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I watched through stinging spray as my fiberglass dinghy was swamped, turned into a sea anchor, and then quickly snapped its painter as my O’Day 31 surfed down 6-foot seas on Long Island Sound. It probably was unwise to be out on the water that day.
I hate this time of year. Some of my friends wax rhapsodic about crisp fall air, the changing of the leaves and the coming holidays. But all I can see at the end of October is the end of the sailing season and the long winter stretching out before me.
One reason I like sailing is that it is one of the few endeavors in which the concept of individual responsibility still has meaning. It is much easier to blame someone or something else for the consequences of your decisions than to admit any fault on your own part—it goes back as far as Eve and the serpent—but on a small boat you soon run out of things to point your finger at. 

Voice of Experience: Communication Breakdown

by Carl Hunt, Posted October 31, 2013
“What we have here is a failure to communicate.” This famous line from the classic movie Cool Hand Luke is also a phrase that neatly summarizes a bareboat charter my wife, Nancy, and I recently enjoyed with friends in Corsica.

5 Lessons My Kids Learned from Cruising

by Owen Caddy, Posted March 30, 2014
When I asked my daughter, Tamsyn, 10, what she and her brother, Griffyn, 7, had learned while sailing aboard Madrona, our Tayana 37, she cited some obvious things...
In the early 1990s, my husband, Monty, and I took early retirement, stepped aboard our Gulfstar 39, Salsa, and didn’t come back to our home in Marblehead, Massachusetts, for five years.
One of the best things about being retired is that it allows me to spend some quality time doing what I really like. One such escape—wife willing—is a month-long stay on my sailboat on San Francisco Bay.
“Send me an article on the essence of seamanship,” was the editor’s brief. I wonder what you would have included in this article if he had asked you. I can tell you, it isn’t easy.
They didn’t hoist the Jolly Roger or fire a shot across my bow, but their intentions were worrisome.
My dad came from a long line of sailors and seafarers, but he didn’t start boating himself until he was nearly 50. I was 12 years old when he bought a 14ft Rhodes Bantam. Together, with some trials and errors, we set about learning to sail it.
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