Ahoy, Matey!
This is the true tale of a seasoned yacht captain and his unseasoned first mate (me) and what was supposed to be, literally, a three-hour tour inside the Pamlico Sound from Belhaven to Washington, North Carolina.
It was a crisp but calm March morning, and we were taking our recently purchased yacht, Strange Magic, to a new marina. I insisted that I be the one to ride along with our professional captain. My husband agreed to take the car and do some work at the new marina while he waited for me and the boat to arrive. I waved a joyous goodbye to him as we pulled away from the dock. This was my first venture on a yacht in open water or any water for that matter. The engines were purring, the sun was coming up in a clear sky, and I was breathing in the clean, cool air. It was everything I imagined it would be.
As we left the marina waters and moved out into the sound, the wind picked up somewhat, and the calm water started to take on some personality. By the time we had covered 8 miles of the 24 mile trip, the sound was covered in small white caps and the wind was brisk, but we were making way, and the captain was serious but calm.
By the time we were two hours out, we had almost halted forward progress, and the Strange Magic was doing some very mysterious things — such as rocking impressively from side to side. In fact, it was rocking so violently that I asked the captain if I should get more life jackets. That was the only time I would see him chuckle all day.
It seemed to me that the wind was becoming stronger by the minute, but we had gone too far to turn back. Now we were making almost no headway against the wind and currents. The small white caps were now quite impressive. While the captain drove resolutely on, I sat near him on the deck, clutching the railing for what I thought was dear life.
Just when I thought things couldn’t get worse, I noticed smoke billowing up out of the companionway from below deck. When I yelled to the captain that we were on fire, he said those fateful words that a person who once paddled a canoe down a lazy river but had never driven a 22,000-pound, 40-foot yacht never wants to hear. “You have to take the helm. I gotta go below.“
“Me?” I shouted back at him, as if someone who knew what she were doing might magically appear. Realizing that he did, in fact, mean me, I literally crawled the four feet from where I had a death grip on the railing over to the captain’s seat. He gave me a 5-second crash course on steering a boat in gale force winds and went below to investigate why we were on fire. Just before he disappeared from view, he gave me a serious eye roll.
Fortunately, we weren’t on fire (something I think he knew all along), but one of our two, 424-horsepower engines had severely overheated while struggling against the wind and the waves. It had blown its radiator cap, so it was just steam that was filling the cabin, causing the alarms to go off, and pouring out the companionway. It wasn’t a fire, but we were now down to one engine, and it was running hot.
The captain said we had to stop and let our one engine cool. I was still at the helm when I think he slapped me three or four times across the face (just kidding) and yelled, “Do exactly what I tell you.” At which point, he ran down the length of the boat without holding onto anything while yelling, “Cut the throttle, steer into the wind, bring her to starboard, hoist up the main sails!” That’s when I realized I might have been hallucinating since we weren’t on a sailboat. Meanwhile, with the boat pitching and threatening to tip over on its side, he grabbed the anchor and hurled it off the bow. For a moment, I thought for sure that he was going overboard with it. About 10 scenarios played themselves out in my mind in about 5 seconds; they involved me trying to rescue him, sinking the ship, and finding myself in the turbulent, icy waters of the Pamlico. “Keep it headed toward open water,” he yelled, bringing me back to my senses.
As he disappeared below again, I did my best despite the fact that I had no idea how one went about keeping a boat headed in any direction. Before long, he was back up on deck, hauling in the anchor, which was even more dangerous than throwing it.
With the captain at the helm again we resumed our journey down the Styx on our way to Hades. Two more times, we had to throw out the anchor to let the one sputtering engine cool. We were getting nowhere fast and we had now been on the water for six hours! I passed the time by measuring the distance I would have to swim to shore, which had to have been at least two miles. I calculated that the waves were two or three feet high and that the water temperature had to be about 38°. I felt confident in my estimation because by now the waves were soaking us with each roll to port side.
Finally, I asked as timidly as one can ask when one is shouting over a gale force wind, “Do you think we’re going to capsize?”
“No chance,” the captain yelled. “Boats are made to stay above the water.“ I wondered if those were the last words of the captain of the Titanic.
On one engine, which by the way ended up running out of gas, the captain managed to limp us into an inlet where the water was somewhat calmer and where there was an empty dock that belonged to the friend of a friend. As we approached the dock with wind still gusting and water still slapping loudly against the hull, I didn’t care that we were either going to take out that dock or it was going to put a twenty-foot hole in the side of Strange Magic. However, speaking of magic, before I knew it, the captain had pivoted the boat 180° and slid it right up against that dock so gently I didn’t even feel a bump.
I wish that were the end of my adventure but a short while later our friends came to “rescue” us in an extremely powerful and fast motor boat. The driver and I sat in front while the other two men stood behind us. We were still more than 10 miles from Washington, but at 60 miles an hour, it was a short albeit terrifying trip. “In waves like this, you have to stay on top of the water,” the drive yelled in my ear. I didn’t care; I was being beaten senseless by the wind in my face and the jarring pounding we were taking as we skidded atop each white cap. By the time we landed, I could hardly walk; the ground beneath me was reeling, my legs felt like wet spaghetti, and my teeth were chattering — from cold or fear, I didn’t have a clue.
The first thing my husband, who for the last eight hours had been working in a comfortable office, said when he saw me was, “Hey, I’ve been trying to call you. What took so long?”
So, you are starting to wonder, what does this tale of adventure have to do with Beth Strange Strategy. She’s a strategist, so there’s got to be a strategic application.
This story about an inexperienced first mate and the veteran captain, which by the way would make a great TV series, does in fact make for a great analogy for anyone who is thinking of starting a business or who finds his or her business in rough water.
What if I had tried to make that trip without my captain. He had sailed the Atlantic from the Bahamas to North Carolina and beyond, had captained boats during some of the most intense fishing competitions in the world, and had studied the art of seamanship for years. I’m so grateful that he was my captain and that he told me exactly what to do when things went badly. He let me drive the boat, but he didn’t let me sink it. He provided me with the knowledge I needed to keep us heading in the right direction.
During my first entrepreneurial voyage, there were many times when I was sure my ship was going to sink, times when I did not know how to navigate through narrow straits, times when I desperately needed a captain to teach me the ropes and keep me on course.
I’m proud to say that through those disheartening entrepreneurial times, I gained invaluable experience. The hundreds of hours of studying business best practices and in applying them to my own businesses has led me to this: I want to help you make headway toward profit and peace of mind without going through the school of hard knocks.
Don’t be fooled, business is a perilous voyage and you will have to work to keep her afloat, but why fail or struggle for years when I’ve done that for you. Beth Strange Strategy will be your able seaman as you set sail on your business voyage. Whether this is your first go round or whether you’ve got your sea legs, everyone needs a captain who’s ready and able to help them navigate some of the rough water that lies ahead. Whether that’s understanding contracts or sales or scaling or leading a team, a captain who has been there and done that is worth her weight in gold doubloons.
Fortunately, you can get started without giving up any of your doubloons. Email me at Beth@BethStrange.com to discuss your Branding/Business/Performance Strategies
Bon Voyage!
Beth Strange
