I was slaking my thirst for things nautical during the dark winter months here recently by perusing some of the larger online cruising forums when I came across a thread titled “Shy cruising; or, don’t invite me to the potluck” which begged to be read.
The original poster commented that she had been reading a different thread recently (such is the nature of cruising life in the winter; we don’t talk about different anchorages we’ve seen recently, we talk about various threads we have been to and explored) in which the social aspects of cruising were rated most highly in the experience of many of the posters.
This person found that moderately confusing, because, she said, her and her husband cruise to get away from people, not to hang out with more of them.
This apparently struck a chord and a chorus of “me too!” posts joined the thread, each echoing the same sense of relief that you might find at an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting where you have finally found a forum of like-minded folks to whom you can confess your embarrassing condition in safety and with acceptance.
I number myself among those folks who most enjoy cruising precisely because it gets me away from other people. It doesn’t take me more than a week in the city before I’m dreaming again of empty anchorages, with only trees, seals, and sky for company. Oh, and my wife. But she’s pretty tolerable these days.
As the forum experience shows, this isn’t actually a completely rare proposition. Nor should it be terribly surprising.
Some of our most celebrated cruising progenitors were folks who intentionally set off cruising in order to avoid the crowds: Joshua Slocum, Bernard Moitessier, and here locally, Capi Blanchet and her brood (one could argue she had all the society she needed in one familial bunch already).
You might think that a lot of people still go cruising for the same reason, and if that was your assumption, you’d be shocked to find out how social the whole scene actually is. It’s hard to imagine a more convivial bunch of adventurous non-conformists. As the original thread that sparked the anti-potluck thread demonstrated, many of the folks out there find their interactions with other cruisers to be among the high points of their voyages.
Of course, with sociability comes sociopathy; get a large enough group together of any sort of folks, anywhere, and you will start finding petty slights and disagreements adding up, social norms developing and corresponding shunning and shaming occurring when those norms are violated. Cruisers, for all their kindness and generosity, are no different.
So there are still some of us who would just as soon avoid the crowds, spend our time in the unspoiled anchorages where we can be apart, and hunker down and read a good book while we’re recharging and tanking up at the marina instead of kicking back in the yacht club bar with a crowd.
Still, we are all social creatures by evolution, and however much we think we want to isolate ourselves, we’re just not equipped to survive individually. Cruisers are a tribe, and the rituals of community are not without value, even if you don’t find them particularly enjoyable. Those rituals provide some of the binding that strengthens the altruism, increase communal knowledge transfer, and lay the groundwork for the rapid, strong interpersonal relationships that even us loners enjoy with other sailors on a one-to-one basis.
For my part, and I think this is true of most cruisers to greater or lesser degrees, I appreciate both aspects of the lifestyle. I actually even enjoy a potluck now and again. And the benefit to cruising is that you can have it both ways. Many people do; there are many empty, isolated anchorages in the Broughtons, for example, where solitary boats can be, well, solitary, for days at a time with no neighbors or visitors. Those anchorages are less than a day’s sail away from, say, Pierre’s at Echo Bay, where every night is a feast and there is always a crowd.
Hopping back and forth between the two states is one of the great advantages of the cruising lifestyle. So, don’t invite me to the potluck … but when I feel like it, I’ll probably just show up anyway.
Nice piece, Scott. One thing you do not mention is that the generally libertarian side of the cruising community allows for much variation. We buddy boated with a couple as a way of learning the Southern Gulfs. We prepped with them extensively, both meeting together to discuss what we enjoyed most about cruising in general, and online, going over potential ports and anchorages. And we had a great time. But we also found that at a certain point, we wanted to be on our own, so by agreement, we parted ways for a bit, and met up a few days later. While the tribal dynamic is certainly there, in a healthy cruising tribe, the fleet understands that most of us aren’t cruising because we miss Mr. Rogers’ neighborhood. The ease of floating in and out of touch is a given.
Very true, Stuart. The ability to up-anchor and go where the wind takes you at any given time presents a different dynamic entirely than in communities that have their proximity forced upon them. And that sometimes ephemeral nature of encounters, in combination with some other sailing-specific factors, also can lead to much faster and stronger friendships than form ashore.
Still, there can be a herd mentality that takes hold in certain anchorages and marinas, and sometimes I think people forget that it’s as easy as moving on to the next one if you aren’t a fan of the scene where you are!