Self-Sufficiently
While in Miami this year for the show and TrawlerPort, hometown Annapolis got clobbered with a couple of feet of snow. This came on top of existing snow already making the boating capital a winter wonderland.
For a change in pace I drove down to Florida this year. This turned out to be great fortune as we were able to return with a carload of PMM staffers when flights were cancelled. Like Grapes of Wrath, we strapped luggage on the roof and the bunch of us were nice and cozy for the two-day trip.
Driving north Laurene arranged for a local landscaper to plow out our home in time for our arrival. With a long winding driveway covered by drifting snow, it would be hard to make this landfall without help.
Wouldn’t you know, when we got home several days later, the property was untouched by plow or shovel. Forced to leave the car in the road, I walked in deck shoes through deep snow the several hundred feet to our house. It made me mad, but only briefly, as I soon learned we had no heat in the house, which at the time seemed worse.
Several days passed before it all got back to normal, and I’m thankful we were luckier than others in that blizzard. But it bothered me that we’d made the mistake of relying on others to take care of us. It is something I rarely do on a boat, and I’m not likely to repeat this episode or rely on that firm again. (A small tractor with plow is in my future and I’ve also learned a lot about heat pump operation and maintenance.) It was another unfortunate reminder that disappointment usually awaits those who expect salvation from others, even when paid handsomely, and that’s a lesson I keep learning. But to paraphrase Joseph Campbell, such disappointments are the instruments of my destiny.
Years ago, when Laurene and I first got married, we had a situation with the local hotel we’d chosen for our reception. Despite reservations, the management gave our facility slot to a larger wedding party. They would make more money–nothing personal, just business. After the initial furious reaction, Laurene and I countered by taking a self-reliant path. The two of us put together our own reception. We booked a historic home nearby, arranged for the food, flowers and music, and then hosted the event ourselves. Heck, I even baked and decorated our wedding cake, complete with dolphins jumping out of a sea of buttery maple frosting. Damn fine experience it was, and set the stage for our continued life experience of self-sufficiency.
My favorite boatbuilder fondly recalls the time he delivered a sailboat in 1977, coincidentally stopping in New York just in time for that city’s infamous blackout. He told me how satisfying it was to finally make it back to the boat after walking around the nonfunctioning city, then switch on the boat’s lights, with plenty of running water, all systems perfectly operational.
That is precisely how we should be on our trawlers, hugely self-sufficient. Knowing how to locate what’s wrong, having the parts, tools and training to fix what’s broken, and keeping the boat shipshape.
To be candid, when taken to extremes, self-reliance can make someone decidedly antisocial and more than a little paranoid. So I tend to think of it as a pursuit for self-sufficiently: just enough for the situation, but not at the expense of blocking out others or putting up walls. Moderation is a good thing.
Most people feel more alive when they step to the front of the line, instead of engaging someone else to handle the problems. It just feels right…at risk but in control.
Speaking of feeling right, we’ve got a great issue for you. In addition to a new refined look with design elements to make the magazine easier to read, we bring you a masterful blend of technical articles, informative experience stories and a literary tour de force about one of the world’s greatest sea stories.
Great stuff!
Bill Palatore
Editor-In-Chief