The top side of Traveler has a lot of moving and non-moving parts, many of which are common to most sailboats.
I like to think that these parts fall into one of two categories: 1. Soft parts. 2. Hard parts.
In the soft parts category, we have sails and ropes (referred to as "lines" on a boat).
In the hard parts category we have winches, a mast, a boom, cable rigging, cleats, stanchions and much more. I too often painfully rediscover some of these when moving about the deck in bare feet.
In each category there are fixed parts and moving parts. The sails and most lines are moving parts, although a fast moving line instantly transforms to a hard part the moment it makes contact with a human.
Most items in the hard parts category are fixed, with the dangerous exception of the aptly named "boom." I can't verify this, but I'm guessing that the most common and severe head injuries sustained by sailors are from a swinging boom.
Which leads to the topic of safety. Sailing and living aboard a boat presents the constant potential for injury, especially from the moving parts. And let's not forget that to complicate all of this further, the boat itself is almost always moving.
The expression, "One hand for you and one for the boat," is a reminder to always hang on to a fixed object as you're moving about or working on deck.
It's difficult to find any other residential circumstance that can compare in regard to the challenge of staying safe . If I am injured at home by a hard part, such as a wall, a table or a Lego, then I'm clearly not paying attention. Even a motor home, while underway, is moving, but the soft and hard parts inside are not, relative to the people inside, that is.
Much like rock climbing or mountaineering, sailing requires a constant awareness of potential risk and a predetermined strategy to avoid injury. Given his extensive experience as a mountain guide, perhaps no one I know is more aware and practiced at calculating risk than Ned.
Yet even he fell victim to the unexpected.
It was sometime between 8:30 and 9:00 pm. Ned was on solo watch and following our agreed-upon night watch safety protocol. He was wearing his life jacket, which was securely tethered to the fixed steel ring above the cockpit compass housing. Traveler was moving well at 6 knots, propelled by 15 knot winds under a star-speckled evening sky.
Ned was navigating a beam reach on a port tack, which means the wind was moving from left to right, perpendicular to our 98º compass heading. A beam reach port tack also means that the sails, both jib and main, were flying off the starboard side of the boat. Most importantly, this also positioned the mainsail boom to starboard.
At the moment it happened, Ned seemed to be taking every precaution. He was standing in the cockpit facing starboard. With the wind coming from port, all the critical moving parts were to starboard and well in sight.
I can imagine that Ned was enjoying one of those wonderful sailing moments when the boat is moving well under full sails at a good yet comfortable speed, enhanced by the soft sounds of wind against the sails and water lapping against the hull.
Then suddenly, WHAM!
Ned sustained an unexpected blow to the back of his head.
When I climbed on deck to relieve Ned of night watch, he told me what happened. I said, "Wow, what was your reaction?! He said, "I was startled and confused, and so was the fish!" Apparently, a flying fish leaped from the water, ricocheted off Ned's head and landed on the cockpit seat. I suspect the flying fish was also quite startled and confused, especially since, I imagine, the world of a flying fish features very few hard parts, which, by the way, is not a commentary on Ned's head. Unable to grab the slippery and wildly flopping fish, Ned proceeded to scramble down the companionway, grab a cooking pot from the galley, dash back to the cockpit, scoop up the fish and fling it back to its home.
I suppose the moral of the story is, when sailing, expect the unexpected.
Meanwhile, I must admit, I am a bit envious of Ned's encounter. He now has a great story to tell.
And so does that flying fish.
What a story! Didn't the Kon Tiki sailors subsist on flying fish that landed on deck?