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There are sailors who have unshakable confidence in their rightness. They know the rules. They know how to invoke them and can explain to you, with admirable confidence, why they had no reason to do otherwise.
On paper, everything looks perfect. On the water, it's sometimes a different story.
Because a boat doesn't just sail in front of a jury. It navigates among other boats, each with their own speeds, trajectories, and constraints?and, incidentally, with human beings on board. This reality sometimes requires looking a little further than the tip of one's bow.
Let?s take a perfectly ordinary maneuver: reducing sail area. Nothing could be more legitimate. Still, we must ask ourselves what this decision means for those sailing nearby. A change in course, a sudden drop in speed?and the situation can change in a matter of seconds.
That is precisely where the seafarer's craft begins. Not in reading the rules after the fact, but in anticipating what others may?or may not?do.
Of course, there are rules of right-of-way. Thankfully. But they are neither a magic shield nor a license to maneuver without regard for one?s surroundings. The RIPAM itself requires everyone to take the necessary precautions to avoid danger.
What really bothers me, deep down, is this temptation to confuse what?s right with absolution. It?s as if simply being in the right were enough to prove that one had made the right decision.
And when things go wrong, our first instinct can sometimes be revealing: even before asking ourselves what could have been avoided, we try to figure out who will have to pay.
The ocean deserves better than this blame game.
A good sailor is not recognized solely by his ability to hold his position. He is also recognized by his ability to give others room to maneuver.
