I’m pretty sure I sailed before I walked. I know I sailed before I talked. I don’t remember it, but it’s family lore. My parents’ idea of a nice family outing was to put their first-born, while still in the babe-in-arms stage, aboard their 18-foot Seagull sloop and go sailing on Lake Michigan. There is no record of whether I wore a life preserver. I’m guessing I didn’t. The kapok models in vogue at the time would have outweighed the child.

Sailing ranks among country churches, Amish barns and potlucks as institutions substantially built and shaped by volunteers. Their work is all around us and it is mighty impressive. 

The politics of international amateur athletic competition are so inscrutable and Byzantine they make professional sports look wholesome in comparison. Professional sports are driven by the simple and pure imperative of an entertainment business–to make money. International amateur sports are driven by a mysterious something else. Whatever it is, it's not pure or simple, judging from the bizarre decisions issued by the ruling authorities. 

 As a kid, I had a conversation with my mother almost every weekend after I departed in the morning, not to return until dinner time.  

If there is a more wonderful invention for sailors than bareboat chartering, I haven't heard of it.  When I experienced it the first time, it seemed too good to be true. 

Three stout but dignified denizens of Navigator Heaven were gathered at a local pub for their afternoon pint. “What do you make of that sailing vessel fetching up on Cargados Carajos Shoals near Mauritius?” Captain James Cook, the legendary 18th-century explorer and cartographer, asked his mates.

When steam came to transport, commercial sailing was decimated, and what was left was the recreational kind. I’m hoping the second coming of steam won’t be as bad for sailing. 

I’m writing this on the “today” mentioned in the above excerpt from the NOAA marine forecast, which is October 31, 2014. That is the deadline for this column, and I had better get going, but I am being distracted by the view through my office window, a scene rendered in pewter of a street shrouded in metallic gray with a sturdy maple tree bending in the burgeoning gale as its last few leaves become unmoored to join the horizontal flight of passing snowflakes. 

Let’s just let Larry keep the America’s Cup. Really, if it means so much to him that he’s willing to buy a yacht club, rewrite the rules to gain a huge advantage and even create a team willing to cheat, well, just let him have it. 

When we reached the man in the water and made eye contact, it was clear to the entire crew that we would only have one chance and a few minutes at rescue. He was still treading water and aware of his

The Ancient Mariner’s albatross hangs from his neck. My albatross hangs on to my wand—the one mounted on the masthead of my boat. Back to big-bird obsessions soon. But first, a quiz. What is the

Sailors competing in the 2016 Olympics in Brazil are going to have an excellent chance of not only bringing home lifetime treasures such as gold, silver and bronze medals, bu

We are racing, though you wouldn’t know it from the demeanor of the crew.  The six of us standing the midnight to 3 a.m. watch are virtually silent. When a word is spoken it is barely louder

 I was thinking of changing SAILING’s motto to “The Most Saved Magazine in the World Not Counting National Geographic.”OK, that’s not going to happen, and not just because the c

There are competing philosophies at sailing schools. Some teach almost exclusively through racing, while others reject racing altogether. Only a few straddle a racing middle ground. Advocates on eithe

I was thinking of changing SAILING’s motto to “The Most Saved Magazine in the World Not Counting National Geographic.”  OK, that’s not going to happen, and not just because the clu

Over the past few years, there has been a groundswell of fretting about the future of sailing. The number of participants is dwindling, some say, and produce statistics to prove their point.