LJI "Inside Baseball" (feeling like a foreigner while sailing-unfamiliar language)
I’m ready to admit it. I am a fake.
I love to walk through a foreign city, like Oslo, Norway, and pretend to be a native. I wear the right clothes. I have the scarf, the boots, the jacket. I have the right face and body type to pass for Norwegian. I even know a fair number of the words. When I was twenty years old, I even had the right political sticker on my backpack. Good start.
But then someone begins to speak to me. I open my mouth, but nothing really happens. Yeah, sure, I crank out a few words. But then I expose myself for the foreigner that I really am. The words twist in my mouth. I say the wrong tenses. I quickly reach the point where I have no idea what they are talking about. They have exceeded my capabilities to understand Norwegian. And I hang my head with chagrin. I am a hopeless case, an inveterate American. I get back on the trolley car and go home to my friend's house to feel better by munching on Norwegian waffles or goat cheese. Mmmm.
Strangely, the same thing happens to me when I am on board a tallship. Though I am back in my native California, somehow the foreign feeling is still there. But I still try to fake it. I gaze upward with awe at the enormous canvas sails spread high into the blue, blue sky to catch the wind. I look with pleasure upon the plank deck as it gently curves downwards and then again back upwards to the bow eighty feet up ahead. Every wooden gizmo fills me with delight. This is the old way! And I’m here!
Photo of two hands furling the jibs on the jib boom at the end of the day. A sunset in peach and lavender backlights the action.
But I really don’t want to fall on my butt when a rogue wave knocks the ship unexpectedly. So to maintain my balance as we soar and dive over the ocean swells, I spread my stance. I ease my knees, soften my gait and keep a hand on the rail. I hope that the others on this voyage see me as just another capable sailor. But once again, I know I am a fake. The first challenge is learning the equipment. But more ominously, the words betray me.
“Scantilize the peak”
“Scantilize the throat!”
Would you have guessed that we are just lowering the sails?
“All hands aloft to furl!”
“All hands to mooring stations!”
Most landlubbers know the basic sailing terms. The first ones you will probably learn are the words for toilet and kitchen. That would be head and galley. So far, so good, right?
“Draw in Line Two through the haws. When it is well, flake it along the rail. When you are done, coil it down.”
What the?
There are some who claim that the language on board the ship is specially designed to confuse you and let you know that you aren’t really one of the In crowd. Even the words you know, you don’t really. For example, if you do something right, you say, “It is well.” If you do something wrong, you hope that you don't sink the ship or cause a mast to fall down on someone's head.
But the fact is that the world of sailing is a very specialized trade. Like other niche careers, it is rife with jargon. Complicating things further, it is the jargon of a bygone era.
I seriously think that learning Norwegian is probably easier.
I figure that in a couple years, I’ll have a bit of a start.
In the meantime, I guess I’ll keep faking it.
Carry on!
Two hands scramble up the ratlines to access the yards, where they will perch as they set sails. The scene shows the wide expanse of white canvas sail against the backdrop of a perfect blue sky in Puget Sound, Washington.
Goof ball pose of a friend flexing his muscles. I chose to share this photo because it shows off the deck to which I referred. You see the upward curve of the deck. Beyond Russell-he with the bulging muscles- you can see Chastain descending the ladder into the hold. On either side of her you can see the lines and shrouds which are either holding the mast in place or connect to the sails. The lines to the sails are adjusted as we set them to take advantage of the wind. Center background you see the galley where the meals are prepared.
A cheesy sort of photo, But here you see some of our motley crew as we sail the Pilgrim along the coast of California. Scene shows twelve members of our group lined up along the rail. Behind us you see the brilliant blue Pacific. On the horizon several miles distant are the cliffs of Laguna Beach. I am the one standing on the far right of the photo.
