Quiet Excellence: Lessons in self-leadership on the ship and beyond

Bonny holding it together in 18’ seas whilst the rest of us are puking off the leeward side. Photo by Jeff Schell.

You’re still half-asleep by the time you’ve wiggled into your foulies, scarfed down midrats, and made it to the quarterdeck to hear your first night-watch assignment. It’s the top of the hour. And you’re on boat check. 

Semi-deliriously, you start at the bow and make your way down the familiar contours of the vessel…a floating international country… a most peculiar place to enroll for the perfunctory “study abroad” semester. Are the lines properly coiled? Is the engine running right? Nothing is on fire? With lingering sea-sickness, your stomach gurgles at the prospect of sinking low into the belly of the boat where beneath the galley you must make sure the refrigerator and freezer are set to the right temperatures.

I’m sure they are, you assume, jotting down the same numbers everyone’s listed before. No one will know, after all, except for you. 

Let this be a lesson in the many ways the ship can teach you self-leadership.

Bow watch at sunrise. My favorite place to be.

Almost four years ago I stepped on the Corwith Cramer in San Juan, Puerto Rico and spent the next six weeks experiencing the adventure and growth-spurt of a lifetime. I created a short documentary about our passage, Where The Water Takes Us, and since then, have worked full-time as a documentary filmmaker and writer, earning the privileged perspective to spend time with exceptional people across extraordinary places to explore what makes them so unique. I’ve dived into the stories of those who’ve chosen to commit to a life from from the beaten path: from ocean rowers to big wave surfers; tall ship captains to cattle ranchers—and a wide array of characters in-between. What I’ve walked away with is an unexpected education on what it takes to be a leader: learning first how to lead yourself.

After countless hours observing and teasing out the behaviors and lifestyles of those who push their limits, those who tip-toe toward the far edges of human capacity, who work hard, diligently, silently, and let the results of that work speak for itself, I’ve coined a phrase to encapsulate this particular brand of self-leadership: quiet excellence.

Quiet excellence is the standard you hold yourself to when no one is looking. Quiet excellence is a standard of excellence, in all things, at all time, for no outside reward other than your own self-respect. It’s an understanding of the true meaning of integrity for the sake of integrity and the discipline and accountability owed firstly to yourself.

Life evokes our character. You find out more about yourself as you go on.
— Joseph Campbell

It is demonstrated in how you fill the log book when no one is looking; how accurately you’ll report the weather; how thorough your boat check really is. It’s an understanding that how you lead yourself in private is how you will lead others in public.

An ecosystem where everyone strives to hold themselves to their highest standard begins with the standard level each one holds themselves. The higher the standard, the higher the achievement. Not only is that an efficient place to be, but when the well-being of everyone on board your ship is at stake, when their lives (and yours) depend on it, there is little room to compromise.

If I could do it over again, if I could step aboard Cramer for the first time, knowing I was about to embark on a profound journey of self-discovery and self-discipline, I’d challenge myself to know the answers to these questions before my first two-six-heave:

Why am I here?

What do I want to change?

How am I going to do it?

The ship, after all, is a special kind of catalyst. It’s an intense environment where you’ll feel the highest highs and lowest lows and not much in between. Everything is amplified at sea. Your weaknesses but also your greatest strengths. Embrace it. Be conscious of the changes you want to make in yourself, because by the time you come alongside for the last time, you will find yourself nowhere near where you started. 

And only you will know the difference.

The SSV Corwith Cramer, in all her 136’ of beauty, moored off Samana Bay in the Dominican Republic.

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