A shot across the bow

 

This time of year, the days are long, and the weather is hot. Ahh, summer. Most folks are outside enjoying all things summer – farmer’s markets, picnics, sunscreen.

Who knows? You may even find yourself on a boat. If so, you may want to be aware that there’s a different language for the seafarer. In fact, the word “seafarer” should clue you into the unnecessarily-complicated lexicon that seafarers are drawn to. Seafaring seafarers with serious seamanship aim to make things shipshape. It’s easy to judge these people but you may want to cut them some slack. Many have had a bout or two of scurvy.

I’m kind of a landlubber so it’s all a bit much for me. What’s odd about nautical language is how there are already words for most of this stuff. I don’t mean to rock the boat here, but I’ve always found the word “hello” useful, direct, friendly, and sufficient. But you don’t say “hello” on a boat. You say “Ahoy” which means “I am on a boat. You are on a boat. Hello.” Should you deign to acknowledge someone who is on land (this is not advised) you may revert to “hello”.

Some people may think I’m a bit of a loose cannon over here but aren’t “front” and “back” adequate words? Oh no. Nautical types insist on calling it the “bow” and “stern”. And we already have distances! Why do we need more distances?! Sure, there are different systems of distance. The logical metric system (meters, kilometers, etc.) and the idiotic imperialist system (feet, yards, pounds, etc.). Do we really need a “nautical mile”, which is one-eighth longer than a regular mile? I also cannot fathom why we need a fathom which, incidentally, is six feet.

Are “left” and “right” really so different than “port” and “starboard”? In fact, some nautical type liked the word “port” so much he decided a port would also be a place you could bring your boat, like a harbor. It’s enough to drive you to drink a very sweet, strong after dinner drink from Portugal. You know, a port.

One word that makes me want to keel over is “knot”. A “knot” is a word with an unnecessary letter in it. That “k” is entirely the fault of Germans who actually pronounce it. Luckily, at some point English speakers noticed it was hard and dumb to say a “k” before an “n” and started ignoring it. A knot is a new unit of speed, roughly 1.15 miles per hour, needed because of the new distance, the nautical mile. The only good thing about knots as a measurement of speed is that it will tell you about your speed on water, in the air, or should you find yourself there, space.

So fine, you say, knots are a speed. Got it. Except a knot is ALSO A FASTENING MADE WITH ROPES?! And there’s about a hundred knots you need to know: bowline; clove hitch; two-half hitches; and a reef knot! Some knots even have exotic names like Zeppelin Bend, Alpine Butterfly Loop, and Sheepshank.

And just what do you think you’re tying into knots? Well, that depends. Are you on land? Then you can tie a rope into a knot. Are you on a boat? Then that rope is now a “line”. You have bow lines and spring lines and stern lines. But they’re just ropes on a boat. And I thought I was supposed to know the ropes?! Now I’m also supposed to learn my lines? I thought that was advice for actors. I’m a bit at sea on all this.

In the end, summer is too glorious, too big, too strong to be sunk by mere nautical words. Summer will shine through and warm our hearts. Even on a boat, err, I mean a vessel. If you don’t want to be left high and dry, come aboard and batten down the hatches. Get your moorings because you will need to give the seafarer a wide berth. If they run a tight ship, it’s going to be all hands-on deck. I like the cut of their jib, but this unnecessarily complicated terminology is a lot. From time to time you find yourself using language that’s pretty salty and swear like a, well, like a sailor.