BOATS HAVE SOULS AND PERSONALITIES
Lewis Keizer
We
like to think we own a boat. But for good or for ill, we are also owned by the
boat. Each of the eight boats that have owned me had a soul and a personality.
So it is with all boats, power and sail. I took care of each one and passed it
on in better condition than I had received it, and for that reason my boats
always took care of me.
What
is the soul of a boat? Well, first we must understand that soul is mind or
consciousness. Everything created and built by us—cars, boats, houses,
computers—has its own kind of intelligence or soul. But boats are way more
soulful than cars, which have been around for only a century. Boats were being
constructed by prehistoric cultures many thousands of years ago. More than any
other human artifact, from earliest times boats were regarded as living beings
with souls. Modern boat design has grown and evolved over the ages, and every
modern boat shares in this psychic heritage.
The
soul of a boat is rooted in an
ancient, invisible, and ever-evolving reality of mathematics and esthetics committed
to paper by a designer. It is immutable and doesn’t change with each new owner.
Alberg designs draw from one kind of soul; Nathanael Herreshoff designs draw
from another. By contrast, the personality
of a boat is different even for boats of the same design, being dependent upon
the physical build of that design done with variations of quality and detail by
human hands. It can improve under the care of a knowledgeable owner or degrade
through the neglect or poor seamanship of a boat abuser.
Whatever
name is given to a boat merely reflects the mentality of its legal owner, not
the boat.
You can name your boat something flippant like Breaking Wind, but it doesn’t reflect its soul. The same boat will
have many owners and many names.
But
naming a boat can be a modern way of representing the soul and personality of
that individual vessel. Boats have been traditionally referred to as “she” and
given female names, probably because sailors and owners were men and women were
considered to bring bad luck to a voyage. The male relationship with a boat was
like a marriage with mutual responsibilities—I take care of you, and you take
care of me. So men have often named their boats after women.
But
souls don’t have gender and neither do boats. Today many responsible boat
owners are women. In fact, looking online through ten thousand current boat
names at http://10000boatnames.com/, the majority of them are
genderless names like Andiamo, Carpe
Diem, or Escapade. There are also
many male names like Orion or Popeye.
A
walk through any marina reveals that there are responsible boat owners and boat
abusers. Responsible owners make themselves knowledgeable so they can improve
their boats, but abusers neglect and kill them. The personality of a boat—its
performance, cosmetics, and market value—can be cultivated and improved by
human ownership, but the invisible soul of a boat remains unchanged. Therefore
it is the soul of a neglected good
old boat—not the visible personality—that calls out to a sailor who falls in
love with it and devotes himself to restoring it and bringing it back to life.
Boats
have life-cycles. With love and care, they live long and grow old gracefully,
but neglected they age prematurely and die. New boats straight from the factory
have immature adolescent personalities with sawdust in fuel tanks, loose bolts
in the bilge, and all kinds of issues that reveal themselves on a shakedown
cruise. But as a new owner works to improve his boat’s personality, the vessel
matures. It becomes more reliable, trustworthy, comfortable, and serviceable,
and its invisible soul begins to shine brightly through its physical personality
in performance and esthetics. There may be many pretty boats of the same design
out there, but this especially loved one becomes the boat that turns heads and
gets photographed.
My
new-to-me Cape Dory 28 was maintained beautifully by the original owner from
the time he took possession of it in 1978. He named it Levon after his Chesapeake Bay retriever and cruised it all over
the Pacific several times.
A boat
named after a dog? I don’t like to change boat names, but did I want to keep
the name Levon? Did I want a boat
with the soul of a dog, no matter how noble a dog it may have been?
But
after a little internet research, I found that Levon is an Armenian name that means Lion and is pronounced
“Lee-von,” like English Leon. Aha! A boat with the soul of a lion! I could live
with that (especially since it came with the name already monogrammed on
dishware, towels, and blankets). So my boat has a male name and is not a she,
but a he. Our relationship will not be like a marriage, but a close friendship.
Do
I talk to Levon? Sometimes with
words, but mostly in the silent communion of a singlehander. I admire his
handsome Carl Alberg lines and rugged strength, solid hull, and intelligent, seakindly
motion. We sail together, and that says it all.