Time....on the water.

[Bepi]

Imagine you and I were driving along the coast and I decided to make a left turn and drive us off the end of a pier into the ocean. What happens when we hit the water? Panic, as we struggle to exit the vehicle. Now imagine we have done it twenty times in a row. On the twentieth attempt what happens? At that point we are experts and I might suggest that you go first and you might suggest that it is I who must accept the honor. In the first instance there is no time to spare, in the twentieth there is all the time in the world. Why? Competence. This is applicable in our daily lives as the less we know on any given subject the more we freeze up and look for guidance, or assistance.
It applies to sailing as well. When I first attempted anchoring, there was no time, now I seem to have all the time in the world. My first crossing to Santa Catalina Island was a never ending, white knuckled, terror-fest. But my recent crossing, my twentieth in fact, was under reef in 18knts steering mainly with a tiller clutch and I had not a care in the world.
But what happens when long distance sailing? What shortening or lengthening of perceived time occurs between your first long passage and your tenth, or twentieth, or first squall, or large swells, etc. ?

 

[Sean Engle]

But what happens when long distance sailing?

Sounds like a question for @Christian Williams and our other blue water folks... =)

 

[Christian Williams]

It is always new to me, the psychological stuff. The ocean's the same, but we're not.

It would take many pages to assay the time question, but a good sense of it is in my Hawaii chronicles.

 

[Pete the Cat]

I think it does become easier offshore as time goes on psychologically in the same way. Becomes mechanical and logical--not as much need for analysis--less fear. Truthfully, some of the excitement is traded off for drudgery of preparation for challenges that may or may not come. As I became better at anticipating what might happen, the efforts became more routine and my attention was less about apprehension and more about just the physical demands of preparing to meet the challenge. As I am getting older (I have had a triple bypass and advised not to sail alone--which I cheerfully ignore) my newer apprehensions are not about anything the sea can dish out, but my own basic strength to respond to the tasks required. I am much more likely to reef early, have an intense weather eye, and alter course for comfort, than a few decades ago when offshore. I think I appreciate the beauty more now because I spend less time analyzing and fearing. FWIW.