Nights at Sea #3 Stress is a part of It

22^nd of March 2022, Java Sea on Passage from Komodo to Lombok, SV Black Duck

Recently we had a challenging night at sea, which got me thinking hard about something I had been wondering a little about for a while: What is it about this stressful life at sea that keeps me so rapt?

The end of my rapture

Today, we had a moment of perfect wind. The sails filled, the boat heeled nicely, and took off, pushing the opposing current at a satisfying pace. I felt ecstatic. Good wind should not be taken for granted when sailing low latitudes.

I thought, this deserves music, and put on something classical to get the feeling soaring.
It is an invigorating sensation to stand at the helm, skippering a duck through this magnificent sea, orchestra building, water rushing past, wind in the hair, drums, violins, bass, picking of guitar strings. “We are sailing, we are sailing!” Music makes moments like theater louder, lustier, and more dramatic.

But nothing lasts forever, not pain, not pleasure, and definitely not wind near the equator.

The end of my rapture came in the shape of a grey front in the sky ahead, approaching like a pack of wolves with windy teeth. And a moment later, the flag stood stiff in the wind, and the ropes wrapped tight around the winches.

We have learned to reef in time; we learned the hard way, the green patches on the headsail are testimony to that. And this time, we were ready when the storm came upon us.

But ready or not, the wind did not blow to our advantage, and when it appeared that we were going backward, we turned on the engine, determined to get to Lombok, which was only a day away.

A little change in Sound

It was around nightfall, and I went down in the galley to boil potatoes.

Those of you who are not sailors won’t know this, but when living and sailing on a boat, you become extremely attuned to detecting any changes in sounds, any unusual vibrations, rattling, creaking, flapping, or chafing. Your hearing is a vital sense that can spare you many disasters. This is an example: when in the galley, I suddenly heard a sound. It was a single ‘click’ or ‘snap’ not loud but enough to catch my attention.

            “Did you hear that?”
            “What?”
            “That sound”

Soon after, Riley noticed that no water was coming from the exhaust. I immediately reached for the red cord and pulled. The engine stopped. And then we went searching for the source of that sound, as if it was a bomb needing to be dismantled.

In the meantime, the squall blew over and when the wind died out again, the sea was left disturbed and rolled the boat from side to side, with no pressure in the sails to keep her steady.

I think there are three major stressors in a situation like this: First, when you know something is wrong, but you don’t yet know what it is. Second, when you find the issue, and you do not yet know if you can fix it and, if you can, if it will be in time. And third, when you realize that there is no other option than to fix it and to fix it in time. And it was with that in our minds that we hove to and went to work on our broken heat exchanger.

Six hours later, we had drifted 9 nautical miles off course in the middle of the busy shipping lane, but by some miracle coincidence and a little skill, we had found the means to fix the heat exchanger, at least enough to turn on the engine and motor the 25 nautical miles to the nearest harbor. A harbor which we were very amused to find out was called Badas.

We arrived in Badas the next morning, after a night with only two hours of sleep and fear that had turned to cheer and dissuasion to encouragement, as it does when challenges are vanquished.

Stress is a normal part of sailing, and either it will command you, or you will learn to command it. For I do not think there is any such thing as a stress-free adventure, definitely not at sea.

You can eliminate stress from your boat life by never leaving the dock. But even then, you might lose your boat and all sense of accomplishment. So I think it better to ask yourself, ‘am I as seaworthy as my boat?’

A good kind of Stress

It was in the wake of this most nerve-wracking incident that I found myself reading about stress. I had long been thinking that we Sailors might have chosen a life more stressful than had we been land-based and that stress, at least at sea, perhaps is completely inescapable.

I make no claim that life is harder for a sailor than it is for anyone else; in fact, I think it can be simpler in some ways. Yet, living at sea does come with certain risks and concerns, such as staying afloat, staying onboard, and always keeping an eye on the weather, just to mention a few.

When reading about stress, I learned that the term stress was devised by the Hungarian/Canadian Endocrinologist Hans Selye as recently as 1936. Of course, this was not the invention of biological stress, but the first time we could put words to the feeling.

Selye first defined stress as a “nonspecific response of the body to any demand.” However, the definition quickly changed to what we know today, which is mostly perceived as negative.

But what I was surprised to discover was that Selye originally described two different kinds of stress: one he called Distress, the negative form of stress, and the other Eustress(eu is the Greek prefix for ‘good’), a positive stress that, for some reason, hasn’t reached the same recognition in our language and, in the case of my hardcopy dictionary, has not even earned a place.

I thought this was quite the finding: If there really is such a thing as a good way of being stressed, then maybe it meant that I could learn how to be eustressed rather than distressed?

Reading on, I learned that Selye believed that our reaction to a stressor, relied on our perception of that stressor. Either we could perceive it as a threat, in which case we would likely react to it with distress, feeling anxious, inadequate, and perhaps unable to cope. Or we could perceive a challenge that Eustress might motivate us to face and solve.

This, of course, is entirely connected to the phenomenon we so famously know as ‘the fight-or-flight response’.

Selye also observed that the feeling of thrill we get from doing thrilling things, such as jumping from something high or racing across the water, is a kind of stress, but one that invigorates us—one that makes us feel alive.

Facing our challenges

But are we not always told that stress is bad? Do not all the self-help books, Master Classes, and teachers of mindfulness claim that they can show us the path to a stress-free life? I think about this, and I think about our life on the boat, and I wonder how this could ever be.

And I wonder, what is a life without stress if not dull and predictable, empty and meaningless?

Bernard Moitessier wrote in his account of the first Golden Globe Race: “I hate storms, but calms undermine my spirits.” How perfect might it be if the weather always blows right? But this is not the case and never will be.

What if stress, to some degree, is a natural condition and maybe even a prerequisite to a life that is more than ordinary, something that cannot be eliminated but can be managed with practice and resilience?

When we have faced a challenge once, it equips us to face it again, and each time we face it, we will be more confident until we one day feel entirely capable.

Mindfulness, meditation, deep breathing, and healing might all be helpful tools. It might, even on a boat, ground us momentarily or help us long term to relax, but the only true remedy to our insecurities at sea is practicing our competence for it.

From pitiable to a little more capable

The first time we were faced with a stressful situation on Black Duck, was immediately after we had bought her. It was the first time we took her for a sail by ourselves and we had to maneuver her out of a tight spot in the marina where she was docked.

First, we nearly collided with a handful of boats around us, and this while their owners watched nervously from the shore. And later on the same day, we flooded the bilges with water and nearly drowned the engine. And all of this was due to mere incompetence. The boat did not do it, the sea did not do it, we did it. It was, of course, a stressful day; I actually think it was the first time I ever experienced physically shaking from nerves. But so it happened, and we learned that we had a great deal to learn, and as we have been learning, it has become clear that there will always be another test.

Richard Henry Dana wrote in his classic book Two Years Before the Mast: “There is not so helpless and pitiable an object in the world as a landsman beginning a sailor’s life.” This statement is as serious to me as it is amusing, and I can vouch, in my own experience, for the truth of its claim.

For those of you, who have stuck long enough with me to get to the final sentences of this article, here is what I have concluded after all this pondering about stress:

We do not set out on a journey to always feel content. Nor do we think that we should never be challenged. If we did, we are living in blind expectation, and we should wake ourselves before going to sea when there is no turning back.

But do not think that resilience come naturally, that thrill is something which only belongs to those born for adventure, for it is an attribute which can be learned through want and hard work. Be ready to be stressed at times, to be scared and to feel lost and let it be a motivator to become a better sailor.

Thank you for Reading!

Watch the video of how we fixed the heat exchanger while drifting across the shipping lane off the north coast of Sumbawa.

Read also from Nights at Sea:

#1 Shiver me Timbers, is that a Tornado?

#2 Loneliness and the Sound of Thoughts

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