Sol Mates
Rob Forbes | 08-20-2021
“Friendship is the hardest thing in the world to explain. It’s not something you learn in school. But if you haven’t learned the meaning of friendship, you really haven’t learned anything.” — Muhammad Ali
In September a couple of years ago the four of us were motoring around the southeast coast of Mallorca. Our boat, Sol, is a traditional wood-framed fishing boat - a llaüt - hand built from the island’s local materials in the mid 20th century. She stands out as unique character in the Portocristo Harbor where she resides. Most of the other residents are sailboats and power boats built for recreation.
Sol was born here. She belongs here. That’s a quality and character that most recreational boats that are designed for elegance or efficiency or speed simply don’t possess. Most modern boats would be considered “international style” in designer parlance. Not Sol. She is as local as the Jamon Iberico and Estrella beer we pack along. You head out into the sea feeling grounded and drenched in Mallorcan culture and tradition, drawing a few stares from curious onlookers.
Sol was designed for fishing, not for fun. She’s a workhorse, powered by an inboard engine that creates a pleasant underground hum and vibration. You hear it, feel it, like a heartbeat as you sit on the deck. Sailor purists might find the sound annoying as it detracts from nature’s acoustics of waves slapping a hull or wind riffling in the sails. Fair enough. But I find it comforting.
The hum reminds me of my first car, a 60’s VW Bug with an air-cooled rear engine. It was comically loud by auto standards even back then. But the rumble was part of its personality and charm, an integral element of the machine. It never let you take your engine for granted. Some clever engineer and team conceived of the efficient system to help make cars affordable for the masses. So what if it was a little noisy? Like Sol, it was an example of 20th mid-century modern design – efficient, no superficial decoration, pragmatic, and pretty cute in hindsight. (Adolf Porsche and Germany usually gets credited for the design of the Beetle, but the original concept should be credited to the Hungarian Jewish mechanical engineer Josef Ganz with a design that dates back to the late 1920’s. Ganz took on the legacy car industry and published articles challenging traditional outdated heavy unsafe cars. He became a Nazi target under Hitler’s anti-Semitic government and was arrested by the Gestapo in 1933 based on falsified charges of blackmail of the automotive industry. He was forced to flee Germany in June 1934. Hitler then assigned Ferdinand Porsche to bring the affordable car to market.)
While a humble blue-collar piece of naval design, Sol’s hull has sexy curves, satisfying proportions: good bones. She is purely herself, and would not feel comfortable painted any color but white. She has two solid wooden posts crafted from local timber that hold a horizontal sail-like structure that is there to provide shade rather than to propel the boat.
Sol’s speed maxes out at six knots, slow compared to almost any other power boat. But what Sol lacks in speed she gains in agility. You can get in and out of the numerous small rocky coves and narrow inlets that make up the Mallorcan coastline and explore places that most other recreational sailors will never experience. Her stability serves you well when you want to flop overboard to swim or make lunch or sprawl in the sun. Capsizing is not part of Sol’s vocabulary.
Heading back after a day trip on Sol, my Basque pal, out of the blue, asked me “do you know why we are such good friends? I had no answer.
Much of my professional writing has been about man-made stuff - boats, cars, chairs, tableware, houses, almost any modern object. And I have written much about designers too, usually dead ones. They are not friends. But I rarely write about the people I know, my friends, who matter a lot more to me than objects. Why is this? Why is it easier to write about inanimate objects we love rather than the people we love?
We four Sol-mates have little in common, except that we are all about the same height. Our ages range some 20 years. We have different sexual orientations. We grew up in different countries speaking different languages. Shared interests in design, art, food, travel, brought us together twenty years ago, but these shared interests are common to many of us. They do not explain deep friendship. It is not what has kept us together over the years. What does?
It’s not only Muhammed Ali who has puzzled over this subject: Plato, Proust, Oprah, Euripides, Audrey Hepburn, lots of people have given it thought. But their explanations mostly peck around the edges. Deep friendship is elusive. Help me out here if you have insights.
It may be futile-analyzing friendship. But at least it gets me to Mallorca this year of Covid/Delta. My sailor pals also do amazing affordable charters around the Balearic Islands and Greece. If you are interested send me a note .