The Art of Chaotic Sailing

When you hoist the sails on schedule – you’ll be becalmed, you bet!

One might wonder what exactly makes up the fundamental difference between sailing and running around in a powerboat. Maybe everybody understands intuitively, but nevertheless, it is a theme worth some reflections (i.e. making a mess out of what was at first clear). My first thought is that both steering a sailboat and a powerboat is related to thermodynamics in some way or the other. The powerboat is dependent on burning it's fuel, whereas the sailboat is driven forward by the energy in the wind.

In case of the powerboat, the internal-combustion engine makes it possible to depart and arrive on schedule; the boat is capable of running from one place to another relatively independent of weather conditions. And this was exactly why the great sailing vessels were outmaneuvered by steam at the end of the 19th century. In the new industrialised world, with expanding need for transportation and communication, the sail couldn’t meet the demand. I won’t expand on this. It suffices to say that the transition from sail to engine was connected to a new economic and social structure, deep down to a new philosophy and way of life in what has been called the epoch of thermodynamics.

What came with modernity was a more instrumental attitude, more focused on exploitation and control of the environment trough science and technology. Although much has changed since the 19th century, this is still the world we live in to the greatest extent. We are in the same old rut, and only our well-deserved spare time might provide some relief, dependent on how we use it. This is where the difference between sailing and motor boating becomes relevant. In the motorboat you are still steering and thinking within a sphere of modern technology aimed primarily at environment-control. If you choose to sail, but nevertheless maintain this attitude, you’ll son experience some calamities. You’ll end up trying to work against the laws of nature instead of making the most of it. Headwind will be on you – at least it seems so – wherever you are heading. When you hoist the sails on schedule – you’ll be becalmed, you bet! The elemental forces seems to work against you – letting your Penelope wait in vain though you promised her to be home from Troy before supper.

In a sailboat you’ll be better off adopting a more flexible attitude, more in accordance with the complexity of the chaotic meteorological system that you are so dependent on. Of course you’ll often need some sort of itinerary, but it could be a rather loose one. As a consequence, you’ll have to take your time, leaving the strict schedule behind; otherwise – in spite of modern weather forecast – you’ll get a daily ear-splitting massage from your engine.

Chaotic sailing. The crew waiting for the butterfly to flap its wings.

How then, should a philosophy of flexible sailing be executed? At least my personal recommendation is to sail on a broad reach or a beam reach, and to seize the opportunity when the wind is fair. Tomorrow evening you’ll probably end up anchoring, but in another bay than the one you imagined yesterday. So what? Just this anchorage might turn out to be your bay of bliss. If not, there is always another chance – that is if you still have another week off. The secret is not to work against Aeolus – the ruler of the winds. So when you open the hatch at 5 o’clock in the morning, please listen to the land-wind whispering: Sailor girl, sailor boy, hoist your sails – your breakfast (or whatever lust you might have this morning) can always wait. If your plan is to follow the fairway and do an impressive distance run, this obvious won’t work very well. On the other hand, if your port of destination is not that important, you’ll soon be confident in criss-crossing the archipelago in ways that make even a well-known anchorage into a brand new experience. Few waters fit this way of sailing better than the Norwegian skerries with its complicated web of islands, sounds and open-ended fjords.

This concept of sailing might sound like a premodern attitude, but is – I think – not far from the opposite. It reminds me of what is called, in probability theory, a stochastic or random process. More then when steering a powerboat, your open-ended sailing will be in accordance with the mysterious forces of nature surrounding you, the wind and currents, pulling your boat trough the water but also causing it’s drift. Inevitably these elemental forces – being chaotic in the scientific meaning of the word –, will soon enough give your sailing holiday a taint of chaos, but does it really matter that much? At least in some respect you might let chaos rule without damaging effect to speak of, although you may get some difficulties telling your old auntie what your position will be the day to come. Often chaos rules whether you like it or not, and whether you understand it or not. My own “scientific” understanding is like this: If a butterfly flaps on my wife’s bum early in the morning, we’ll end up sailing west towards the island Kvitsøy. If I am too sleepy to flap like the butterfly, we’ll end up in Jelsa or some distant fjord. Now, at least my wife will surely recognise the complicated laws, governing nature – and maybe, what do I know – most of our butterfly-flapping life. Is there at least a pattern or a structure, something to hang onto, at least on a larger scale? To be honest I don’t know. And I haven’t even bothered to scrutinize the pencil-lines drawn, for some long forgotten reasons, in my sea charts.
We had a great time though, flapping around.