Sailors claim—with chests puffed out and looks on their faces that decry “We’re thinking green, so don’t step on my handmade, Italian sandals”—that sailing is pure and natural, that sailing captures the quintessential water experience.

Sailors claim—with a bit of a sneer and look down their noses—that sailing is better for the environment and a more sensible way to move from point A to point B.

I claim—in all humility and earnest concern—that such claims hold exactly enough water to wash a hog with. Take a good look around next time you’re out on the Bay. You know what you’ll see: sailboats creeping along on diesel power. If you ask me—and I would be the first person I’d ask if I were looking for a valid, well-meant opinion—sailboats are nothing more than a powerboat with a stick in the middle. They may have an auxiliary mode of power, but it’s the wind that’s auxiliary, not their diesel engines. If point A and point B are only a hull’s length apart, you’ll get there in good time; if they’re farther apart than you can throw a rockfish, plan for an overnight stay on the hook.

I claim—with honesty and sincerity foremost in my mind—that most sailors enjoy moving so slowly because they don’t have anyplace to go. It’s like the oft repeated dialog between a mother and her son:

“Where are you going?”

“Out.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Nothing.”

I don’t know about anyone else, but I have better things to do with my time than “nothing.”

The Power Squadron branch I belonged to—they call themselves “squadrons,” which never made much sense to me. I mean, why would you repeat nouns: “I belong to a Power Squadron squadron!” Come on, if you want echoes go to a canyon—has just completed its annual cruise. I use the word “cruise” with a smirk. Their “cruise” covered about as much of the Bay as I’d cover on a sunny day when I was intent on conserving fuel. If Osprey Point to Annapolis to Baltimore to Kent Narrows to Fairlee Creek is a cruise, then a stroll in the mall must be a trek. Guess which type of boater is running the Power Squadron squadron—sounds silly, doesn’t it? If you guessed sailors, give yourself an extra half hour of cruising. If you’re a sailor, you can use that half hour to get out of your slip; if you’re a power-boater, have a nice afternoon in Annapolis.

Contact Dick at: This e-mail address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it