Have you ever screwed up a docking approach so much that you continue to ponder it for a few weeks afterwards? This one blemish seems to taint all the joy of the boating experience you had just moments before. Well, if you haven’t stopped reading, you can move to the head of the class. If you have and want a few more tips on docking, specifically when backing down into a slip around pilings, read on.

I was recently delivering a Grand Banks 52 Europa from the Chesapeake to Greenport, New York. The trip went well, the boat purred along, although we got slammed by a cold front earlier than we anticipated. The winds sustained 25 knots on the bow, with higher gusts, and seas were 5-6 feet with larger sets breaking on the bow. The boat took it in stride, although my friend Jack Bulger and I were basically up for 24 hours.

When I approached the dock, we were overly tired and I did not do the one thing that I always do. Figure out my game plan! Yes, the wind was blowing across our beam, but I’ve handled this situation in far larger craft multiple times. Every now and then a pilot has a hard landing, and I had a hard landing in Greenport. Had I paused, I would have followed the steps that should be innate.

One of the main issues was reduced visibility from the upper station. I could not see the stern beyond the tender and overhang. On my first approach I was backing in between two pilings, with a floating dock on the port side and a sailboat tied perpendicular in a nearby slip. I was reasonably on target and the approach would have put me in line to squeeze into the slip. However, I was completely blind and could not see the piling behind me. Because of the wind, and the windage from the high profile, I needed to jockey the throttles a little bit. At the last moment I bailed, losing my nerve about where the piling was in relation to our swim platform.

Then instead of following my normal mode of calmly sitting back and evaluating the situation, I tried several approaches and NEVER communicated to Jack what I was doing. He was running all over the boat, from side to side, trying to keep up with my on the fly situation. Perhaps all the caffeine I slurped down to keep me awake was affecting my system by making me a little nuts and unfocused.

In the end, I just parked her bow in, which you could rationalize made sense for this slip, allowing the owner to sit on the after deck and look out at the harbor, not the dock. But that’s only rationalizing. I’ve docked 80 footers with high winds and five-knot currents, with nice soft landings that have generated applause. This one was sad.

So in hind sight, what did I do wrong? The first mistake was not lying off in open water and talking to Jack about how we were going to go in. I know better. We went almost directly from pounding through large seas to a stressful docking situation, giving us no chance to really catch our breath. “I think it’s a portside tie, well, no maybe starboard,” I muttered over the howling wind. “Well I don’t know, just do both.” That’s all I said about docking a 90,000-pound boat in 30 knot winds!

The second mistake I made was running from the upper helm. First of all, the line of sight aft from the lower station was very good. Plus, I could also see the finger pier, which I could not from the centerline station on the bridge. This would have also allowed me to assist in the line handling. So, if you have two stations, go to the station that gives you the best line of sight. If you’re docking in unfamiliar or shallow waters, you may want to start at the bridge to see farther, and then jump down to the lower helm. Although dual helm stations are getting rarer these days.

Another misjudgment was not properly positioning the boat into the wind, placing her upwind of the slip (see diagram). There was not much room to maneuver in front of me. In hindsight, the proper maneuver would have been to reposition the boat by going past the slip, down to a small turning basin, and then coming back into the wind to start the procedure from there.

The diagram shows a little more room to turn the boat and position it into the wind, and then back down into the slip, being careful not to turn too much and exposing the bow. Know your boat and how it responds. Most likely, you’ll have to turn the boat for the approach (in this case to starboard) a boat length or so before you reach your slip. You’ll need to stop the headway by placing the engines in neutral, then putting the starboard engine in reverse with a goose of the throttle to kick the stern to port. The more you know your boat, the better judge of throttles and leeway you’ll become. The trick is if you go too slow, you can allow the wind to take the boat, and going too fast can cause injury and/or damage.

While backing down, monitor your sternway and set up the approach to be about a 45-degree angle to your slip. Again, I came down a tight channel with the wind behind me and thought I could muscle the boat around to place myself in this position. I was wrong.

When backing down, and positioned about 45 degrees to the slip, the final turn should be made slightly upwind of the slip. This final positioning will also depend on the wind velocity.

Finally, if your boat has a good rub rail, don’t be afraid to use it. Due to the tight quarters, high windage of the GB 52, and strong winds, I most likely would have been blown down on the port bow piling by the time we were entering the slip. This would have been just fine. With a spring, I could have used this piling to pivot the boat around.

Like anything we do on the water, practice does pay off, and it’s important that you knowhow your own boat maneuvers. I can make excuses all day long for my hard landing, but had I followed the above key steps, I could have left with my pride unblemished. And watch out folks, I may be coming to a dock near you!