Docking Lessons  ounging in the sternsheets of our dependable catboat, watching freighters struggle uphill into Corpus Christi, it was  enticing to think how much grander life might be sliding down a meridian over that horizon's edge. Just a dream, but  a nice dream nonetheless. With eighteen feet of waterline, no matter how nicely making way, I'm not likely to see the edge  of ancient charts from our lovely Horizon Cat. L  Quiet coves and coastal getaways, not a problem in the right conditions. On lakes and protected water, I have the boat I  want, and she will take good care of me. The ocean won't mind if I try conditions beyond my capabilities or my boat's  design limits, but I think I'll be better off with a correct sense of perspective. Maybe someday on a more suitable ocean kindly craft, though, I'll bury the land behind me in a watery grave. In the  meantime I'm having a great time learning how to sail, taught by well-found vessels and good friends. I began that process  30 years ago, drifted away from the water, and have now seen that love rekindled. I'll not stray from sailing again. I think that sea-kindly cruiser will be something I rent. I sure don't want to be stuck without our lovely trailerable  catboats. My trip to Corpus was done with little in the way of planning. The nice thing about spontaneous trips is you have this  wonderful feeling of flexibility. The less nice thing is that you really better be flexible, not knowing exactly what you'll  encounter. Docking was the first challenge I faced. I rather botched an approach into my assigned leeward slip and would have been a  most unhappy camper had it not been for JimB's ready hand on the docklines. Sobering. Winds weren't that strong, but I let myself be thrown off like that. As it was about four in the afternoon when  Jim and Joan bid farewell, I decided to think a bit before I counted on myself to dock singlehanded. Posted By: CarlHaddick, Horizon Cat/Picnic Cat, Central Texas I started to cast off around 4:30, but without any really outstanding plan other than "don't scratch the boat" I held off. I  just didn't want to dock singlehanded, wind at my port quarter, and in the dark. That evening, a gentleman docked opposite me commented that when the wind swung and put his slip on the lee, he just  didn't go out. Too easy to really goof up. "Just rosy," I thought, so I asked at the marina about changing slips, an option  that might be available the following day. 6