Clawing Off
When unexpected storms drive us toward the rocks, the only chance to survive may be a desperate strategy of old-time mariners. They called it “clawing off.”
At times, life is as smooth and effortless as a day in the tropics: clear skies, steady winds, calm seas. At other times, the going is rocky and the sailing tough: gray skies, gusty winds, lumpy and mean seas. It is in those times that we can find ourselves driven toward disaster on a lee shore.
Recently I found myself there.
A minor accident left me unable to either sit or stand for more than half an hour, though sitting and standing are the constants of my professional life. My wife—sailing partner, professional person and carpool executive—suffered from serious back problems and seemed to be headed for major back surgery, with all of its unknowns. Our two young teenagers generated many extracurricular demands that required a constant application of time, attention and love.
We were tapped out. We’d used up all of our physical and emotional resources and were barely hanging on. But at least we were doing OK financially.
Then a black squall hit: a down-sizing at my job portended financial disaster.
All told, there are people worse off. We were not on the rocks yet. Sometimes I could hear the surf on the rocks just beyond the haze. Sometimes I could see clearly through the fog of worry and recognize that we were probably not any closer to disaster than most people. But we were closer than I wanted to be, and being shoved closer by life’s storms every day.
I worried about what little thing might happen next, and whether that would sink us. I lay awake at night staring at the ceiling, imagining all of the possible things that could wreck us.
Oddly enough, it was sailing that provided me comfort.
I thought of the stories of the old wooden ships caught on a lee shore. Wind and tide against them, disaster lurked just to leeward. These old ships were as unable to make significant headway against the forces that pushed them toward the rocks as we were.
Those old mariners had no choice but to win their desperate fights. They knew that there was no magical one-and-done solution. They had to fight, and that meant a grueling, non-stop for every inch of advantage. If they could achieve one tiny sliver of advantage, they counted it as a victory. But they couldn’t stop to celebrate they had to fight for the next scrap of advantage, then the next.
They called the fight "clawing off." The phrase eloquently bespeaks the desperation of the struggle.
Remembering this, I turn back to my own difficulties with a fresh perspective.
We face multiple challenges, for sure. The weight of all of them together seems insurmountable. But I will turn my attention away from the combined weight. Instead, I will focus on just one problem: the one facing me right now. I will beat it and then attack each next problem, one by one.
I will claw off, inch by inch, like the old sailors. I will never allow my attention to drift from this single challenge before me, and I will turn a blind eye to the disaster that lies just over my shoulder. I will trust that this old vessel that has seen me through other storms will see me through once more.
I may fail. But it will not be for want of trying.
A version of this story first appeared in Sail magazine, © Brad Elbein 1996