You do remember, don’t you, that I know next to nothing about sailing? My experience on a sailboat is so limited as to be unmentionable. But many of my friends are sailors, and I never tire of hearing them toss the sailing jargon around.
So when my friend Betty, author of Newport Betty, one of my favorite blogs, used the term “Head to Clew” yesterday, I jumped all over it. I spent a good part of Tuesday morning researching the term and learning more than I ever wanted to know about the design of a sail.
It turns out that the course sail has two distinctive parts to it which are discernible to the trained eye. The Head is the top of the sail, found between the two earrings. That makes sense…head between two earrings. Just like my wife or Eminem…take your pick.
And then the foot band (yes, found at the foot of the sail) doesn’t have earrings. Naturally…whom do you know who wears earrings on their feet? That’s one of the few parts of the body not yet given over to piercing.
However, the foot band of the course sail is a curved base which has a clew at each end of it. Thank goodness I was able to find a diagram of the course sail on the internet. That helps me convince you that I am telling the truth, not just making it up.
If I understand it correctly, the course sail can be seen clearly from the shore as the vessel is sailing away, as off to Bermuda, which is what Betty was describing in her blog post. It was the beginning of the annual Newport to Bermuda race, in which almost 200 sailing vessels competed. Putting her emotions to words, she said:
“That’s mostly what I was thinking, as I looked up at all that graceful-if-mod and no doubt super-efficient patterning illuminated from behind on sails, head to clew, as they headed South: that it’d be so great if some things (like age at a certain mid-point??) could stop “progressing” …”
She and her husband seemed to have a wistful experience. I can identify with that.
At one point we attended the 50th anniversary of the creation of the Lightening Class sailboat on the lake in Central New York where it was designed and created. There were well over a hundred of these boats sailing down the lake. I enjoyed the view and was glad that I had a chance to see this historic moment.
Then, at the foot of the lake they turned, and in the twinkling of the eye they threw up their spinnakers, the colorful forward sail designed to catch the wind and give them speed, and these more than a hundred boats came up the lake like a rainbow. It was spectacular and took away my breath. I don’t know anything about sailing, but I do know something about beauty. This was beautiful.
I suspect Betty and Mr. Betty (that’s really what she calls him) had a similar experience watching these beautiful boats head off for Bermuda.
In any case, it was cause for me to learn something new about sailing which, I am sure, will come in handy in some trivia encounter, or when I land a spot on Jeopardy. But even before that, I can picture myself standing, talking to new friends at a cocktail party. The conversation dips, and I jump in:
“Seen any interesting Heads and Clews lately?”
Where did all those people go?
Graphic Credit: Boy’s Manual
{ 3 comments… read them below or add one }
Betty,
That’s what this social medium is all about, isn’t it? We feed off each other and grow through those connections. I can’t believe I am responsible for instructing anyone in the fine craft of sailing, however. I have friends who would die laughing to hear that. Thanks for your comments. I decided to keep both.
Jed
Wow — thanks for mentioning me, Jed!!
Thanks for mentioning me, Jed!! Sailing terminology, to the extent I understand it, is certainly rich with history and metaphorical potential and (forgive me) clues, especially as they pertain to our experiences here in Rhode Island. Just for the record: “head to clew” isn’t an actual expression that I’m aware of. I also know nothing about the course sail; you’ve educated me once again on that score!! I simply couldn’t resist the opportunity for word play as I pondered all those clews disappearing over the horizon.