11.11.1987

MOST LOCAL BOAT-OWNERS DON'T STRAY FAR

The most recent and macabre farce of international terrorism on the open seas sent a lot of journalists down to the Tel Aviv marina this week, where they heard a lot of stories.

There are basically two kinds of stories to be heard at the marina. There are the Israeli stories and then there are the stories told by those who actually sail around the world, rather than struggle half the morning trying to get out of the tiny, overcrowded harbour.

The Israeli stories are full of macho heroism, daunting near misses at sea, demands for the right to keep, at the very least, bazookas on board. That a former head of the Shin Bet happens to be one of those weekend sailors has not resulted in particularly improved security, nor has it resulted in an directives to the sailing public.

The other kind of stories one can hear range from satisfaction to frustration about the quality of the harbour. But the tale of how the marina could be a hand-over-foot money-maker and instead is an overcrowded boat warehouse is another story. Piracy, not the tourism industry, was in the headlines.

Of course, considering the sorry state of yachting tourism in Tel Aviv, because of price gouging, lack of facilities and the familiar foolishness of the local bureaucracy, it's unlikely that the seajacking-even if it was more than a bad comedy-would have harmed the marina. One long-time marina resident said that during the summer high season, no more than a dozen touring yachts dock in the marina. "It's a shame".

Of the several hundred registered boat owners, only about 20 actually live on board, and of those only about half have voyaged further than Cyprus or Rhodes. You have to go back to Noah, or at least tot he Phoenicians, to find an Israeli sailing tradition", said a veteran of Atlantic crossings, explaining both his criticism of marina conditions and why so few Israelis seem to take sailing more seriously than weekend showing off to impress friends, neighbours or clients.

In any case, yachties, as the veterans call themselves, are not exactly publicity seekers, fearing not so much the taxman as long lost relatives or friends of friends of friends, who after reading about a yachtie residing in the marina, will insist on inviting themselves abroad.

And that leads to the first rule of yachting, at least according to one such yachtie, who made his way here from the North Sea. "I never let anyone I don't want aboard", he said, "even if it takes force, I'll use force".

He quickly adds that he agrees with both arguments for and against keeping firearms on board, but he leaves no doubt that while he may prefer the pacifist approach, he's wise enough to know that out there, on the deep blue sea, the boat is extra-territorial, and, as captain, he's the law.

Piracy is not just Long John Silver. It can be coke smugglers looking for a quick unmarked vessel to make one run across the Caribbean and then be scuttled in the Florida Keys. it can be looters crawling off their Red Sea dhow and onto a temporarily abandoned boat trapped in the lapping waves of an uncharted reef. It can be Mafiosi off the Cicilian coast.

Ironically-and as probably should be expected-the Israel Navy umbrella that stretches from Port Said to the Syrian coast north of Lebanon, and from Tel-Aviv to Rhodes, keeps the eastern stretches of the Mediterranean somewhat safer than most. And that's why there was a lot of healthy skepticism, at least among the experienced sailors, when it was first announced that an Israeli yacht had been seized off the Gaza coast.

Piracy is what a sailor calls what happened somewhere out there to the hapless French cook and his waitress lover and her two kids and his brother and those two teenagers. But despite the headlines and even despite the headlines and even despite the assassination of three Israelis in the marina in Larnaca on Yom Kippur in 1984, "there's much more likelihood of getting killed crossing the street than there is of getting killed by pirates".

Taking precautions is simply part of sailing. The same way you don't go out when a storm is coming, you steer clear of boats that don't respond when you try to raise them on the radio. You try to keep Channel 16, the Mayday radio channel, open-which is somewhat problematic in the eastern Med, says one yachtie, what with people reading the Koran all night, or using it for Kaffeeklatsch.

In any case, though "people are obviously careful", true-blue sailors would never let terrorism get in the way of their lives. That's why they get out on the boats in the first place, to get away from a lot of the restrictions that those on land long ago learned to think were part and parcel of the natural order.

| Previous | Arithmetic of the Soul: Tel Aviv and the Intifada | Next |

Back to the top