Are You a Helm Hog?

I have a confession to make. It’s an issue that has been bothering me for a while, and I’m finally ready to admit it. I’m a helm hog.

Now that I’ve said it, I’m also ready to do something about it. And, whether you know it or not, you likely should be joining me.

Like many cruising couples, my wife, Dori, and I spend hours or sometimes days underway. During these long runs, I spend considerably more time at the helm than she does. It’s a situation that, if I’m honest about it, isn’t good for either of us.

Both of us enjoy our cruising life aboard, but it’s pretty evident that I enjoy the act of operating the boat more than Dori does. Not that she’s unwilling to take her turn; she happily takes the helm when I need to do an engine-room check or use the head. On our overnight runs, I fully trust that the boat is in good hands while I get some sleep. The problem is that outside of the overnight hours, we are not intentional about setting times for each of us to be at and away from the helm.

Piloting a cruising trawler is more taxing than you may realize. Most boaters underestimate the level of multitasking required to operate the boat safely. You have to maintain course, communicate on the VHF radio, look out for intersecting vessel traffic, monitor depth and navigational markers, time your speed and distance to bridges, pay attention to guests and crew, watch the weather, monitor the boat’s systems and many other things, frequently, all at the same time.

A person can only maintain an acceptable level of alertness for a limited amount of time, as studies have shown with airline pilots, surgeons and long-haul truck drivers. Attentiveness does not come from a bottomless well. It is a finite resource that requires time to resupply. Your ability to be alert and attentive is so valuable, you could imagine it being a pound of gold. Everything you do on the boat requires paying out some of it.

Think about how some of that value is diminished in ways you may not have considered. Maybe you’re doing a pre-departure checklist when you find a little water in what is normally a dry bilge. It takes time to find the loose hose clamp on one of the seawater pump hoses. Give up an ounce of gold.

After firing up the engine, you are nearly ready to back out of the slip when you see the yacht club’s instructor towing all of the young sailors out for sailing camp. Now you’re worrying about whether you’ll make the 8 a.m. bridge opening. Give up two more ounces of your precious gold.

Finally, you are clear of the slip and ready to exit the marina basin, only to be held up by a tug and barge motoring slowly down the waterway. Not only will you miss the bridge opening, but it is closed for the next hour. You haven’t even left the marina, and three more ounces of gold have turned to dust.

You’re finally through the bridge and heading for open water, but during the delays, the tide fell, and you now have to navigate around the shoal at the inlet with barely enough water at low tide. Two more ounces of gold just melted away.

And, once you leave the protection of the jetties, you run into a fog bank hanging just offshore. Three more ounces of gold disappear into the mist.

Granted, this is an extreme collection of unexpected delays, but even if only a few of these issues pop up, you will have exhausted a significant amount of your valuable ability to pay attention.
If a day comes when all of the planets align against you, then your ability to maintain situational awareness will be significantly depleted. This is when accidents happen.

Anyone operating a boat over long distances is subject to vigilance decrement. It’s the decline in performance over time during tasks that require sustained attention or vigilance. In a 2008 study, researcher Joel Warm at the University of Cincinnati explored the phenomenon in radar surveillance of air traffic controllers. He found that key characteristics of the vigilance decrement include decreased sensitivity, fatigue and boredom, which ultimately lead to performance variability and increased errors.

The vigilance decrement has practical implications in any activity where sustained attention is crucial, such as with boaters cruising busy stretches of the Intracoastal Waterway in peak migration season. The Elizabeth River from Norfolk, Va., is a prime example of this, with so much military, commercial and recreational traffic navigating the same waters.

Long offshore runs can seem easy, especially if the boat is on autopilot and there is little vessel traffic around, but according to Warm’s research: “The vigilance decrement function has also been considered to result from a decline in arousal brought about by under stimulation.”

An example: You’re offshore on a calm day, the autopilot is doing its job keeping you on course, and there are no crab pots around. This experience should be stress-free, requiring less of your attention. It’s easy to let your mind wander during these times. You might be tempted to talk on your phone or use other electronic devices. The quiet times, and your attempt to fill them with something stimulating, can increase the vigilance decrement.

Researchers and practitioners say the most successful solution to this problem is adding breaks or personnel rotation. It’s the latter that interests me. Said another way, it becomes: “Honey, will you please take the helm for a few hours?”

Even if you don’t feel like you need a break, your ability to
concentrate can suffer without you being aware of it. We’re implementing a policy aboard Liberdade to be more intentional with this, to find a better balance of time we each spend at the helm. And yes, this means I’m going to be less of a helm hog.  

This article was originally published in the February 2024 issue.