A Lesson from Sailing to Sales

Navigate a clear course….. but first decide whether you should leave port at all.

Sailors and salesmen have a couple of things in common. I know, I am both.

Some commonalities are decidedly positive: we are adventurous, we are optimistic, we are pragmatic and those who sail regattas (I do) are competitive. But in the wake of “optimistic” comes what is a bit irritating to some: we tend to exaggerate…..  Sometimes….. A little bit…. Ever so slightly…..  But still.

So when I say in the story that I am about to relay to you, that a gale was blowing, it was really only force 7. When I write we were facing waves as high as houses, I mean only two stories high. When I say we were surfing the waves like an Americas Cupper, we really did just over 9 knots. But still.

So here is the story about navigation and deciding whether to leave port at all.

A couple of years ago I decided to trade up from a smallish, rather old (but solid, German built) boat of some 25ft to a larger, newer and seagoing yacht. Same yard, but bigger, faster, more spacious. And just as solid.

As it was seagoing, I was keen to take it out on an offshore race so I gathered a crew of 3 and enrolled in a small fun-type race called the “Cheeseboard-race”. The idea was that we would leave on Thursday to sail in cruising mode from the Dutch port of Stellendam in a straight line west across the North Sea to the River Orwell and to Pin Mill, have a pint in the famous Butt & Oyster, get a night’s sleep and return the next day in racing mode back from Pin Mill to Stellendam. Who would sail first past the SG1 marker near Stellendam would be the winner. A very attractive concept for my first offshore race.

There we were at the jetty in Stellendam for the skippers briefing. We did hear the weather forecast and yes, it was already quite a fresh breeze and no, things were not going to improve. Stormy weather. Westerly wind, straight on the head. Heavy rain. But I was determined. I now had a seagoing boat, I wanted to race and I had enrolled. And I was prepared. More or less. Plenty food on board. Foul weather clothing. A boat in good shape.

During the skippers’ meeting, a couple of boats decided to back out. Forecasted conditions too rough. Why take the risk. Uncomfortable. They were not going to cross. One boat decided even to stay on the inner side of the locks.

Having associated myself with the bravehearts, we set off. One reef in the main, but even that did not make the ride to the outer marker comfortable. And once past the outer marker, out on the open sea, the waves also started to hit us, making life on board rather miserable. Second reef in the main. Furling the jib to the second mark. No improvement in the stiffening wind and ever steeper waves. Two out of three now seasick. Please don't make me admit who they were. Moreover, the difference between us and the big boys became apparent: with our shallow keel of only 1.25m we could not nearly point as high as some of the other boats with their 2-meter draft.

We had chosen a south-westerly course for the first leg with the intention to tack to the north-west once we would hit the shipping lanes. But before we got there, the wind increased to storm and although my boat kept a very admirable speed in these conditions, 7 knots as an average, we were not getting anywhere near our intended tacking point. Worse: as we drifted further south, we came close to one of the many wind parks under construction and the patrol boats protecting the site forced us to pass the site on the south. By the time we hit the shipping lanes and we tacked, there was a full gale blowing and we were facing waves as high a houses. We were surfing off these waves with the speeds of an Americas Cupper.

Once tacked, our navigator checked our position and plotted our potential new course. He came back on deck with a grim look on his face. “We are not going to make it to the Orwell” was his devastating message. “We would need to tack so often and we drifted so far south that there is no point in trying” he said. “But then we cannot even race the return leg” I cried over the howling wind. “Right you are”, cried the navigator back, “but that does not matter anymore: our only concern is to find a safe way to ANY port!”

Indeed. We had lost even before we started.

After beating into the wind for 18 hours.

And that is the lesson I learned there. 1 on 1 transposable from Sailing to Sales.

Choose the right race. If you want to pursue an opportunity, make sure it is one that fits your capabilities. Make sure you have a real chance to win.

And if you do decide to pursue, keep track of your progress. Don’t navigate just on your senses, but sail on a clearly plotted course. And tack in time.

p.s. thanks to our navigator’s experience, we made it to Ramsgate, far south of where we were originally heading. After cleaning the boat and sleeping a few hours, we enjoyed a great meal in French restaurant Bon Appetit, beating the planned pub meal hands down. This trip was not all bad news.