Why the Humble Tender Deserves Respect

Most of us learn our boating in a tender, and most of us learn our hardest lessons there too. A nine-foot dinghy with a modest outboard has no ballast, no keel to speak of, and precious little freeboard, yet it carries the people you care about across cold water in a busy harbour. Weight shifts matter, the wind catches the bow like a sail, and a turning tide can push you sideways into a neighbouring boat before you have finished tying your shoelaces. The tender is not a lesser craft to be rushed. Handled well, it is the most civilised way to get ashore for a pint and a plate of chips.

None of this needs to be complicated. A bit of thought about loading, a few reliable habits on the oars or tiller, and a healthy suspicion of moving water will keep you out of trouble in nearly every harbour in the country.

Loading and Trim: Where Most Trouble Starts

A tender sits on a knife edge of trim. Every kilogram moved from amidships to a gunwale changes how she behaves, and a boat that feels stable at the pontoon can feel distinctly tender once you are away from something to grab.

• Load the heaviest person first and seat them centrally, roughly amidships. Never let anyone sit on a gunwale, a thwart edge or the bow locker lid.
• Pass gear and shopping down by hand or on a line. Do not throw bags aboard and do not drop anything onto the seats.
• Step in over the middle, close to the keel line, keeping one hand on the parent boat or pontoon until you are settled.
• Keep the painter coiled and clear. A loose rope under a foot on a wet sole is a capsize waiting to happen.
• Check the drain plug before you launch, and check fuel and the kill cord before you start the engine.

A good habit is to load the boat, then pause and look at her waterline. If the freeboard has dropped below about a hand's width, take a second trip. Nobody has ever regretted two crossings in a small dinghy.

Rowing: Strokes, Wind and Ferry-Gliding

Rowing is quiet, reliable and completely free of fuel worries, which is exactly why it remains the sensible default in tight harbours. The trick is to think about the whole boat, not just the blades.

Sit squarely, hands a comfortable width apart, and reach forward from the hips rather than curling your spine. Push with the legs and finish with a squeeze of the shoulders, then feather the blades flat on the recovery so the wind does not catch them. Short, brisk strokes in a chop beat long, deep ones that bury the blade and stall the boat.

Into wind, aim slightly upwind of your target and let the hull crab sideways towards it. With the wind behind you, keep the stern to it and row gently — the boat will run down towards your destination almost on its own. Against a cross wind, take the longer, sheltered side of the harbour if you can.

The ferry-glide is the rower's best friend when a current is running. Point the bow upstream or into the flow, hold the boat at an angle to the stream, and use gentle strokes to keep her there. The water does the travelling while you simply steer. Approach a pontoon or mooring the same way: bow into the current, and let it bring you alongside sideways with barely any effort at all.

Under Power: Throttle Discipline and Speed Limits

Outboards make short work of a long harbour, but they also make short work of other people's paintwork. Most harbour authorities post a speed limit — often four or five knots — and the reason is wash, not bureaucracy. Wash from a small planing dinghy can knock a moored yacht against her neighbour and swamp a rowing boat half a chain away.

Use just enough throttle to make steerage way. With a tiller-steered outboard, start the engine in neutral, check the cooling tell-tale, and engage ahead gently. Keep your weight forward so the bow does not dig in, and remember that the engine steers the stern: to turn the bow to port, swing the tiller to starboard.

• Practise stopping in open water. Learn how far she carries her way so that you can judge an approach properly.
• Approach moorings and pontoons into the tide or into the wind, whichever is stronger, and arrive slowly enough that a gentle touch on a fender is all that happens.
• Tilt the engine up when crossing shallow ground or coming into a beach, and know where the propeller is before anyone swims near it.
• Always wear the kill cord, and always kill the engine before passing a line or taking a person aboard.

Moorings, Pontoons and Other People's Paint

Coming alongside is the moment when a pleasant trip becomes memorable for the wrong reasons. The two golden rules are simple: arrive slower than you think necessary, and have the line ready before you need it.

Have a painter made fast to the bow and a stern line coiled ready, with a boathook in reach but stowed so it cannot trip anyone. Bring the boat parallel and a hand's width off, then step ashore with the line rather than jumping. Make fast the bow first, then the stern, then adjust so the tender sits clear of any fender or ladder that might chafe her. If you are tying to a fore-and-aft trot mooring, add a spring line so the boat cannot work forward and surge into her neighbour.

Fenders matter more than pride. A cheap fender tied on properly will save a repair bill and keep the peace with the boat alongside — and in a crowded harbour, quiet consideration travels faster than any gossip.

Tides, Currents and Coming Home Safely

Harbour water is never still. Tidal streams run hard past harbour mouths, eddies swirl behind pontoons and moored boats, and a falling tide can leave a slipway high and dry within an hour. Check the tide table before you leave, note the state of the tide on a wall gauge or ladder, and know roughly when the stream turns.

In a strong current, ferry-glide rather than fight — whether rowing or under power, point the bow upstream and let the water carry you across. Watch for crab pot markers, stray mooring lines and the wash of larger craft, and give way to anything less manoeuvrable than you are.

Finally, plan the return. Aim to arrive with plenty of water under the keel, leave a light aboard if you are coming back after dark, and make sure someone knows roughly when to expect you. Small boats forgive most things when they are handled gently and thoughtfully — and the harbour, with its chandleries and tea rooms and evening light on the water, rewards that care a hundred times over.