Basic materials (wood, varnish, cloth, rope, and metal) engineered into basic mechanics (mast, boom, sail, and block and tackle) and controlled with expertise produced a basic pleasure of gliding over water, directedly and silently.

 

Okay, so technically we were powered by an engine to get us to this point (there was only the slightest breeze on that day, insufficient to propel us very fast or very far), but we did have the experience of cutting the engine, deploying the sail, and moving by wind power.  It was profoundly quiet and time almost stood still.  The late afternoon sun bathed this rigging in a warm light, befitting and respectful of the noble pre-modern era to which it ascribes.  There was a deeply felt satisfaction of having achieved a unique harmony with our environment; we had harnessed a pervasive energy source to achieve mobility.  It was the seafaring equivalent to having gotten wheels.

 

Our Norwegian hosts gave us a beautiful and profound experience on this October afternoon.  Our coming together was a confluence of cultures, languages, talents, skills, and perspectives.  This sailing experience, better than any other I can imagine, spoke directly to that which was common to us all.  Through this experience, I was reminded of how human it is to engineer — to recognize a need, to make a goal of filling that need, to take stock of what is available, and then to apply knowledge, ingenuity, and inspiration to bend the available resources into achieving the goal, filling that need.

 

Since I was a young boy, I have had the mindset of a scientist, an artist, and an engineer.  The nobility of pure science and pure art have never escaped my view.  On this day, however, I gained a much-needed realization about the elegance of engineering — that, in its proud moments, engineering is dipping the brush of desire into the palette of science, and applying that brush with artistic strokes onto the canvas of human need.