Lessons Learned
But for us on this trip—despite the awesome food and the placid scenery, the eighteen-hole championship golf course and the par three, the bicycles available to explore local back roads, the Egyptian-cotton linens and the flat-screen TVs, the antiques stores in nearby Irvington and Kilmarnock, and the top-drawer local striper and bluefish fishing—Arabella is right: Getting out and sailing remains the point. And while the quiet pleasures of sailing are certainly part of the experience, a Premier Sailing School visit is nothing if not active.

From the moment James and I stepped aboard our floating classroom—the 30-foot Apollyon, a name that means Destroyer (not a shabby handle for a sleek racing boat)—the learning came fast and furious. And James wasn’t the only one taking on new skills. While I’ve been sailing since childhood, the mastery Arabella displayed meant I was getting a knowledge upgrade, too.

Our learning began at the get-go. “Well, James,” Arabella said as we began to untie from the dock, “why don’t you take us out?”

He looked at her…shocked.

“No, it’s okay. The best way to learn is to start.”

As we headed for the larger waters of the bay, Arabella moved from the basics—how the tiller worked, how to rig the mainsail and jib, how to coil and stow lines—to more sophisticated lessons. Before long, using winches and handles was second nature, as were sailing reaches up and across the bay and hauling close. Arabella also pointed out that running and steering a boat required a captain to involve his vessel in the conversation. “The boat, it doesn’t know you want to change direction,” she said. “Think about the boat and how it moves. It won’t react as quickly as you can. Work with that.”

Soon, we were tacking to turn upwind and jibing to turn downwind. As the wind blew stronger with the afternoon’s rising temperature, Arabella showed James how to reduce or “reef” sail, keeping the boat moving at its most efficient speed. Soon, James was managing lines and steering his way in the world on a 30-foot keeled racing boat, saying things like “Prepare to come about…coming about now,” with no self-consciousness—as if he’d been doing it all his life.

In a short time, James had become comfortable as captain. Not bad for a sixteen-year-old who, days earlier, hadn’t known a halyard from a spar or a d-shackle.

By late in the day, after we’d sailed back to the Tides Inn—dropping the mainsail and getting it under cover; folding and stowing the jib in its sail bag—James was a different kid.

“You know, Dad,” he said that night as we sat down for dinner, “I think we should try and figure out how to keep a boat in the water down here.” After watching the change come across my son at sailing school, it seemed like a fine idea.

For reservations and information, visit tidesinn.com; or call 800-843-3746.