Similarities between sailing and chess. A lived experience

Dear friends! Today I will narrate how I came to the world of sailing and its similarities with chess. I appreciate your comments. 
With my dad, since I was little, every summer we practiced in a two-person kayak and then we started alternating with individual kayaks. It's not sailing, of course, but water is water. You learn to read currents, to feel the wind on your face, to understand how the river behaves.

In a kayak, there's no boom to hit you, of course. But when you want to change direction quickly, you have to dig your paddle in decisively, turn your body, and paddle from one side to the other.

My father contacted an instructor from a Sailing School, and they told him that the approach was very practical. So he suggested doing some theory online to make the most of the sailing practice. Dad has windsurfing experience and gave me confidence from the beginning. He told me about the Wind Paradigm, sailing against the wind in a zigzag beat, and said not to worry because surely they would teach me the other points of sail first.

So we watched videos about: Basic Concepts and Theory, Reading the Wind, Points of Sail, Parts of the Sailboat, Basic Terminology, Fundamental Maneuvers, Safety and Knots, Right of Way Rules.

When we finished —Come here— he said —This is going to be the boom, a broom. And this —lifting the rope— is the sheet.

Dad set up a simulator with an armchair that acted as the boat, he was the wind and the mast moving the boom, and at the end the sheet was tied, and another broom was the tiller.

—Now —he said— we're going to practice tacks to avoid accidents with the boom.

So, he would push the imaginary broom from one side, and I had to duck just in time so the boom would pass over my head without hitting me.

Finally, the moment of truth arrived: the sailing school.

My instructor, a tremendous guy and teacher. Always present in everything we do on land and at sea with a support boat. From the first day, he made us do everything. You arrive, and the first thing you do is rig the boat yourself. The sail, the mast, the boom, the tiller, the centerboard. Everything. Then, you sail. And upon returning, you disassemble and store everything. The best part is that everyone helps each other; it's a great group of young sailors. When someone doesn't know how to tie a knot, someone else helps. When someone has trouble hoisting the sail, there's always an extra hand; it's great teamwork.

The first day I went out with the instructor in a Laser. I guess I was a good crew and not a sack of potatoes, because from the second day onward I went out alone in the Club's Optimists.

My instructor celebrates every success. And the craziest thing is that when I started doing my first tacks on the water, I realized something: my body already knew. I didn't think about it. The moment came, I heard the instructor's "tack!", and bam, I ducked like a spring. The boom whistled overhead, and I was already on a new course.

The other day, I sailed with my instructor in a Snipe; it was the one I was missing from the typical sailing school boats, with two sails, more technical, and requires teamwork (helmsman and crew).

I understood that the difference between a tack and a gybe is that in a tack you turn "the tiller all the way to the sail" (heading up), the turning curve is wider, and when you turn "the tiller all the way towards you," the curve is tighter, meaning you change course faster. Similar to what my father did in windsurfing, stepping on the board while simultaneously turning the boom, and in kayaking, digging the paddle towards the side you want to change course to.

After a few weeks of reaching, running, and broad reaches, we sailed on a beat and it was harder. I sat down with dad to tell him about my experiences. He said something that stuck with me: "Facu, what happens to you on the water is very similar to what happens in chess. And also to what happens in life itself."

Everything led to the following conclusions, after several meetings with dad, questions to the instructor, and a few more outings:

1. Reading the Environment
Watching the wind on the surface, the marks the wind makes as it arrives, observing flags, trees, the sails of other boats, the sea and the gusts that leave ripples on the water, your boat, your sails, and your course. On the board, I look at the position of the pieces, look for attack patterns, anticipate threats. In both cases, it's about detecting patterns before they become evident to others.

2. Anticipation On the water, you have to foresee wind shifts and the movements of other boats. In chess, it's the same: you don't wait for your opponent to attack you; you prepare the defense or the counterattack several moves in advance.

3. Stress Management
Both activities push you to the limit. When you're in a race and all the boats are close, or when you're in a game with the clock against you, the one who stays calm wins. A nervous mistake can cost you the race or the game.

4. Adaptability
Both chess and sailing require a great capacity to respond to changing situations. The wind shifts, the opponent changes their strategy. You have to adapt quickly, change the plan on the fly.

5. Spatial Perception
Sailors use spatial vision to position the boat strategically. In chess, you visualize the board, imagine future moves, calculate distances. It's the same mental muscle.

In sailing and in chess, I'm learning the most important thing: to read the wind, to read the opponent, and to read my own limits. That, you don't learn from any book. "Sailing is a tactical chess game where the pieces are boats and the environment is the wind and the water."

See you in  241+! This is the new animated wallpaper from the Global Citizens Club. It's like Dad says: "In 2026, 241+ will join the list of brands that sponsor sailing."