Over the years, 48° North has decked the hulls with a variety of boating related yuletide joy. Since it’s that season again, we’re digging into the vault with some stories of holiday’s past to help get you in the spirit. 

From the December, 2020 issue of 48° North

To the tune of “Jingle Bells”

(verse)
The pressure’s dropping low,
And sun lights up the sky.
They say it’s gonna blow,
So let’s go for a ride.

Well, sure, it’s Christmas Eve,
The fam will understand.
With breeze like this you best believe,
We couldn’t stay on land.

(chorus)
Oh, Jingle Sails, Jingle Sails,
Quick cast off the lines.
Fenders up and foulies on
It’s Christmas sailing time.

Oh, Jingle Sails, Jingle Sails,
High-five, I’m full-send.
Heavy air, without a care
With all my sailing friends!

(verse)
Cruising down the waves,
We’re readying the chute.
It’s blowing dogs off chains,
The crew lets out a “Woot!”

The mastman jumps the kite,
Helmswoman’s at the wheel,
The trimmer hauls with all his might
And the boat begins to heel.

(chorus)
Oh, ease the sheet, ease the sheet!
We’re going to wipeout.
“Blow the vang, you idiots,”
The skipper gruffly shouts.

Oh, ease the sheet, ease the sheet!
Hang on for dear life,
We’re broaching, let the halyard down
And please don’t tell my wife.

(verse)
Things are calmer now.
We’re cleaning up the deck.
The spray flies past the bow,
Man, this is fun as heck!

Here comes a gnarly puff,
It’s rumbling toward our kite.
The seas are looking mighty rough,
My butt cheeks clench up tight.

(chorus)
Oh, sheet it in, sheet it in,
We’re up on a plane!
Oh what fun it is to sail
In winter gales again.

Oh, sheet it in, sheet it in,
“Drive up on this wave.”
The bow just submarined once more,
That was too close a shave!

(verse)
Our downwind sleighride’s done
Dang, upwind sure is cold.
Are we sure this is fun?
It’s like the damn North Pole!

I’m frozen on the rail,
My fingers have gone numb.
I don’t want to stay under sail,
I want Hot Buttered Rum.

(chorus)
Oh, Jingle Sails, Jingle Sails,
How does Santa cope?
With wind chill setting record lows
He might just say, “Uh, nope!”

Oh, Jingle Sails, Jingle Sails,
Santa’s job ain’t fluff:
A nightwatch all through Christmas Eve,
That old salt sure is tough!