Northwest Boat Travel is pleased to present Warren Miller, a man of many talents. A world famous sailor, skiier, filmmaker, and syndicated columnist featured in many newspapers around the country....he is an avid boater with many stories to tell...

Editor's Note: An expanding collection of Warren's columns will be featured on Northwest Boat Travel On-Line Member Magazine. The following first appeared in our NBT magazine.

INTRODUCTION

Click here to view biography at his website.

As the 48-foot Grand Banks eased into the Marina, standing on the bow was a gray-haired woman who had to be almost 60 years old. She had to kneel down each time to pick up one of the four-foot-long fenders and then laboriously lift them over and tie them to the railing in preparation for docking. While she was doing all of this deck-hand work and getting the four docking lines ready, her husband of nearly 40 years was just standing on the bridge, hollering at her like a Boatswain's mate on a square-rigged clipper ship to “Hurry Up,” because ‘he’ was ready. I was two docks away and couldn’t help her with her lines, but I could sure hear him. When Captain Bligh got the boat close enough to the dock, his wife was able to sit down on the deck of their boat and stretch her feet to the dock. From that position she was able to stand up and hurry forward and tie up the bow, then the stern, and finally rig and take a strain on the two spring-lines. While she was doing all of this stevedore stuff, her husband was just standing on the bridge. He might be excused, though, because at the same time he was hollering, he had to move the throttles about a quarter-of-an-inch and the port engine gear shift almost six inches from forward to reverse. Except for this docking, he had to shift gears twice. But he did have the added mental strain and physical exertion of turning on the blower, turning off the engines, shutting down the radar, the GPS, and the depth sounder.

Once this was all done, he went below and mixed a drink while his wife gathered up the dirty laundry and hauled it 900 feet down the dock to the washing machines. Then she came back and started dinner while the captain mixed his third drink and chatted with the other men on the dock who had docked their boats in the same manner.

Three years ago, when we finally took delivery of our 42 foot sport fisherman, I was well aware that someday I might fall overboard, so I had made up my mind that I wanted my wife to learn how to drive our boat with or without me. After racing small one-design sailboats for 20 years, it took me a while to get used to a 30,000 pound, 40-foot-long boat with two engines. As soon as I learned how, I decided it was time to start teaching my wife. She turned out to be a better pupil than I was an instructor, but we somehow got through it without a lot of shattered egos. As I write this, we are midway through our second summer of cruising and she probably has a couple of hundred dockings behind her in all kinds of current, wind, and water conditions.

Only once have I had to grab the throttles and wheel from her in an emergency that she didn’t see coming. In Ketchikan, Alaska, the wind was blowing its usual summer afternoon 20 mph, at 45 degrees on our port bow, shoving our starboard side against the fuel dock. There was also a strong three-knot current on our bow. To make matters worse, the wake of the constant back-and-forth boat traffic was bouncing us up against the dock. There was also a large Coast Guard cutter tied directly behind us. I explained to Laurie that we had to get our stern away from the dock so we could slide by the stern of the Coast Guard cutter. To do this, I would leave the bow tied to the dock while she backed the starboard engine and went ahead with the port. When the transom was far enough away from the dock, I would release the bow line and jump aboard and she would have to jam the throttles up to about 1,500 rpm’s to not be carried back against the cutter in the three knot current. If we could do all of that quickly, we wouldn’t interrupt the two sailors on the back of it that were salmon fishing. I talked her through the maneuver three or four times and then said, “Let’s go for it.” Laurie worked the stern far enough out, so that when she jammed both throttles up to the rpm’s as I told her to, we would be clear of everything. As I released the bow-line, which was now under great strain, I scrambled aboard but, for whatever reason, she froze and didn’t increase the rpm’s enough. Rather than stand on our deck and try to keep an inflatable fender between our 30,000-pound boat and the Coast Guard cutter, I scrambled up to the flying bridge, kicked the port engine into reverse, and jammed both throttles up to 1800 rpm’s. This was just after I heard one of the sailors holler, “Fish on!” His fishing reel was screaming, but I knew that it would be better to get his monofilament line in one of my props than the sharp edge of a Coast Guard cutter putting a big hole in the side of our new boat. We missed their transom by at least four inches. We didn’t stick around for him to bring in the salmon, but it was the only time in a 2500 mile, seven-week trip, that Laurie didn’t deliver the boat to or from the dock as well as I could have done under the same set of circumstances.

I think it’s too difficult for her physically to handle our five, four-foot long fenders and our four, one-inch dock lines as easily as I can, but she sure can move throttles and gear shifts easily. During our cruising time the most frequent words we hear when we are finally tied up to the dock? “You let a skirt drive your boat?” “How come your husband lets you drive the boat?” “Who’s going to drive in an emergency?” That’s why I let her drive. Because if I ever fall overboard, that’s an emergency, and I want her to know how to come back and get me. Now I get to spend the rest of my life wondering if she will come back and get me.

Copyright 6/20/98