When I retired from the U.S. Coast Guard, all I wanted to do was to find a nice anchorage for my 32 Wellcraft St. Tropez and write. I was tired, recently divorced, and just generally grumpy. A lifetime—or what felt like one—of working in search and rescue and maritime safety was over and I dreamed of a life where I had nothing to do between far-distant deadlines. I could sleep in, clack out a few hundred words before lunch, pretend I was writing a book, and be lazy for the rest of the day. That I ever started the engines or went anywhere was less important.
Having spent so many years handling other people’s bad days on the water, I had something to say about how I thought the average boater could avoid those days and that’s what I wanted to talk about. I was gonna live the dream until I calculated how much fuel my twin 454 Mercruisers would burn at cruise from my dock in Virginia to Saint Augustine—my preferred anchorage—and I realized I might be too broke to be a writer. At least I’d be too broke to be a writer who lives aboard the gas-hog that was my St. Tropez. My dream of general laziness with occasional fits of writing was put on hold. I sold the boat—it was not my second happiest day—and I went off and got one of those real jobs people talked about.
Luckily, I got an offer I couldn’t refuse that kept me in the world of search and rescue without the bother of late-night swims in the far Atlantic. I became the manager of Lifesaving Systems, an iconic business in the world of professional search and rescue equipment. I was just getting started there when my friend Mary South, who happened to be the editor-in-chief of Soundings at the time, made me another offer I couldn’t refuse. She knew I was busy but had no problem playing on my crushed dream and offered me an online column. For the next ten months, while working a full time job, I wrote Lifelines, forty-two columns on boating safety that were published at Soundingsonline.com
We covered my primary philosophy regarding safety at sea (be prepared) and we dug deep into float plans and checklists. We discussed the environment and the water itself. I warned you of what (and who) to avoid at sea, and what goes wrong out there more than anything else. We talked about the gear you have and setting up the gear you don’t have, training and drills, and some of the things I know you didn’t think you would ever need on a boat (but you really do).
I tried to give you the best of what I learned working both sides of the maritime safety equation; how to respond when things go wrong and preventing those problems from happening in the first place. The stuff I didn’t write about I put in a course at Boater’s University. It was rewarding work. I loved doing it. But it damn near killed me.
I barely had weekends off as it was, and I had to use every spare minute to write those weekly columns. It was a silly thing to agree to. It had to stop. From the moment I stopped writing seven years ago I put all of my effort into my job. This also, damn near killed me (another story entirely), but it led to something wonderful. I made enough money so I can finally afford to be a full-time, lazy, writer. Late last year, I retired (again).
With no deadline in mind, I’ve been writing 300 words every morning and working on that book (no, really). And now another friend, Jeanne Craig, who happens to be the editor-in-chief at Soundings today, made me another offer I can’t refuse—bring Lifelines back. The deadline schedule she gave me suits my desire for laziness perfectly.
While trying my best to not suck the fun out of your time on the water, we’re going to dive back into all the topics that will make you safe and happy on the water, and help you handle the unexpected should it arise. We’ll review gear, we’ll discuss drills and training, we’ll look at things gone right and wrong and learn lessons from past mishaps. There are always going to be accidents, but many of them are avoidable. We’re going to talk about what might go wrong, so it doesn’t go wrong for you.
