Backing to Port

When we purchased Indiscretion late last summer, we knew we needed help in getting to know our new vessel, the systems on board, and in particular, maneuvering her 60,000 pounds around docks and other boats. Coming from a smaller and lighter sailboat, operating this trawler was a whole new experience for us.

To our delight, we had the best teacher possible: Don Kohlmann from the Seattle office of Nordhavn spent a full day with us on the water, showing us first hand how to operate the boat, along with a detailed review of all its systems. Don is a terrific teacher and an all-around wonderful person. I don’t believe I’ve connected as quickly with another soul – part mentor, brother, and best friend. Getting to work with Don is one of the fringe benefits of buying a Nordhavn trawler.

Indiscretion has bow and stern thrusters — joysticks at the helm that magically allow you to turn the bow or stern in the direction you want to move. From my sailing days, I admit I was entranced with the notion of these thrusters. It felt like cheating to be able to spin the boat in this way after all the years of gliding a sailboat into a slip on momentum and prayer. And backing a sailboat in any direction was always an adventure. I certainly could have used such a thruster system a time or two over the years.

During our sea trial and later on-the-water training, I noticed Don seldom used the thrusters, trusting instead the prop-walk and prop-wash afforded by the ship’s propeller and rudder.

“Why not use the thrusters?” I asked as we left the dock and again as we returned, eying the beautiful little joysticks at the helm.

“You don’t need them, and you really shouldn’t rely on them, especially with this trawler’s big propeller,” Don counseled.

I heard none of this. This new trawler had bow and stern thrusters, and I was going to use them, dammit.

You might sense where this is going.

Once we had the boat moored at our home port of Quartermaster Marina, we were keen to take trips before summer finally ran out on us. With all of us aboard and all systems ready, I would confidently back the boat out of the slip. Any strong wind, which would tend to blow our light sailboat around, had little effect on this big trawler, giving me a greater sense of control and confidence. But then the damnedest thing would happen: as I turned the wheel to port, intending to back that way, the boat would turn to starboard.

“Wow, this boat has a powerful prop walk to starboard,” I said to myself from my perch on the flybridge. Our last sailboat had a similar issue, and it was almost impossible to back to port. “No worries,” I thought. “I have thrusters,” as I pressed the joystick, spun the stern around, and headed on our way. This same sequence repeated every time I left our marina.

A few trips later, I found myself backing out of Dock Street Marina in Tacoma. I was looking forward to this maneuver because it required backing to starboard — clearly the boat’s preferred backing angle. It was a windy morning, and I was a little nervous as a new captain, noting the wind waves on the water and the flags flapping along the quay. Everyone climbed aboard, the dock lines were retrieved, and I backed out of the slip into the fairway. People seem drawn to these Nordhavn trawlers, and a group assembled on the docks to watch us depart. I turned the wheel to starboard, smiling to myself, and the boat started turning to port. What the … ?! I gave her a little more throttle, and the boat turned faster to port, heading in the wrong direction with the wind soon pushing her further off course.

I quickly started firing thrusters, both bow and stern, like phasers and photon torpedos on a starship under attack from the Klingons, and eventually positioned the boat to safely exit the fairway, but not without first rubbing a neighboring dock and suffering the scorn of a handful of fellow boaters standing out on their bows, clearly nervous at my wayward meanderings. My confidence at docking this boat was severely compromised.

I downplayed this to my first mate Lisa, suggesting the wind was just a little too much that day, but I was concerned.

The holidays came and went, and there were a few opportunities for winter cruises that I found reasons to skip. In each case, the marine forecast showed too much wind, and I was worried about docking mishaps, especially when such basic maneuvers as backing to port or starboard seemed to elude my capabilities as skipper. I hated having to rely on those damned thrusters, which honestly aren’t that great when the wind is blowing. Since these trawlers are meant for serious open ocean passages, I knew the problem lied with me; I must be doing something wrong.

We took the boat out for an afternoon a few weeks ago for the sole purpose of figuring out this weird backing problem, something we should have done in our first week. I backed out of the slip and turned the wheel to port. The boat slowly turned to starboard — not the direction we needed to go. I took a breath and turned the wheel to starboard, gave her some reverse throttle, and she gracefully turned to port.

So here’s the thing: in all my years of sailing, I know that backing a boat is tricky. You need to have a certain amount of luck and gumption and physics to make it work, particularly in strong winds. One certainty on a sailboat is you must turn the rudder in the direction you want to go. If you want to back to port, you turn the rudder to port. This is as basic as which way you rotate the handlebars of your bicycle or the direction you unscrew your gas cap.

And yet, in this new trawler universe, the physics of backing is somehow reversed. Starboard turns to port, left becomes right, and Spock is evil and wears a beard. My brain hurt.

I motored out into the middle of Quartermaster Harbor and stopped the boat. I practiced backing the boat and confirmed what I had begun to suspect. Putting the helm hard over to port and backing down, the boat will pivot to starboard. She will equally rotate to port with the rudder hard over to starboard. In fact, with a little jockeying of forward and reverse, the boat will spin in a tight circle, in either direction, though in an opposite way from my years of experience aboard sailboats.

Don’s first-day advice came back to me as I continued these maneuvers, eventually heading over to Dockton Marina where I practiced approaching the public dock from different angles. If I gave up my preconceived notion of which way to turn the helm in reverse, the boat performed flawlessly.

As usual, Lisa got the idea more quickly than I did. “Just steer the bow,” she yelled up from the cockpit. With this mindset, it all clicked, and maneuvering became dead simple. I found that Indiscretion’s large propeller and rudder provide amazing slow-speed maneuverability, even better than thrusters. Near the dock with the stern kicked out, turning the helm to port with a burst of throttle in forward gear (“steer the bow!”), the stern will pivot as if by magic to starboard.

I realize now I should have spent more time listening to Don on that first day on the water. In later discussions with other trawler captains, I’ve learned that the force of water from the big propeller against an angled rudder creates a powerful sideways thrust that is incredibly helpful when docking or maneuvering. I used this new-found knowledge on a recent trip and found my new mastery of this ship near docks and other boats damn satisfying. And relieving.

Once I accepted this change in the laws of boat-steering physics, it made me wonder what other deep-rooted beliefs I hold about the world that are patently untrue under a different set of circumstances.

I recall driving in Ireland when everything seemed backward. I sat on the right side of the car, with the stick shift in my left hand, while driving in the left lane of the road. Even the brakes on bicycles in Ireland are reversed. Talk about a challenge to long-held preconceived notions.

I think the lesson here is two-fold: first, I recognize I still have a lot to learn as a new captain of this beautiful trawler, and I will do my best to continue my crawl up this steep curve. And second, I need to be more open-minded and flexible in my thinking, both afloat and ashore, to make sure I don’t turn into an older dog that can’t learn new tricks. Life can surprise you at just about any age.