Karen Buhler Gale (pictured above) learned the hard way that the best way to avoid mistakes in sailing is to take things slowly.

Karen Buhler Gale (pictured above) learned the hard way that the best way to avoid mistakes in sailing is to take things slowly.



By the time I bought my first sailboat, I had read dozens of books on sailing. Mostly epics, often the solo circumnavigation, these dramatic reads did little to help me the first time I tried to dock my 27' Catalina at the Everett Public Marina. Making a crooked, dock-crunching landfall after a brief, clumsy sail, I finally understood why so many sailed around the world alone: no witnesses. A middle-aged woman with minimal (and I mean it) sailing experience, I looked with chagrin at the smirking, but largely tolerant mass of bystanders waiting for me to throw a line.

I threw it all right, but instead of a neat, coiled mass, the snarl thunked like a weapon against the birdlike breast of a wiry, Old Salt with a cocked eyebrow and baggy pants. He may have been partly to blame, (he had arms), but I understood then and there learning to sail was not going to be a private, invisible act. Sailor folk, boaties in general, like to watch. Thank goodness, they also love to help.

And the novice, beginner-dreaming-to-be-expert sailor, needs a lot of help. A lot of moral support. (A lot of money.) Gear, too. Twice a month, this column will reach out to those sailors who come after me. Those who are still standing on the dock dreaming, or those who are newly at the helm and wondering why someone, anyone, didn't talk them out of buying something without a gas or brake pedal.

In that spirit, I offer in this inaugural column what was the very best piece of advice that I ever received. This little nugget, while not highly technical, is instrumental in (the many) moments of doubt in helping avoid grievous error and emergent situations requiring a VHF mayday and a wooden bung. So, here it is: Go slowly. I can only hope this reached you in time.