In my line of work (software) some of us have adopted a methodology of work flow, a cunning concept that fills the void between what you want and what you have. It’s beautifully simple idea, but one that manages projects with both elegant simplicity, and down to earth realism. It’s called ‘agile development’, and it doesn’t just apply to software. It’s a powerful tool in any project managers arsenal, and can be applied to almost anything you can put a plan to.
The classic method of approaching a task, and the one which most people still think is best, is what you might term the waterfall method. This is an all encompassing blanket of comity-esque planning that starts at the top with the idea, and then trickles downwards until every single possible eventuality and requirement has been thought of. It’s the method people refer to when they say those infinitely regurgitated words; “Proper planning prevents poor performance”.
It seems like a good idea, doesn’t it? To know every detail of the path you’re about to walk before you even step foot upon it. It’s not! It’s a bad, bad idea, outdated, and silly for real life situations. To successfully reach a goal like that you must know about every single variable, and that’s just not possible I’m afraid. Heck, the goal might even change along the way.
The agile methodology applies some sense to it all. It’s an iterative development towards a goal, but even that goal is allowed to be flexible. You take a step towards it, then review what you have done, check you’re still heading towards the goal, and continue. If the goal changes, you’ve not lost the entire project. If you can’t go back and modify what you’ve done, you scrap it. It’s no big deal though, all is not lost, just a tiny portion of progress. Re-evaluate the situation, and move forwards accordingly.
I treat my entire life like this. My whole existence is an agile project. I have a rough idea of what I want to do and I head towards it. Take holidays for example. I’ve never been on a package holiday in my life. I couldn’t bear the thought of it. Having your assigned two weeks planned with meticulous detail. How utterly boring, and not to mention stressful when a plane is delayed, or a ticket lost. I start with an idea, a holiday. A few years ago I did just this, I wanted to go away for a long weekend. I decided Spain would be nice, and Barcelona was a place I hadn’t been to before. That was my goal. I took a step towards it and booked a flight to Girona airport, from Blackpool. On the plane I got chatting to a couple who were returning to their favourite holiday destination. They painted such a glorious picture of this place that I changed my destination. When we landed, I jumped in a taxi with them and headed off in a new direction, away from Barcelona, but still in Spain. I didn’t want to go to Barcelona any more, and my agile life allowed me this freedom.
It’s the same with sailing. You take your first step and plan your destination, then find out the tides and expected weather conditions, but as we all know the latter can and does change en route. Woe betide the sailor that ignores the weather and relentlessly follows their original plan.
And so I reach the point of this post. It’s an admission that my agile pursuit of a goal has been modified.
I’m keeping Kudu.
She’s been for sale since late December 2009. It’s now June 2010, and despite dropping the price to a ridiculous £2,500, I just haven’t sold her. On top of that Vreli has turned out to be much more of an undertaking than I wanted. I bought her expecting to make some relatively minor modifications, renew the essentials, and fit her out for going offshore. It’s turned in to much more of a project than that, it’s turned into a full scale boat build, and I’ve concluded that I don’t want to be a boat builder, I want to be a sailor. Sure, Vreli would arguably be the better sea boat, but she’s going to take more time and money then I’m willing to spend to achieve that, and with Kudu I know I have a sound boat. Corribee’s are proven little boats anyway; there’s one mid Atlantic as I write this!
I’ve ceased work on Vreli and have shifted my efforts to Kudu. Once Kudu is habitable again, I shall sell Vreli, and even though I know I’ll loose an aweful lot on her, it would be foolish to continue heading towards a goal I no longer have.
Kudu’s biggest drawback was her comfort. She’s small and lacks the basics of a comfy life. I’ve devised a plan to solve that. I’m installing a colorifier and related parts to provide hot and cold running water, I’m installing insulation, I’ve rebuilt a lot of the woodwork, repainted the cabin, have designed a small custom made fridge. I intend to make her the ultimate 21ft liveaboard. I’ve even made a new compression post out of stainless steel; I salvaged a scrap pushpit, cut off it’s original fittings and fashioned a base plate with an angle grinder, then got a friend to weld it together. It looks great!
The weather exposure will be tended to with a spray hood, and the accommodation constrictions will be remedied with a custom boom tent. I’m happy with this plan, this new direction. I never felt any bond with Vreli, not like I have with Kudu. She’s my boat and she looked after me. It’s time I repaid the favour.
Was Vreli a waste? Not at all. I’ve learned more about woodwork and marine engineering than I could have ever imagined. Vreli has left me with much knowledge, but she’ll have to wait for a new owner before she sees the water again.
