Are you stupid?

While the likes of Ellen MacArthur, Sharon Sites Adams, Amanda Clark and Gail Hines have contributed so much to sailing, to have a woman on the water, fully and undeniably in charge of a sailboat, is still very much out of balance with the number of women sailors. Even when I am declared skipper of the day, I am likely to defer or even relinquish my charge to Ed if the going gets rough.

For the Pancake Breakfast cruise, though, I could not be deferential. Ed would not be on the boat as he usually is, nor would he be shore-side to launch or retrieve Bliss. He was 1864.19 miles away when I told my mother I was going sailing for the weekend.

“Where?” she asked, the pitch of her voice raising an octave.

“Oh, Lake Pleasant, on Bliss.” I answered as nonchalantly as possible.

“I thought Ed was in Florida?” She paused, waiting for me to tell her she was wrong.

“So?”

“What? Are you stupid?”

I sort of expected a response something like this, but stupid? Ouch! Why can’t my mother just say something positive or even a simple “Be careful.” I suppress my anger, pause to take a breath and force a laugh. “Why would you say that Mom? You’ve been with me on a boat. Do you really think I’m incapable and I’m making a stupid choice?”

“No… Who’s going with you?”

“Linda.”

“Oh my God! Two women alone on a sailboat!” I note her tone is two octaves higher, so I get defensive.

“So! Why not? I’m not going to Bora Bora for God sake. We’re just spending the night on the lake.”

“SPENDING THE NIGHT! WITHOUT A MAN!” Now she is absolutely shrill, so I poke at her, knowing a bit of antagonism will distract her from the fact I have this crazy idea of going sailing without the help of a man.

“What, do I need a penis to know how to hold a tiller?”

She doesn’t answer. I am sure she gets my point but I am totally caught off guard when she confesses.

“I took a boat out once…by myself. I was stupid.”

“What, you just jumped in a boat and took a joy ride.”

“Yep,” she answers sounding somewhat proud of herself. “I rented it and just took it out — into the middle of the lake. By myself. It was a stupid thing to do.”

“What lake?” I’m fascinated, imagining her in lime green peddle pushers, running the outboard, her long brown hair swirling behind her, clueless but making her way to the middle of some body of water.

“Viciedo.” This is the little lake Ed learned to sail on in his tiny Snark. I image him, a skinny shirtless kid, passing by her boat. As improbable as that might be, I picture them sharing the lake.

“No kidding?”

“No. I was stupid but I made it back okay.”

I don’t disagree. I ask, “But you don’t really think I’m stupid for going out without Ed, do you?”

“Well, no, but Jack will.”

“Oh! Well, I don’t care. You can tell Jack I’ll be just fine.”

“Okay. You’ll be fine. Be careful.” Finally we get to the part where she can wish me well but she can not bring herself to tell me to have fun.

“Always.”

We end our conversation by chatting about other business. When I hang up I visualize my mother in her young glory days, alone, at the helm, water slapping the hull, and suddenly I feel a new confidence. It is not such a big deal to sail with only women aboard, and I know I’m not at all stupid.

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