A Mother's Lesson

I had arranged a short weekend cruise with some people. A group of friends was desperate to experience the charms of sea sailing. And since it was only two days, they wanted to sail without setting foot on land.

We were supposed to meet early in the morning in Gdańsk, set off immediately, and just sail, and sail, and sail...

I had to pick up the yacht from Stogi, so at the crack of dawn, I was at the club. It turned out there were problems because the yacht couldn't set sail. A quick search for a replacement yacht began. After a while, one was found in Górki Zachodnie. I rushed to Górki as fast as I could to get to Gdańsk ASAP. In all the chaos and rush, I didn't check everything and took the charter company's word for it.

Finally, I set sail, knowing I was late. To make matters worse, the wind had died down almost completely. I started the "hurdy-gurdy" (the engine) and gunned it as fast as I could. I'm already at the Gdańsk port entrance, passing Westerplatte. I'm already past the Wisłoujście ferry. Soon, I pass the chemical plant quay to port, and then the engine coughed three times, snorted twice, sneezed once, and... fell silent. That was the thing I hadn't checked – the fuel tank was supposed to be full, but it wasn't.

Hoisting the sails didn't change much, as there was almost zero wind. Just using my remaining inertia, I slowly drifted away from the channel's center so something bigger wouldn't run me over. I was somewhat desperate. I could already see the faces of those who were supposed to be on the water by now, and the yacht still wasn't there. But what could I do? I should have checked the fuel myself.

After a moment, I saw a patrol boat from the city guard with the police on the water. I didn't have to try too hard. Seeing the sails, they came over to me and informed me that sailing under sail here wasn't allowed...

"I know," I replied, "but some gremlin messed with my engine, and it just quit... both the engine and the gremlin." – I was embellishing a little so I wouldn't look like a fool who ran out of fuel. They radioed for a larger motorboat and told me not to move, that it would come soon and take me in tow.

"I definitely won't be moving," I thought. "If I could move, I wouldn't need help."

I finally made it to the quay in Gdańsk at noon. I could see the dissatisfaction and impatience in their eyes. They should have been on the water long ago, not waiting for me to arrive. I tried to calm them down in various ways, even using the lack of wind as an argument, but they weren't convinced. Their craving for the sea, their desire to experience what they had only known from stories, was stronger than any argument. They had been dreaming about this for weeks. They had been waiting and yearning for it like a prostitute for love, or a miner for a bath after his shift, and now here they were, sitting and waiting. I promised we would extend the cruise until late on Sunday night, and that calmed them down a bit. Finally, the charter agent arrived with fuel, everyone piled onto the deck, and we set off.

We entered the Gdańsk Bay at 3:00 PM. Luckily for me, the wind had woken up and began to fill our sails. Slowly but steadily, it picked up. When the yacht got a heel and started rocking on the waves, the crew began to forget that we had started late. With every wave, you could hear their "Aaaahs..., Oooohs..., Woooows...". After two hours, we had a solid force 4, and the sea state in the bay had risen to 3.

At one point, I interrupted their "aahs" and "oohs" that came with every bigger wave and ordered a reef. There were protests, "not yet," "why," but I was adamant. I also changed course towards Hel.

"But how come? We were supposed to sail the whole time," I heard."We're just heading in the direction of Hel," I replied. "We don't have to enter the port at all."

The breeze strengthened to a 5, a light fog and drizzle appeared. The "aahs" and "oohs" grew quieter by the minute. Some took to their bunks, others became inseparable from their sick bags. Their faces turned somewhat paler. Steering the yacht, which now offered little resistance and even a slight weather helm, was left entirely to me.

These were still the times when plotters weren't common on yachts. GPS was a rare luxury, and mine, borrowed from a friend, only showed the position as two rows of digits on the screen. So, to know where you were, you had to plot those numbers onto a paper chart.

At one point, I spoke to the crew member who was supposed to be helping me:

"Piotrek, could you give me the position from the GPS?" Silence.

"Piotrek, why aren't you answering!" Silence again. I waited 5 minutes and called out again:

"Piotrek, why don't you answer when I ask you!"

A pale face appeared in the companionway doorway—Piotrek's face, and next to it, in his hand, a filled sick bag.

"Ah, well, my mother taught me not to speak with my mouth full," Piotrek managed to say.

We spent the evening in Hel in excellent spirits, and in the morning, we set sail for another adventure.That evening back in Gdańsk, everyone was already arranging the next cruise.