Undeterred by Knowledge…
As a young, inexperienced sailor with a hefty dose of overconfidence, I set off on a journey to the Baltic Sea with a 7-meter steel sailboat. My choice of a steel hull with a preference for a wooden mast was inspired by the books of Eerde Beulakker, a Dutch writer who loved classic boats and despised everything made of “plastic.” Without a compass, we drifted slowly northward, and after a wrong maneuver, the mast went overboard. That didn’t shake my confidence in my sailing strategy, but it did shake my girlfriend’s confidence—in me, the boat, and the entire expedition. Her seasickness turned into “Ron-sickness,” and this mishap was the final straw.
It was an era without mobile phones or internet, and I was left figuring out how to get home from a small Danish harbor—with girlfriend and dog in tow. Staring helplessly into the clear water, I felt the dock begin to sway: next to me, a German, as wide as he was tall, was climbing aboard a Winner 11.20. I hadn’t even noticed the boat before—it was “plastic,” something Eerde Beulakker had declared utterly taboo.
Whisky, Flattery, and a Winner
Herman surveyed the chaos on the deck of my little steel sailboat, concluded there was nothing to salvage, and suggested sailing back to the Netherlands on his boat. Dangerous, I thought—surely polyester boats aren’t seaworthy! But Herman had already made it to the Baltic Sea via the Shetlands, and his Winner was stocked with whisky. It would take years before I truly understood how helpful people at sea can be and how cleverly Herman made me believe I was doing him a favor. He claimed he needed a second mate, and if I could get that little boat to the Baltic, I was the best candidate for the job. My young ego couldn’t resist such flattery, and the whisky did the rest. We slept off our hangovers and left the next day, later than planned.
“Sail, boy!”
My own boat had taken three days to travel the short distance from Oostmahorn to Cuxhaven. The elegant Winner got us from Cuxhaven, around Terschelling all the way to Makkum in less than two days. In my black-and-white youthful perspective, there was no better boat than the Winner. Beulakker was swiftly dethroned and replaced by Herman, and a plan was born: I needed a Winner of my own! The 11.20’s draft was too deep for my waters, but Herman knew the yard also built a 9.50 with a shallow keel. It didn’t take long to discover that this was far out of budget for a skinny guy with a towering student debt.
The Path to the Sea
My path to the sea took a different route. I sailed many centerboarders. I started a yacht charter business to finance it all. Later, I ventured into importing Allures and Garcia yachts, and now HH Catamarans. Yes, the latter are made of “plastic.” Nowadays, I believe that speed is one of the most important aspects of seaworthiness. Believe, because I’ve long since stopped being sure of anything.
They say your nose is a time machine. The scent of pencil shavings can transport you straight back to kindergarten, while the smell of a diesel engine brings back long-lost sailing vacations. But apparently, a single image can do the same. When I spotted a Winner 9.50 at the guest dock, I was instantly transported decades back in time. I could hear Herman grumbling about boats and which shipyards to avoid. I heard him say we could still go faster with the yellow-and-blue gennaker. In my mind, I saw him grinning as he noted that my theory about “plastic boats” didn’t quite hold up.
Whisky-Induced Confessions
I struck up a conversation with the skipper. Though well into his years, he had just completed a solo journey of several months. “Just short trips,” he said. “England, Shetlands, that sort of thing.” Did he bring any whisky back? He had. We raised a glass, and I told him about Herman and the Winner. The skipper confessed that the time had come for him to stop sailing. His knees were giving out, and his wife had her own thoughts on the matter. The temptation was strong, but I sail so often these days that it feels almost like work. There’s no room for an extra sailboat, no matter how much I’d love one.
Long Story Short
For sale: a well-maintained Winner 9.50 with a shallow keel. Preferably to a serious sailor who’s willing to bring along a bottle of whisky. Cheers to you, Herman, wherever you’re sailing!
Written by Ron Spoelstra