Recently I came across a post by an English guy on one of the sailing forums asking if any sailors would trade in their present partner if they found one who was a better sailor.
What a cheek! Once I got over the urge to find this male chauvinist and scuttle his boat, I felt I ought to stand up for women cruisers everywhere. Most of us have left a comfortable home, family and friends to travel the world with our partner in - let's face it - not the quickest and most comfortable way there is.
We may not all be like Ellen Macarthur, but we don't cower in the corner when the boat heels, we don't moan when the weather stops us going where we want to go, we cook hearty meals in rough seas without throwing up, we wear the same clothes for days on end and skimp on showers to save water. Generally we cope pretty well, I think.
The trouble is, sailing is inherently hierarchical. There's a skipper who takes charge and a mate who takes orders. That wasn't a problem in the old days - the skipper would always be the bloke. In this post-feminist age, nine times out of ten, it is still the bloke. What's going on?
Even if we've had successful careers ashore, we women are happy to stick with the domestic stuff and leave anything stressful like berthing or reefing to our partner. Partly out of lack of confidence and physical strength, partly to avoid getting shouted at. One of the most common off-putting experiences for women is seeing one's partner/husband turn into a red-faced, bullying Captain Bligh figure. There are still plenty of them about.
I asked some cruising friends for their thoughts. 'I have become a domestic goddess,' observes Anne, who used to hold a high-powered job in education. Round the world cruiser Julia plays down her role by saying, 'I am not a sailor. I love a sailor.' A number of women told me, 'I'm in charge ashore, but I defer to my husband while we're at sea.'
How does it work for us? We have no secret formula. We joke that Leighton's the skipper, but I'm the admiral. To be honest, we muddle along trusting in each other's ability, although we've been known to lose it and shout at each other from time to time. Leighton keeps the engine running and fixes things that break. He climbs to the top of the mast. He pulls up the anchor and hoists the sails. If it gets rough or windy, he takes over so I can go below. I do the navigation, canvas work, washing, cleaning, painting, varnishing. We both do the shopping and take it in turns to cook. We both do our fair share of sailing the boat with the rule that whoever's hand is on the tiller is the skipper.
Leighton will give his take on how we work together in another blogpost!!
What a cheek! Once I got over the urge to find this male chauvinist and scuttle his boat, I felt I ought to stand up for women cruisers everywhere. Most of us have left a comfortable home, family and friends to travel the world with our partner in - let's face it - not the quickest and most comfortable way there is.
We may not all be like Ellen Macarthur, but we don't cower in the corner when the boat heels, we don't moan when the weather stops us going where we want to go, we cook hearty meals in rough seas without throwing up, we wear the same clothes for days on end and skimp on showers to save water. Generally we cope pretty well, I think.
The trouble is, sailing is inherently hierarchical. There's a skipper who takes charge and a mate who takes orders. That wasn't a problem in the old days - the skipper would always be the bloke. In this post-feminist age, nine times out of ten, it is still the bloke. What's going on?
Even if we've had successful careers ashore, we women are happy to stick with the domestic stuff and leave anything stressful like berthing or reefing to our partner. Partly out of lack of confidence and physical strength, partly to avoid getting shouted at. One of the most common off-putting experiences for women is seeing one's partner/husband turn into a red-faced, bullying Captain Bligh figure. There are still plenty of them about.
I asked some cruising friends for their thoughts. 'I have become a domestic goddess,' observes Anne, who used to hold a high-powered job in education. Round the world cruiser Julia plays down her role by saying, 'I am not a sailor. I love a sailor.' A number of women told me, 'I'm in charge ashore, but I defer to my husband while we're at sea.'
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| A woman's work is never done....... |
How does it work for us? We have no secret formula. We joke that Leighton's the skipper, but I'm the admiral. To be honest, we muddle along trusting in each other's ability, although we've been known to lose it and shout at each other from time to time. Leighton keeps the engine running and fixes things that break. He climbs to the top of the mast. He pulls up the anchor and hoists the sails. If it gets rough or windy, he takes over so I can go below. I do the navigation, canvas work, washing, cleaning, painting, varnishing. We both do the shopping and take it in turns to cook. We both do our fair share of sailing the boat with the rule that whoever's hand is on the tiller is the skipper.
Leighton will give his take on how we work together in another blogpost!!
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