TranspacBlogII-4
Command structure B. The net.

This is what it sounds like sailing Psyche.

"What do you think about loosening the outhaul some? The main seems too tight," asks Bill.
A beat while the crew considers the question. "I was just thinking the same thing," replies Steve.
"What's the windspeed now? " asks Jim. "We aren't pointing with our competition right now."
"5 knots, down a couple from 5 minutes ago," replies Andrew.
"Ok, let's do it," says any one of us.
Whoever is nearest the outhaul loosens it.
We all watch what happens.

"I'm thinking we should stay on port tack awhile; this time of year the wind usually shifts to the right in the afternoon; that would give us a huge advantage."
"No, our competition is all over on starboard tack, I think we need to stay with them."
"Ok, alright. We don't want to sail too far from them, but let's stay to the right of the fleet so that the shift will still favor us."
"Ok, let's wait 2 min and then tack."

On Psyche, information flows from the ocean, and wind, and sails, and the behavior of our competitors, to the sensory inputs of each of us. It gets interpreted, and then converted to words, allowing the other four sensory inputors (is that a word?) a chance to verify the same information, confirming or weakening the impression. Conversely, impending decisions flow like nerve impulses from any one of us, through the evaluation process of each of the rest of us. The proposed decision is weighed carefully by each crew, interrogated verbally; often creating a backwash of alternatives that must similarly spread to each of the crew to be evaluated; and finally, either embraced, or rejected. Decisions are made by consensus. If one of us doesn't quite buy the decision, we say "I agree we should make the move, but here's what I'm afraid will happen if we do this." That reservation becomes part of the ongoing information exchange, as the decision is executed.

You see, on Psyche, the entire crew is a parallel processor, an interactive net. We are like the world-wide web, kind of loosey goosey, but ultimately a surprisingly powerful way to make decisions. We really got into this groove in the 2005 Transpac, but it wasn't until after talking to other crew members that we began to understand that such a network command structure is very, very rare.

Now, how, you might ask could such a loosey goosey command structure come to be? Surely, Psyche, like most other ocean racers, is owned and operated by successful capitalists in the market economy that is the USA today. Yet here I am describing a system that sounds remarkably like communism! The answer to this puzzle seems to reside in the personalities of Steve Calhoun, Jim Barber, and me.

Steve is the owner of this beautiful Cal 40. She is his child. He pours attention and time and money into her. Psyche originally belonged to another Los Angeles Yacht Club (LAYC) sailor, Don Salisbury, who, besides racing and cruising locally, won the Transpac overall in 1965 with a crack crew. That race has become something of a legend (you may read my account of it in the 2005 Transpac Blog #4; http://www.layc.org/docs/BillyBlog.pdf). Don treated Psyche well, but nothing like the princess treatment she is getting now. It seems that there is a bit of a friendly competition going on at LAYC for who can have the finest Cal 40. Fin Beven's Radiant, and Jim Eddy's Callisto, and Psyche; all contenders in the 2005 Transpac; are in the front row of slips, and they are just beautiful creatures. Conquest and Melee round out the fleet (though they didn't do Transpac). Glistening topsides, flawlessly varnished wood trim, shiny rigging and winches, perfectly organized halyards, etc. I am always somewhat awe-struck by this kind of care, partly because I have a hard time doing it myself on my own boat (more on Siwash in future blogs). This beautiful maintenance is, of course, a direct reflection of these vessels' owners. On Psyche, Steve Calhoun's care of the cosmetic/aesthetic features reflects his unceasing attention to every single detail of Psyche. He has an almost obsessive desire to make this boat be better and better with every passing year of his ownership. The water maker has to be tested and retested. The electrical system and generator must be perfect, or we risk losing power. Not having power in a modern ocean racer is like not having a fuel injector in a NASCAR racer. The boat will still go, but you will be left behind. Just ask the crew of Radiant in the 2005 Transpac. They lost their power and fell steadily from second to way back. Attention to this detail is critical, but it is just one of an oppressive list of details that need attention in a successful Transpac vessel.

Now, although Steve's did not grow up racing small sailboats, like Jim and I did, his racing experience in large boats is substantial. Yet he really wants to win. Most importantly, he wants to have fun winning. That means he wants to have an integral role.

How does he do that? To his enormous credit, Steve has assembled a crew of equals. The first element of his crew is a smart, competitive, yet somehow miraculously self-effacing ocean racer. My admiration for Jim Barber knows no bounds. He is probably the coolest guy to have on an ocean race in the world. He has a great sense of humor, is very much aware of everyone else in the crew, and also wants to have fun. But he never, ever, stops making the boat go faster. He tunes and tweaks and worries all the lines all the sails, everything, constantly improving the performance of whatever boat he is on. One more significant detail; when he is tweeking, he is talking. Chattering up a storm about what he sees, and thinks. The final VERY significant detail: he listens.

Listens. What a concept. Don't think of your crew-members as a way to extend your ego. Think of them as collaborators in a competitive sport. A team sport. The more each crew member participates, the smarter we sail. The only way to insure that participation is to make each participant comfortable to contribute in any and all ways. How does Jim do that? He listens. He considers every hypothesis, no matter how crazy, or against his own view.

Why would such an accomplished sailor ever want to approach racing this way? Why waste time with some crazy idea from some upstart greenhorn with decades less experience than he has. This is a general question, asked by every veteran sailor in any ocean racing fleet. As I have intimated, most sailors don't answer that question in the same way as Jim does.

Instead, Jim's answer is, why NOT listen to that sailor's crazy idea? How is that wasting time? All we've got is time on an ocean race. Time to explore every new idea to its core. Time to give every participant a sense that his idea just might be the one that wins the race. Time to make everyone else grow accustomed to thinking hard about every idea that comes up. Jim really does see the entire crew as a resource, but not in the way that Mean Andy Green did (previous blog). Mean Andy Green wanted his resources to be ultra-tuned to Mean Andy Green, thereby improving their responses to his orders. Andy saw, Andy decided, Andy ordered, the crew obeyed. On Psyche, everyone looks, everyone sees, everyone talks about what they see, everyone discusses the decisions. Ideas are aired, some silly, some crazy, some brilliant. I submit that this kind of a net, if properly practiced will almost always beat the hub. That is because the net, if it is well tuned, will find the best solution to virtually any problem.

So how did I (Billy) contribute to this command structure, that is perhaps just crazy enough that it just might work? I can't tell for sure; I like many in my generation, have a deflated sense of my impact on the world; but I will grant that I was probably critically permissive. This is science-speak for "it wouldn't have happened without me being there encouraging it, but by no means did I cause it to happen."

Finally the bottom line on this diatribe (apologies to those that want more salt water and less salt): This net command structure is just plain fun. Experiencing it is like those rare occasions at a party when some boor isn't dominating the conversation; rather a cluster of friends suddenly starts building on a crazy riff that comes out of nowhere. Perhaps a joke cascades into a kind of temporary social memory that gets born by laughter into its own intensive life. Such an ephemeral riff can live and breathe; it dances over the crowd, a wonder to behold, spontaneous, forever surprising, and profoundly human. It is hilarious and light. It is thought provoking and deep.

This is what sailing on Psyche is like. I can't wait till we do it again.