Go…Go Row That Boat!

Years ago when I was dating my former husband, we would go sailing at Hoover Reservoir. Daytime sailing was for weekends but sometimes we would meet after work at the docks and take the Flying Scot for a relaxing sail. There is something magical about seeing the sunset from the vantage point of the middle of a lake. The gentle rocking of the sail boat, the whisper of the sails flapping in a small breeze, the golden glow of the sky…those are memories I will never forget.   

The Flying Scot #70 was special as it was the 70th boat made of its kind, an old boat, sea-worthy and time worn. As a young man, he had crewed on this boat for the original owner, and now he owned and took great care of this relic. I embraced the history and I embraced the experience.

I loved those evenings on the lake! We would pack a picnic and sail out to the far north of the lake, enjoying the cooling breeze on a hot summer’s night. 

Spring sailing was much wilder than summer, with those big winds coming in gusts and calling for much maneuvering of sheets and moving of the boom back and forth. Since my knowledge of sailing was zero, my only job was to manage a little rope in the middle of the boat called the Cunningham, which flattens the main sail for heavy winds, a fairly easy job for a non-sailor.  

But this was summer. What’s the worst that could happen? Of course I needed to remember to duck my head under the boom when we would tack the necessary 45 degrees into the wind, zig zagging our way up the lake, but I was used to that now and could even manage a few ropes when he told me what to do.

There is a lot of work sailing a boat in all kinds of weather. My Ex was and still is an excellent sailor and could read the wind better than anyone on that lake. He could manage the Flying Scot alone, if he needed to, and that was a good thing because I never learned to sail …and I never learned to sail alone because I never learned to swim. That in itself is not an interesting story.  However what happened during the final of my college swimming course in 1973, is in fact as interesting as it is wild. That’s a tale for another time.

On this hot summer evening we had sailed pretty far north when the wind slowed down to a little breeze and then … eventually … just … stopped. No wind and no wind in sight. No leaves were moving on the trees on the sides of the lake, no ripples in the water. Nothing.

Hoover Reservoir is definitely small in comparison to Lake Erie, but from its impressive dam to the farthest point north it is 8 miles long and we were, as I just mentioned, pretty far north at the point of wind loss.  

The loss of wind was not unusual…wind is fickle in that regard and past sailing times told me it would pick up soon.  But this time it didn’t. Time passed. The sun set and the sky darkened. The gentle rocking of the boat, that earlier had felt comforting like being in the smoothest rocking chair, now felt just a little threatening.

I love walking alongside big bodies of water; I love gazing at lakes, oceans, rivers from a safe place. The beach is a place of revitalization for me. But my fear of deep waters goes way back, farther than I can remember. As much as I loved being on that boat all the times we sailed, there was never a moment that I was not aware of the dangers of being a non-swimmer while being in the middle of a very deep lake. 

So…I made myself stop the negative mental tape of what lurked below. I began a new tape…a calming, positive one inside my head. I prayed there was a pair of oars somewhere stashed in the bow of that boat, because , friends, there is no motor on small sailing boats. It’s the wind and you…and that’s it! Eventually, I turned to him and asked what our choices were and what I could do to help. 

In spite of the fears I mentioned earlier, in a crisis, big or small, I get my act together pretty quickly. I can shove fear way down inside and do whatever needs to be done. I have lots of stories of crazy, outlandish things I have successfully powered through. So, just know this: if there is a crisis, I’m your girl. 

He looked around confirming the lack of wind and no real potential for any to come and said, “We’re going to have to row back to shore.” I looked down the lake, mentally noting just how much rowing this was going to take, and turned to him and said, “Which side do you want me on?”  

We rowed and talked that night…rowed and talked. We also rowed and kept silent with our own thoughts. We alternated quiet words with comfortable silence. The stillness of the night was incredible! I felt invigorated, empowered, and purposeful. Actually, I felt excited. We rowed till our arms were stiff and a little sore. But we were young and in good shape so we stopped only to roll our shoulders for a minute every now and then and smoothly resumed our mission.  

In sailing you are in a position of one person in front of the other for much of the sail. But when you row, you row side by side the entire time and that is a completely different dynamic. You must time the dip of your paddle into and out of the water simultaneously with the other person.

You establish a rhythm and you have to keep that rhythm up continually. Being in perfect synch with someone is a beautiful thing. Being in synch in life is even better. I found I liked gliding in the water, knowing we were powering this boat with the strength of our bodies and the determination of our minds. Our paddles worked WITH the water and each other, not against. Those moments were as golden as any sunset you will ever see.

I liked this better really. I was doing my part and my part was now equal to his part and that felt good.

It felt good to contribute to the solution. And it felt good to completely override my fear of water with the effort of an ultimate purpose.

It was pitch dark when we made it back to the docks. I was surprised that I didn’t feel even the slightest bit of weariness.  I only felt triumphant, capable, confident, and very close to this person I had rowed several miles with on a dark and beautiful summer’s night. 

Every time I hear the phrase: “When there is no wind…row!”, I think of that night.

I think of that night and know that when life hands me a difficult problem or when I’m left with seemingly no possible solutions to a life crisis, or horrible situation, I need to calm my breathing, push the fears aside, look toward the target and do the one thing I can do to move myself closer to the goal.

That method always works for me…always. 

Life has handed us all a really big whopping crisis in 2020. 

Right now we feel like there is no real solution in sight. There is “no motor” , so to speak, to fix this pandemic yet. Eventually there will be. But for now, it’s science and the experts and another critically important ingredient: You & I. We will get through this!  And, just as certainly, we will have other difficulties in life that take its place. We know that this life, as wondrous as it is, holds many challenges.

“In this world, you will have many troubles.”

And we also have hope! For every challenge we are faced with, we can stop, assess the scenario in front of us at this moment and do the ONE thing that will move us forward and through. 

One thing done well, will take us miles ahead, even through the darkness. 

Daily I remind myself of this. 

I do have a choice.  I can stay still in the water and watch the night turn into day in the very same spot. Or I can pick up my paddle on my own side of the boat and row … one dip at a time. 

Some of us are fortunate to have someone to row with. Let us never underestimate the power of that connection and the depth of growth we can have when we go through a difficult time together. 

Others of us are rowing alone. I like to think that even though we may have our own solitary boat to row, we are at least in the same lake with others and along the way we can encourage and uplift each other from our own individual point of view. 

Look around! 

What is the ONE thing you CAN do that will move you forward in whatever you are facing today?  You are not alone. Take a breath and do it.

When we feel like there is no wind in sight, then go…go row that boat!