate with a language behind the language and feel immediately comfortable with it. Your yachting roots are those of a boy being invited to bail the bilges – that is part of your personality, a whole definition of old-fashion yachting tradition.