Yesterday, my son returned from Egypt with many stories of his adventures over the past month. One of the highlights was his four day trip from Aswan to Luxor, Karnak, and other sites aboard a felucca, the small lateen rigged sailboat so frequently pictured on the Nile. He mentioned the pleasure of hearing the gentle sounds of sailing, especially the rhythmic splash as the boat cut through the wavelets. Immediately, I was carried back thirty years to the days when I sailed off Tybee in the Savannah ranges and the Back River or surfed the boat in the shoals off 19th Street at the inlet.My sailboat was by no means large, but it was enough to provide two people with unforgivable challenge on the water. She had many functions over the years. At various times, she was a sanctuary, a bar, a bistro of sorts, a bed, and even a confessional. Most of all, she was a remarkable teacher, enticing me to stretch limits while never hesitating to admonish me before demonstrating the results of recklessness. Through it all, there was the timelessness of being on the water, driven by the winds and currents, responding to the needs of both the boat and the compass. When I moved off the water a few years later, I sold the boat reluctantly, but with great confidence knowing she would reward her new owner with his personal set of lasting memories.
I wish everyone could have an opportunity to learn to sail and sail frequently. It is a rewarding recreation, a sure therapy for mind and body. And with sailing goes the necessity of learning to swim, for if one sails, one will surely swim. Believe me.
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