There I was, out there feeling like a seasoned mariner. I had just completed docking a 32-foot center console without even kissing my fender up against the side of the floating dock. I got my lines on, set the forward and aft springs, and made sure everything looked nice and tidy as I stepped off the boat for the final time that day (or so I thought). And then things got weird.
Yep, that's right. My coworker had asked me to help move the 35-foot cruiser, affectionately known as the Bathtub. Of course, I got on confidently, knowing in my head that my skills were enough (at least that day, they were) for me to successfully dock a boat over 30 feet with no bow thruster only a few minutes before. That was the last time that day I'd feel anything remotely resembling confidence on the water.
What had been a two-knot breeze the half-hour before turned into consistent fifteen-knot gusts upon our return from refueling the "Bathtub." Suffice to say that it was in that moment I received a real-time education in the finer differences between the effects of sustained wind on a low-profile center console versus a cruiser with a freeboard as high as the Great Wall of China (give or take). As I found myself diagonal to the slip in front of several dockside onlookers, the futility of trying to fight the wind with my twin outboards setting in, I felt my coworker's hand on my shoulder. "Watch me" were the two words uttered as I had no choice but to give up the throttles and watch someone with experience spanning my entire lifetime deftly back the boat into the slip without a hitch.
The whole thing showed me a couple things. First, no two boats are the same, and you can't expect them to handle the same way, even if they're similar in length. As I saw firsthand, even a couple feet can make a difference, not to mention differences in freeboard, beam, or weight. The second lesson was more poignant: respect the water. Every time you step out onto a boat, be prepared to learn something. There is no formula for success every single time you're out there. You will encounter different situations, different weather, and different places. What works one day might completely fail the next. Same goes for location, time of day, current, tide, etc.
The water will humble you, no matter how good you feel you are. I know I'm not good yet, but it gives me confidence knowing that the fire that's inside to keep learning and adapting to any situation is there. So, next time you feel like an impostor on the water, just remember: the water will humble us all. It's what you do next that counts. Cheers:)