Forty-Three Rules that Separate Boat Captains from Being "That Guy"

Heading in to Zeke’s Landing for Fuel and Snacks

Don’t be “That Guy”

Our most-read pieces have never been about the fastest boat or the priciest reel. They’ve been about doing right — by the water, and by each other. Turns out there’s real appetite for good seamanship among Docklines readers, and that’s a fine thing to know about a crew.

The season keeps rolling, and I’d like to tell you everybody’s getting better at this. We both know the ramp says otherwise. There’s always some new fool at full throttle through the no-wake, some truck jackknifed sideways on the 4th of July. So here are a few friendly reminders to do the better thing — even when the boat next to you is planing straight through the anchorage. Let’s be the ones who set the higher standard.

1/ Prep in the staging lot, not on the ramp. Straps off, plug IN, gear loaded, lines rigged — before your trailer ever touches the water.

2/ If you can’t back a trailer, the Saturday of a holiday weekend is not the day to learn. Practice in an empty lot on a Tuesday. Don’t get “IN TOO DEEP”!

3/ You own your wake. Every dock it slaps, every boat it rocks, every kid it knocks off a float — that’s on you.

4/ The captain runs the boat. The fellow on the cooler does not require a vote.

5/ Idle means idle. “A little slower” is not a speed.

6/ Wave to the boats you pass. It costs nothing, and it means “I see you, and I’m holding my course” — or be like Forrest Gump waving from his shrimp boat. It never hurts to be friendly.

7/ Channel 16 is for hailing and mayday. It is not where you plan dinner. Make contact, then switch to a working channel.

8/ Never call a radio check on 16. Use Ch. 9 — the Coast Guard is tired of asking.

9/ Clip the kill switch to your body. It’s the law now, and a boat circling back on the people it threw is the worst thing you’ll ever see.

10/ File a float plan. Tell one person ashore where you’re headed and when you’ll be back. Not the Coast Guard — your momma will do.

11/ Pack it in, pack it out. A beer can over the side is unforgivable. So is a plastic bag, and so is a length of monofilament. Even an apple core belongs in the bucket, not the bay. The fish don’t need a chicken bone.

12/ The first boat on the sandbar sets the pattern. Everybody else matches it — same anchor, same swing.

13/ Idle through a raft-up. Throwing a wake through anchored boats full of kids and coolers is the cardinal sin of the sandbar.

14/ Sound carries over water. Your stereo or conversation is not as universally beloved as you believe.

15/ Don’t tie to a stranger’s boat without asking. Fenders out, ask first.

16/ Tip the dockhand who catches your lines and pumps your fuel. Five or ten bucks. Nobody’s getting rich on that dock.

17/ The fuel dock is a pit stop, not a picnic. Fuel, pay, and clear out before the line stacks up.

18/ Learn your draft and read the tide. Perdido Pass does not care what you paid for the boat.

19/ Don’t run between an angler and the bank, and never run over his lines. Swing wide and slow down.

20/ Kids under 13 wear the life jacket, underway, every time. That one’s not up for debate.

21/ Know your capacity plate. The Gulf chop will find every extra pound you loaded.

22/ BUI is DUI. Pick the sober captain before the cooler’s open, not after.

23/ Don’t scar the grass flats. Trim up, pole, or push off in the skinny water — those prop scars take years to heal.

24/ Learn the cleat hitch. Four minutes to learn, and it saves you every single time you dock.

25/ Carry the gear that’s supposed to be aboard — extinguisher, horn, flares, throwable cushion — check the expiration dates every March before the humidity sets in.

26/ Get a towing membership, TowBoatUS or Sea Tow. A cheap card beats a four-figure tow every time.

27/ Stop for the stranded boater. Aground, broke down, or swamped — you stop, or you stand by. You’d want the same.

28/ Slow down past the working waterfront. The shrimp boats and the boat lifts don’t need your wake.

29/ At Robinson and Bird Island, beach the perimeter and stay out of the interior. Those are nesting shorebirds, not a backdrop for your social media feed. Look the rules up if you are not sure. (https://orangebeachislands.com/)

30/ Honor the size limits and the seasons. A cooler of short reds is not a flex.

31/ Reef-safe sunscreen — zinc, not oxybenzone. And leave the aerosol spray cans at the dock. The wind blows the overspray across the gelcoat, making the deck slicker than ice. The bay’s enclosed, and it holds what you put in it.

32/ Don’t camp on the courtesy dock. Load, unload, and get out of the way.

33/ Keep a rag and a bucket for fuel spills. A sheen on the water is a jerk move and an EPA violation.

34/ If you borrow a slip, ask the dockmaster first. An empty slip is not an invitation.

35/ Quiet hours are real. After dark, kill the music and mind your voices — the whole harbor can hear you.

36/ The fishing guide knows more about this water than you do. Let him.

37/ Learn to read a channel marker before you learn to run wide open. Red, right, returning — and when heading west in the Intracoastal, it works most of the time.

38/ Bring more water than you think you need — for you, the crew, and the dog.

39/ Don’t crowd a man on a hot spot. There’s plenty of water and plenty of fish. Leave some for tomorrow.

40/ Rinse the salt off when you get home. Treat her right and she’ll run for you for years.

41/ Teach somebody. The kid who learns to run a boat right becomes the captain who does it right.

42/ If you misbehave on the water, own it at the dock. We all have a bad day at the helm.

43/ Be a good guest — tied up right, spending money, leaving it cleaner than you found it. That’s the whole point.

We’re deep into high summer now, most of it in historic heat, and everybody’s feeling it. It’s easy to lose your patience with the fellow who’s clearly seeing a boat ramp for the first time in his life. You can’t fix everybody’s cluelessness, so don’t stew on every infraction — and whatever you do, don’t race to the bottom and plow a wake through the anchorage to prove a point. Be the exception in a world that some days feels like it’s coming off the cleats. Out here, doing right by the water and each other is the whole game — and it starts with you.