Few sailors have so well embodied the art of being a sailor than renowned rigger and longtime PS contributor Brion Toss, who died of complications from cancer on June 6 at the age of 69.

Brion dedicated his life to the art of rope, spars, and wire. His seminal book “The Rigger’s Apprentice” continues to be a favorite among cruising sailors today. Beyond his broad knowledge of sailing lore and his love for rigging puzzles, I’ll best remember Brion for his generosity and great sense of humor—puns and all.

Throughout his storied career as a rigger, Brion developed a rare ability to both inspire and inform. When you walked out of a Brion Toss seminar at Northwest Maritime Center, the outstanding educational center that he helped anchor in his hometown, you felt like you learned as much about life as you did about boats. Brion’s captivating presentations—some of which were later adapted into articles for Practical Sailor—were sprinkled with witty reminders that humans are funny, far-from-perfect beings, and the few who believe they are perfect sure aren’t very good at demonstrating it.

I got the feeling Brion could see what few people ever can. And after re-reading his work for Practical Sailor, I have my own theory why. Rigging problems demand near-perfect solutions, but the world is terribly imperfect place. Forever evolving as a rigger, Brion found a beautiful, good humored way to inhabit these seemingly contradictory worlds.

When he surveyed a rig from the deck, you could almost see his mind absorb the perfect world of angles and forces that kept the spar upright, and then you’d hear him laugh when he found the undersized shackle or toggle that someone had inserted and put the entire structure in jeopardy.

As he concluded in the introduction to Falling, a marvelous collection of essays he completed shortly before he died: “We are all dealing with gravity.” Brion dealt with it as an expert, better than any rigger I’ve met. He showed me how a joyful appreciation of tiny details and an eye for “following the load” can lift us to a higher plane, a place where even gravity isn’t a such a downer.

We miss you friend—puns and all.