“Dear Mr. Parkinson: I’ve been a loyal Cruising World reader since the beginning.” 

Since the day I began at the editor’s desk almost three years ago, I’ve probably received more than two dozen letters from readers that started with these exact words. Naturally, when a letter from a reader leads with the phrase “since the beginning,” I tend to sit up a bit straighter in my chair, set down the coffee, and pay close attention.  

Still, I couldn’t fully appreciate the gravity that those words carried until this magazine snuck up on its golden anniversary and I took a deep dive down memory lane. 

For fun, I’ve been spending my nights and weekends this summer combing through 18 boxes of Cruising World archives dating back to the very first issue. Fifty years ago, an Aussie sailor named Murray Davis launched Cruising World on a shoestring budget and a whole lot of hope. It was a new voice for the cruising sailor dedicated to the great life afloat that came at a time when racing competition largely carried the headlines. 

For me, those early issues of Cruising World offer a fascinating snapshot of a time that feels both familiar and distant. As I turned fragile page after page, I was struck by how much has changed about cruising over the years, yet how much remains the same. 

Back then, gear was as basic as it gets. A compass, a paper chart and a healthy dose of seamanship were all you really needed to set sail—well, that and a boat of course. VHF radios were a luxury, and the idea of a GPS was pure science fiction. We’ve come a long way, but the core of the magazine has always remained the same. It’s about the journey itself, not just the means or the destination. 

I can’t say I’ve been a Cruising World reader since those early days—I was still a twinkle in my mother’s eye back when the magazine was born—but I sure remember the day I became one. I was 10 years old and really into sailboats at my first Newport International Boat Show back in ’86. My eyes were as wide as winches. We didn’t come home with a boat, but we did sign up for a subscription. 

Those first issues arrived in our mailbox like a lifeline to a kid dreaming of what lay beyond the breakwater of our local inlet on the Connecticut shoreline. I wasn’t cruising yet. Just the son of a sailor dad, but the articles about how to sail and all the faraway places you could go once you learned ignited a fire that’s never really gone out.

When my parents finally took the plunge into sailboat ownership in the ’90s, the tech revolution was just beginning. VHF radios, wind instruments, depth sounders and GPS were standard accessories. Yet, I rarely met a serious cruiser who didn’t have a sextant, either on board or back at home.

While I appreciate the comforts of modern cruising, I imagine that there’s a large contingent of longtime Cruising World readers who still yearn for the simpler days. I get it. Yet, change is inevitable. It’s hard to deny the allure of technology when it comes to safety and efficiency. As long as we remember the core skills of seamanship, these advancements can only enhance our cruising experiences. And as you’ve probably noticed, the way we cover them has evolved significantly as well.

Friends, with our October 2024 issue, the Cruising World brand is 50 years strong. It seems like an eternity, and at the same time, for many of those “since the beginning” readers, probably fleeting. In my time here, I’ve found that the true lifeblood of this magazine has less to do with names on a masthead, and more to do with our extraordinary community of cruising enthusiasts, contributors and readers who fuel it—lending each issue their technical expertise, their tales of adventure, and their shared love for the cruising experience.

Through all the years, we’ve met some neat people and heard some incredible stories. With your enduring passion to wonder and wander, I’m eager to see what the next 50 years will bring.

One thing’s for sure: The journey will be the adventure.

The post Gold Standard: <i>Cruising World</i> Turns 50 appeared first on Cruising World.

After six months aboard their 47-foot Bruckmann, Althea, Brad and Cara Read are returning to land life—with some reluctance. Sailing back into Rhode Island’s Newport Harbor, Brad thought of the French sailor who, instead of claiming victory in the 1968 Golden Globe Race, ­decided to keep sailing around the world. “Would I have done the Bernard Moitessier thing and kept going? I think I would have; I like living on a boat. But we had to go back to work.” 

Cara, who spent her teenage years living on her parents’ cruising boat, is more practical: “I would have extended it for maybe two months, just because it’s cold here.”

 The Reads are lifelong sailors and marine-industry veterans. In six months, they logged 5,000-plus miles, mostly on their own, clockwise around the western Atlantic. 

They definitely weren’t quite ready to become liveaboards in 2019, when Althea went up for sale. Brad has been Sail Newport’s executive director for more than 25 years, and Cara calls herself “the bookkeeper” for several small marine businesses. But the boat’s previous owner made them an offer they couldn’t refuse, so they bought a boat that was more than they really needed in and around southern New England. 

Three years later, a good friend died—and that sparked this sabbatical. “We did it because we’re young enough, healthy enough now,” Cara says. “But we’re not in any position to retire.”

Thanks to Starlink, both were able to stay in touch with their jobs. “It changed our world,” Cara says. When they weren’t offshore, she worked about 10 hours a week—or more when hunkered down, waiting for a storm to pass. 

“It’s really hard to leave cold turkey and then come back,” she says. “And the more you work away from the office, the more efficient you get, especially when there’s a carrot at the end like, ‘I want to go snorkeling.’”

Getting Ready

Before heading south, they made several upgrades. Brad says that the three most important were a watermaker, autopilot and furling inner forestay.

“Double headsails was one of the most important and smartest things we did right,” he says, adding that they call the smaller headsail “Cara’s sail.” 

“Brad loves the big sails because he likes to go fast,” Cara says. “But down in the Caribbean, staysail and full main or even a reefed main was the perfect combination. We’d get overpowered with the big jib and pull out the little one, and Brad would be like: ‘Well, we’re not going any slower. You got your wish; your sail is the right sail.’”

Three months before departure, Althea took a direct lightning strike on her mooring in Newport Harbor. Luckily, only the electronics—and a charred Ida Lewis Yacht Club burgee—needed replacing. The Reads were able to depart on schedule. In late October, they sailed out of Narragansett Bay for a three-day passage to Bermuda, accompanied by Brad’s brother, who is a champion sailor many times over, and his wife.

“Kenny and Melissa were great,” Brad says, before admitting to a tiny bit of fraternal drama. Chased by a storm, they entered St. George’s, Bermuda, at night—without a route programmed into the new chart plotter. 

“So, Kenny’s down below, telling me which way to turn,” Brad recalls.

“And with the engine on, you can’t hear anything down there,” Cara adds. 

“That’s when I got a little testy,” Brad says. “I need more information!” 

“When we first left, we needed other people,” Cara says. “And I wanted to learn from Kenny—what a rare opportunity.” But after the leg from Bermuda to St. John in the US Virgin Islands, she says, “We were like, ‘Yeah, we’re good.’” Their kids came for Christmas and a few other visits, “but the rest of the time, it was just us with minimal bickering.”

Their longest doublehanded passage was a five-day sail from the Bahamas to Virginia. Any longer, Cara says, and “I think Brad would have gotten really tired. He feels like he has all the ­responsibility, so he doesn’t really sleep well. And when you’re tired, you don’t make good decisions.”

Learning Underway

Doublehanding required fine-tuning their sailhandling, Cara says. Hoisting the main, “I would hump the halyard, and Brad would tail it. It’s a little tricky getting the fully battened main between the lazy jacks, but I would never go cruising without lazy jacks.” 

The water, Brad recalls, went from 15,000 feet to 40 feet in a matter of boatlengths. “That scared me,” he says. 

They also had to manage diesel ­consumption. On the passage from Bermuda to St. John, they ran out of fuel—verifying their theory that the tank was much smaller than specified. “When we bought the boat, they said we had 90 ­gallons,” Cara says. “We have 42.”

Fortunately, they carried jugs, and a crewmember on that leg was a mechanic. “After that,” Cara says, “we always kept 10 gallons in the bank because we didn’t want to have a situation where we couldn’t motor in an enclosed area.” Sometimes that meant reducing their daily progress offshore.

“Every boat is a compromise,” Brad says. 

Both Reads mention the US Virgin Islands landfall as a highlight of their cruise. On the five-day passage south, Cara says, “it got warmer and warmer and warmer every day, nicer and nicer. And the water got more and more blue.”

They sailed into Francis Bay on St. John at 2 in the morning. After celebratory beers and stargazing, the rest of the crew headed below for some much-needed rest—but Brad stayed in the cockpit. 

“I didn’t sleep a wink,” he says. “The moon was up, I could see the outlines of those beautiful hills, and it was just like, ‘Holy crap, we’re here.’ That was my best moment, and not by a little bit. It was just exactly what I wanted.”

Cara has a harder time picking a ­favorite moment, though she also really enjoyed the Virgin Islands—and other cruising benefits. “We lost weight,” she says. “Not sure why, though on the boat, even just sitting there, you’re always gimbaling. And you just eat less when it’s hot. Though you drink plenty.”

Challenges and Lessons

Their first major equipment breakdown happened on the passage south, when a weld started to fail on the boom’s gooseneck. They also broke two seacock handles, and one was in the closed position.

“We came up with a fix,” Brad says. “And Cara was a little reluctant on this—”

“I was,” she says. “We’re in the middle of nowhere. We could sink if things go—”

“We’re at anchor, in a beautiful place,” Brad interjects, explaining how he swam down and plugged the hole from the ­outside. “Undid everything, got the seacock off—”

“What if when you’re unscrewing it, something else broke?” Cara says. “What if, when you’re putting it back… I was freaking out. Brad’s like, ‘It’ll be fine.’” 

“And it was,” Brad says with a chuckle. “I saw it on YouTube.” Cara adds that they learned a new definition of cruising: “boatwork in glamorous places.” 

For her, the weather was the biggest challenge, especially in the Bahamas.

“The Bahamas are really low,” she says. “There’s no place to hide. And our 6-foot draft limited where we could go. That was a huge thing.”

Brad’s worst moment was on the passage from Puerto Rico to the Turks and Caicos. The couple had planned to leave the Turks to starboard, but after a few jibes to avoid Silver Bank, Brad opted for a more direct northerly route—which sent them out into a 2-knot adverse current that was bucking the strong easterly breeze.

“The currents are not well-documented,” he says. “Not only were we going slower, but it was also a pretty bad sea state. I got really mad at myself for
second-guessing the original plan.”

Studying the chart again, they cut back in to calmer waters before facing their next challenge: a skinny channel between an island and a reef.

“And it was at night,” Cara says. 

The water, Brad recalls, went from 15,000 feet to 40 feet in a matter of boatlengths. “That scared me,” he says. “We put ourselves in a tough spot—or I put ourselves in a tough spot. But as it turns out, it was fine. We got right through, and it was nice and smooth water on the other side.”

Unlike Cara, Brad had never lived on a boat before this past winter. “I did two weeks with the family when I was a kid,” he says, “and then some 10-day cruises with our kids. But never out of sight of land. All coastal cruising. It’s different.” 

Now he’s hungry for more adventures, including a return to the Chesapeake. “All the nooks and crannies,” he says. “I felt like we missed that because we had to get back to work.” 

Maybe next time, he’ll finally have his “Moitessier moment” and just keep sailing.

The post More, Please: Life After Six Months at Sea appeared first on Cruising World.

In the expansive world of performance cruising boats from top European production boatyards, perhaps not surprisingly, the Italians play the game differently. In the cruiser-racer segment, when it comes to a consistent blend of refined style and ­serious sailing chops, the following brands leap immediately to mind: Grand Soleil, Italia and Solaris. Speed and grace—and racing, to various ­degrees—are clearly ­important ­attributes to Italian sailors. (And a shout-out to X-Yachts of Denmark, whose­ lineup in looks and feel is a comparable match.)

Still, I have to admit, before serving as a judge in the 2024 Boat of the Year contest, Solaris was a company that wasn’t on my personal radar. That changed soon after I sailed the Solaris 44 on an ­ideal Chesapeake Bay afternoon in a sweet 10- to 12-knot southerly. After a memorable stint driving the sleek 44-footer upwind and down, I jotted this in my notebook: “Beautiful helm. A Ferrari.”

The Solaris 44 is one among 11 models that the builder offers from 40 to 111 feet. This is a boat with an all-business profile that looks quick even parked in a slip. With its plumb bow and straight-edge walk-through transom, the long waterline is completely stretched out. A flat sheerline and low, sloped coachroof—paired with a couple of rectangular hull windows and a fixed, extended bowsprit, which accommodates a code-zero headsail that bolsters the off-wind sail area—add to the contemporary styling. 

The cockpit, with a pair of outboard helm stations coupled to a set of twin rudders, is spacious and accommodating. A full crew of racing sailors won’t worry about tripping over one another when tacking or flying a kite. The running rigging is stashed mostly below the deck, and leads to a pair of winches and clutches to port and starboard. Even the wide traveler is recessed under the cockpit sole to keep lines and clutter to a minimum. The real teak decks are awesome, though a faux composite deck is optional.

Back to that sweet sailing, which is the 44’s clear raison d’être. All of those sailhandling elements came together nicely on our test ride. Off the wind on a deep reach with the big headsail, the boat tracked along well at 8 knots, and the speedo leapt accordingly to a solid 10 knots as we headed up a few degrees and brought the breeze abeam. We then swapped the code zero for the self-tacking jib and made an easy and respectable 7.6 knots closehauled. The wheels were as light and responsive as can be, and those two rudders offered complete control. 

The inventory of 3Di North Sails was impressive. And our test boat was loaded with options: bow thruster, air conditioner, generator, and full B&G instrumentation. The standard double-spreader Seldén rig is aluminum, but owners can specify a carbon stick. The 60 hp Volvo Penta diesel (30 hp is standard, and 75 hp is available) with sail drive performed well, making better than 8 knots when ticking over at 2,400 rpm.

Vacuum-bagged construction is a straightforward laminate that employs vinylester resin matched with Airex foam core in the hull and deck. Likewise, the tabbed forward and main bulkheads are a composite sandwich. The T-shaped keel (available in deep and shallow versions of 8 feet, 5 inches and 7 feet, 10 inches, respectively) pair a cast-iron steel foil with a substantial lead ballast bulb. Obviously, this is not a boat destined to gunkhole through the Bahamas.

The floor plan belowdecks, with three staterooms and two heads, is clearly laid out to accommodate an offshore racing crew or, in cruising mode, an owner and several guests. On a distance race with a crew of 10 who are on five-person watches, there’s plenty of room for the off-watch team to crash. Cushions in the double-berth staterooms aft are split to provide a lee cloth, and two settees in the main stateroom will serve as comfortable berths. 

There’s an L-shaped galley to port at the foot of the companionway and a real navigation station (a must, in my eyes) to starboard. The owner’s stateroom, with a centerline double berth and en suite head, is forward. The light-oak furniture we saw was quite handsome. There’s nothing revolutionary in this layout, but it’s all addressed to high standards. 

Having the opportunity to trial the Solaris 44 provided one happy surprise after another. I have a soft spot for dual-purpose yachts that will serve the racing and cruising modes more than adequately. The Italians have an adjective that I believe works well here: bellissima.

 Herb McCormick is a CW editor-at-large and was a 2024 Boat of the Year judge.

Solaris 44 Specifications

Take the Next Step

Price: $700,000
Contact: solarisyachts.com

The post Sailboat Review: Solaris 44 appeared first on Cruising World.

It was the last Monday of November 1979. I was a year out of college and somewhat adrift. Through an old high school friend, I’d landed an entry-level job at a new business that was hiring local yokels on the cheap in my hometown of Newport, Rhode Island. It was my first day as the new ­receptionist at Cruising World magazine. 

Little did I know when I answered my first phone call that my life was about to significantly change. In unimaginable ways. 

Five years earlier—precisely five decades ago this month—the first issue of Cruising World had made its debut at the US Sailboat Show in Annapolis, Maryland. It was the right magazine at the right time, riding the wave of a revolution in production-sailboat manufacturing. Publisher and editor Murray Davis was an affable Aussie who’d first visited Newport as a newspaperman covering the America’s Cup. His hell-on-wheels English wife, Barbara, managed the ever-expanding office. She terrified everyone but for some reason found me amusing. 

If she hadn’t, it would’ve been a quick end to this story. Instead, fatefully, I’d stumbled into a welcoming place full of happy, creative, nurturing souls. Somehow I’d tripped straight into my life’s work. 

My first big break came when I found a typo in a press release I wasn’t supposed to be reading while taking it to the printer. That got me kicked upstairs to the editors’ offices with a new title: editorial assistant. Proofreader to the stars! 

I wasn’t much of a writer, but knocking off dozens of papers as a history major at a fine liberal-arts institution had taught me some skills. The notion of using them professionally had never once crossed my mind. I’d played college football and thus could mindlessly grind winches, but I was even less of a sailor, my experience limited to some informal beer-can racing out of the Newport Yacht Club. 

That was also about to change. 

I’d have many mentors in the following years, but none more influential than my first two, both Great Lakes sailors: Dale Nouse, the magazine’s executive editor and a hard-nosed former reporter at the Detroit Free Press, and senior editor Dan Spurr, who’d sailed his Pearson Triton from Lake Michigan to join the staff. Nouse taught me how to compose a story. Spurr taught me how to sail. I learned a ton just by reading their always polished prose. 

I instantly fell in love with all of it. Sailing had everything I was after: travel, adventure, fun, competition and, of course, the wild blue yonder. Writing became a quest, to hone my craft to the best of my abilities. I came to see both pursuits as interlocked, inseparable. I couldn’t get enough of either.

Oh, the people I met and sailed with: Danny Greene, Robin Knox-Johnston, Alvah Simon, Gary Jobson, Mark Schrader and, of course, Lin and Larry Pardey. The Pardeys and I became such great, trusted pals that they asked me to pen their biography, As Long As It’s Fun. Such an honor. Still the best thing I ever wrote.

And, oh yes, the races that followed: Newport Bermuda, the Transpac, Pacific Cup, Sydney Hobart, Around Ireland, and literally hundreds of J/24 races (all with that old high school buddy, Ian Scott, who’d helped launch my improbable journey). Finally, holy cow, the places I sailed: across the Atlantic, down to Antarctica, through the Northwest Passage, around Cape Horn (twice), up and down the Caribbean, all the way around North and South America on an epic 13-month, 28,000-nautical-mile odyssey. Crazy. 

On this special anniversary, I’m amazed and grateful. After all this time and all those miles, Cruising World is still going strong…and I still get to contribute. I believe that Murray, Barbara and Dale—all long gone now—would be proud. And me? The luckiest of lucky lads. 

Back in the day, Dale critiqued every syllable of everything I wrote. He offered plenty of advice, the most memorable of which concerned wrapping up a story. He believed that a solid conclusion was the true key to any successful piece. And he was always praiseworthy whenever any of us, his colleagues and pupils, stuck the landing. 

“It’s the most important thing,” he’d say, time and again. “You’ve got to know how to get off the stage.”

Herb McCormick is a CW editor-at-large.  

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The destination was the verdant Caribbean island nation of Dominica, in the Lesser Antilles chain, sandwiched between the French isles of Guadeloupe and Martinique. The goal was to partake in the fun, music, food and camaraderie of the second-annual PAYS Dominica Yachting Festival, a weeklong celebration to benefit the Portsmouth Association for Yacht Security. 

My ignorance regarding this entire venture was twofold: I’d never been to Dominica, and I had no clue what PAYS was all about. However, when my old mate Hank Schmitt invited me to come along for the festivities aboard his sweet Swan 48, Avocation, I reckoned there was nothing to lose. 

What transpired was one of the best weeks of my sailing life.

But first, we had to get there. 

It was almost precisely 170 nautical miles, more or less due south, from our departure point on St. Maarten’s Simpson Bay to Dominica. We were closehauled in the easterly trades for our entire one-tack overnight voyage, and it was a bumpy ride. But there were some definite highlights. Off St. Barts, we caught a glimpse of the impressive fleet of superyachts competing in the annual St. Barts Bucket regatta. At sunrise, we enjoyed a respite from the relentless easterlies, sluicing down the lee of Guadeloupe. The last 17 miles of open water were sporty, but exactly 26 hours after hoisting sail, we picked up a mooring in Prince Rupert’s Bay fronting the volcanic black-sand beach and the funky coastal town of Portsmouth on Dominica’s northwest coastline.

After catching a ride ashore on one of the PAYS water taxis, I had the first of many surprises. One of the locals caught a glimpse of our skipper, a dude I’ve known for decades—but never by this handle. 

“Look!” he called to his pals. “It’s Daddy Hank!”

Who’s Your Daddy?

There are several good reasons that Hank Schmitt is a rather beloved father figure along the waterfront of Dominica. After decades of roaming the oceans under sail—and through his related business, Offshore Passage Opportunities, the networking service that has helped countless sailors realize their own voyaging dreams—Schmitt is continuing to pay it forward with PAYS. 

The tale of how a native New Yorker from Long Island Sound became a favored patron to a faraway Caribbean island is, well, a winding one indeed.

The sailing bug bit Schmitt early, at the tender age of 7, when he started racing dinghies in junior programs at various yacht clubs on his home waters. During high school, he matriculated to Rhode Island’s Portsmouth Abbey, and starred on the sailing team while working summers at a boatyard back home and sailing his dad’s Cal 2-30. After graduation in 1977, with a one-way ticket to Florida, he finagled his way aboard a Morgan One Tonner to race in the prestigious Southern Ocean Racing Conference, the major ­big-boat yacht-racing series of the time. 

At 19, in Houston, he hopped aboard his first offshore oil rig; that began a seven-year odyssey that took him from the United States to Europe to Africa, and included his first transatlantic voyage, from Boston to Italy on a 400-foot drill ship at 8 knots. Thus, a pattern of movement was established. The equal attractions were new adventures and blue water. And it turned out, he was just getting going.

Back home in Huntington, New York, after the oil business cratered, he launched his own rigging and dive business, spent a few harrowing winters fishing commercially out of Montauk, and started doing yacht deliveries. Lots of them. Hundreds of thousands of miles. After one, in 1987, he landed a repossessed Tayana 37 that he renamed Hunk-a-Schmitt and lived aboard for 13 years. In 1992, he sailed it in Jimmy Cornell’s America 500 rally commemorating the 500th anniversary of Columbus’ famous voyage, visiting 25 ports in 10 months with a pair of solo Atlantic crossings. 

That led to, among other things, ­founding Offshore Passage Opportunities and the annual North America Rally to the Caribbean, during which he eventually ran a fleet of Swans back and forth from their charter bases in Rhode Island and St. Maarten each year (and earned some extra dough selling crew berths to fledgling voyagers). His own Swan, the 48-foot Avocation, always led the parade. 

That annual Caribbean pilgrimage is what first drew Schmitt to Dominica. For years, after arriving in the islands, he’d do a standard circuit of charters for members of Offshore Passage Opportunities: the St. Maarten Heineken Regatta, a swing through the British Virgin Islands, Antigua Sailing Week. When the BVI portion started to get old, a fellow skipper offered a fresh suggestion: Check out Dominica.

During that first visit, around 2012, Schmitt met a boat boy named Albert, who was operating a dilapidated skiff. He tapped some members of Offshore Passage Opportunities for a contribution for the materials to build Albert a new boat. The next time he visited (with some cache with the PAYS locals after helping out Albert), he realized that the few moorings he’d seen off Portsmouth were missing. The Offshore Passage Opportunities crew stepped up again, eventually raising more than $20,000 for several dozen new moorings. 

That led to the first organized PAYS fundraisers, originally called Yachtie Appreciation Weeks (the second one, in 2015, drew more than 100 boats). They helped to fund a seaside PAYS pavilion and adjacent docks. The pandemic stopped the momentum, though Schmitt continued to raise and send money to help several Dominican families, and somewhere in there landed a nickname. Once normalcy returned, so did the weeklong celebration, rebranded as the Yachting Festival, with barbecues, tours, beach parties and more. 

For me, arriving for the 2024 PAYS party aboard Avocation, something was clear right from the outset. It’s pretty great showing up in Dominica in the company of Daddy Hank.

Embracing “Nature’s Island”

It’s hard to say what was the best part of the festival because it was all pretty damn festive. But we’ll start with the people, especially Team Avocation: Daddy, of course; his longtime Long Island mates, Alex Hummel and Dave Evans (the latter sailed down aboard skipper Peter Bourke’s Class 40, Imagine, a nifty yacht that added much to my own personal experience); and Offshore Passage Opportunities member Don Geier, a Kansas man who, in retrospect, probably had no idea (like me) of what he was getting himself into. And then there was the PAYS posse, with ringleader Eddison Laville playing a prominent role, and a cast of characters as colorful as their own monikers: Cobra, Toxic, Blackie, Boy-Boy, Kenny G and so many more.

A few more things stand out, especially the dazzling beauty of this rich, fertile island. Dominica has been called the Caribbean’s “nature island,” and with good reason. With its steep peaks, dense rainforest, rushing waterfalls, and abundant flora and fauna, it is jaw-droppingly gorgeous. 

It’s become known for eco-tourism, also with good reason. Those aforementioned black-sand beaches (which, to my eye, are nothing less than sensational) luckily deterred the arrival of Club Med-style resorts that afflict many a Caribbean island. The overall vibe remains inviting, laid-back and unspoiled. (That said, there’s plenty of new development underway, including major roads and a big international airport. My advice? Go. Now.)

Perhaps the best, easiest, most inclusive way to experience this island is also the simplest: Take a hike. As Avocation was a bit crowded, Alex and I decamped to shoreside quarters at the Mango Garden Cottages, which are run by Eddison’s Swiss wife, Sylvia, who invited us on “a morning stroll.” With a spirited quartet of happy pooches, we ascended an uphill trail past wandering goats and terrace gardens of cabbage and bananas to the Diablo Canyon, an arresting destination near a pretty spot called Sulphur Springs (its cool water was a lovely place to dip weary toes). A couple of hours later, Alex and I were drenched in sweat, while Sylvia and the dogs appeared fresh as daisies. Much too late, Alex made an astute observation: “It’s probably not a great idea to go on a steep hike with a Swiss woman.” Thanks, Captain Obvious. 

That turned out to be just a warm-up for the next day’s trek. Dominica is circled by a 14-stage, 115-mile long-distance hiking route called the Waitukubuli National Trail. Sylvia dropped off Alex, Dave and me at the trailhead to Stage 13, the Penville section, listed on the map as a “moderate” hike of 8 kilometers, or about 5 miles. All I can say is, I’m glad we didn’t tackle a “difficult” route. It was a true wilderness trail with crazy vegetation, incredible cliffside ocean views, and plenty of sharp switchbacks—on one of which I was almost knocked into oblivion on a narrow path by a burro going up while I was headed down. By the end, some five hours and a rainstorm later, we were all toast—but also beginning to understand Dominica in elemental terms. 

The next excursion, thankfully, was back to sea level and decidedly more mellow: a float up the Indian River with Albert, a fine guide, on the oars. The “indians” for which it was named were the indigenous island Carib people, before the colonists from Spain, France and Great Britain showed up, with predictably horrible results. Dominica boasts some 365 rivers, Albert told us as we slipped beneath a dense canopy of foliage and past century-old trees, their roots deep and tangled. Along the way, he pointed out the nests of termites and hummingbirds. Coconut crabs skittered along the shoreline. What’s left of the original Carib clans now live in villages to the north, but this was a serene place. Their spirit was still there.

We didn’t get a true sense of how vast and diverse Dominica was, however, until we piled into a van for an overland tour with another knowledgeable local named Kenneth Gussie. (He spelled it out in my notebook and said, “Don’t call me Kenny G,” though unfortunately for him, everybody does.) By any name, Kenneth was a passionate, knowledgeable ambassador for his homeland, which he called “the island of dreams. What are you looking for? Rivers and mountains? Caribbean culture? Fresh organic food? Eco-tourism? Where you can just be yourself without worries, and have great times?

“I’m going to make Dominica smile,” he continued. “That’s what I’m going to do.” He was as good as his word. It actually took us two days to take it all in, and that we did. 

Kenneth spoke of the place’s rich history, the different and lasting influences of all those earlier European colonizers (Columbus, on his second voyage, gave Dominica its name: Latin for Sunday, the day he sailed past), and its tumultuous break for independence from Great Britain in 1979. Kenneth also had fond comments about the recent influx of Chinese people to the island: “Very good friends. They teach us farming techniques, fishing techniques.” He also waxed poetically on the perfection of curried goat. 

We drove from the top of the island to the bottom, all 29 miles. We took in the national parks, including the one called Morne Diablotins, home to Dominica’s highest peak (4,747 feet). We had a look at the banana plantations, the fishing harbors and the botanical gardens in Roseau, the country’s busy capital. We stopped at the Indian reserve and picked up some crafts and souvenirs. We swam in the Titou Gorge and paid a visit to the Trafalgar Falls, where Hank and I scrambled up the boulders and had a refreshing soak in the cool, rocky pools. Everything was amazing. Thank you, Mr. Gussie; you did a wonderful job. All smiles.

Last, there was the one activity that put me firmly back in my more natural element: racing sailboats. The midweek Race to Mero was as casual as could be, and meant to showcase the new set of PAYS moorings installed off the beachfront of Mero Beach. There was no start or finish line; you could motor for five minutes at the outset; and the whole idea was just to go sailing and have fun, which I’m always up for. 

That’s precisely what transpired on board Peter Bourke’s Imagine, aboard which he’d invited me to sail as a ­doublehanded entry. Bourke had originally planned to do the Global Solo Challenge singlehanded round-the-world race aboard the boat, but an untimely bout with COVID-19 sidelined those plans. Now he was cruising the islands. His well-prepared 40-footer was a joy to sail, and even with fitful breeze, we managed to make 8 knots at one point and had a fine time slipping down Dominica’s coastline in the company of another half-dozen racers. And Mero Beach was a sweet spot to pick up that mooring. 

In a related aside, it must be noted: Cannabis is legal for the residents of “nature island.” If you (like me) happen to enjoy an occasional puff, the beach party on Mero, with a crazy street parade in the middle of it, is a good place to be. My new island brothers were more than happy to share. 

Peter and I had another cool sail back to Prince Rupert’s Bay. I might’ve still been high, because at the very end of it, by virtue of the fact that we were the only boat to complete both light-air legs entirely under sail, Imagine was declared the winner. At the awards ceremony that evening, Peter even got a trophy. More smiles.

With that, my work on Dominica was complete.

Heading North

Our festival experience had commenced with an overnight sail from St. Maarten, and as all good things must come to an end, it concluded with one too. Alex and I enjoyed a delicious lunch of coconut-curry conch and backed down a couple of blazing shots of cinnamon rum at our new favorite beach bar. We all bid the PAYS posse thanks and adieu, and we were off. 

It was an absolutely fantastic sail. The breeze had freed a bit on the way back to St. Maarten, which meant more of a reach than the upwind thrash we’d experienced on the trip down. It seemed fitting. After a week on Dominica, our souls were a bit freer as well. 

I deliberately crashed until midnight, with the plan to stay up for the rest of the evening because I love catching dawn at sea. It proved to be a smart call; I also saw the rise of a brilliant moon. Best of all, as I came on deck, there in our wake was the Southern Cross. I hadn’t expected to see it this far north.

In that moment, it was hard to tell which was tugging more on my heartstrings: that beautiful southern sky, or wishing that I was still on that unforgettable volcanic rock called Dominica, afloat on the sea beneath it.

It PAYS to Sail to Dominica

The third annual PAYS Dominica Yachting Festival, with a weeklong program of tours, beach parties and casual sailboat racing, is scheduled to take place March 22-30. For more information, visit paysdominica.com. § While Hank Schmitt is scaling back on his own voyaging, his Offshore Passage Opportunities networking service is still connecting sailors and skippers for mutual oceanic adventures. Learn more at sailopo.com.

Herb McCormick is a CW editor-at-large.

The post Dazzled in Dominica appeared first on Cruising World.

We can’t see the wind, but we can see what it is doing to many objects on the water. Understanding the patterns and trends of the ever-­changing wind helps us sail faster, more efficiently, and on a more direct course toward our destination.   

Reading the wind is one of the great joys of sailing. Start by wearing sunglasses to dampen glare. This makes it easier to detect small changes of the ripples that wind causes on the water. I use prescription sunglasses to help me read the wind.  

Stand up in the boat so that you can see farther. Study one section of the horizon at a time. In a minute or two, you will be able to recognize what the wind is doing. 

Start by looking at the wind within 10 boatlengths, and then extend your view farther out, eventually all the way to the horizon. Study the patterns. Out loud, say where you think the wind is best.  

There are many clues. The first indicator is the water. Dark patches with ripples close together indicate more wind. Look for the intensity of the patches. That means puffs. You can also see if the puffs are coming from different directions.   

The next indicator is your sails. The wind flows around the sails and lets you know exactly what is happening around your boat. I use an apparent-wind indicator (a masthead fly) to see what direction the wind is flowing. Other boats sailing in your vicinity are a helpful source of information too. If, for example, you see a boat well ahead of you steering a higher course, that suggests you are about to be lifted (able to sail a higher course toward your destination).  

A change of direction that forces you farther off course is called a header. Often, when wind changes direction, it is part of a puff with more ­velocity. Anticipate a puff just before it flows into your sails. If it is a strong gust, be prepared to ease out your sails and head up a few degrees to lessen the effects of the puffs.  

Flags flying on the shoreline are helpful in trying to figure out if the wind is going to change direction. A set of anchored boats is another helpful source. (Be mindful that current flow can affect how a boat sits at anchor.) 

If a strong gust approaches your boat, then alert the rest of the crew that you are about to get a blast of wind. Crews don’t like surprises. Suddenly heeling over can startle an unsuspecting crew. 

Smokestacks are another good source of wind-direction information. A smokestack is high in the air and indicates what direction the wind is blowing at a higher elevation.

While you are sailing, keep a mental note of how each puff of wind is affecting your boat. The patterns repeat throughout the day. On a light-air day, head for a set of clouds. Often, good wind is underneath clouds. On a ­very-light-wind day, you can feel a subtle breeze on your neck. Wet a ­finger and hold it in the air, and you can feel which ­direction the wind is blowing.

Buddy Melges once told me that he looks to see what direction cattle are standing onshore so they can feel the wind on their backsides.

Thermal factors have a big impact on wind. When air heats up on land, it rises. A cooler breeze over the water fills in to take the place of the rising air. This is called a thermal or a sea breeze. 

Before sailing, take a few minutes to check out different forecasts by weather services. My favorites include Windy, PredictWind, SailFlow and the National Weather Service. I like looking at more than one source to get a sense of what might happen while I am on the water. 

For long-distance passages, consider subscribing to a private weather service. On an expedition to Antarctica, our crew engaged a weather service that gave us accurate forecasts every 12 hours. We received the information via email on a satellite phone. Many ­grand-prix racing crews use customized weather services as well.

The locals can be helpful. A gardener at a yacht club used to give me tips every Saturday before I went out racing. He would say: “There is a lot of dew on the grass this morning.  There’s going to be a strong breeze from the south.” Or: “I noticed cobwebs on the fence. Probably going to be a westerly wind today.” I smiled at the lore of the gardener, and yet his forecast generally proved accurate, so I always factored his commentary into my thinking.

Expect the wind to be choppy and confused in harbors and around moored boats. You are better off sailing in open water. Areas with many powerboats chop up the waves and cause confusion reading the wind. I try to sail in areas with as few power vessels as possible.  

Superstar sailor Buddy Melges once told me that he looks to see what direction cattle are standing on the shoreline so they can feel the wind on their backsides. Melges also advised watching the direction birds take off because they usually fly into the wind to generate lift.

When you sail into a gust of wind, it helps to use your sail trim, steering, and weight placement to maintain an even keel. When a boat heels over too far, it makes leeway. The rudder and keel stall, making it difficult to steer, and the boat slows down.  

When I am daysailing, I like to keep my boat sailing fast. The helm feels better, and the boat performs better. So, I ask the crew to sit to windward in a breeze and to leeward in light wind. If you plan to make a maneuver, let the crew know well in advance so that they will be prepared to switch sides of the boat. Reading the wind accurately will help you understand when it is time to tack or jibe.

More than anything, practice. I’ve spent my entire career studying the wind. Predicting what is going to happen will make your sailing more enjoyable.

The post How to Read the Wind appeared first on Cruising World.

Haulouts are a necessary evil. They are the only time a boat owner can perform a thorough inspection of the hull, rudder and underwater hardware, as well as apply bottom paint and perform other below-the-­waterline maintenance.  

There are several ways to make the most of this process. Here are a few tips.

Keep the Water Out

Watertight integrity rises above all other priorities. The weakest links in this chain are hull fittings and seacocks. That’s why it’s important to use time on the hard to inspect each one.  

If they are metallic, then scrape off some paint. The metal color should look like copper. While the telltale green shade of verdigris is not harmful, any sign of a pinkish hue is cause for concern. Pink indicates de-zincification. It means the metal is brass, which contains zinc, rather than bronze, which does not. The former is definitely not suitable for use in seawater.  

Work all the seacocks, and replace any that are seized. Those that are stiff can often be freed with exercise and a little penetrating oil. Most modern ball-type seacocks use Teflon or other synthetic seals, which don’t need lubrication, however, those that have drain plugs can usually accept Zerk fittings, which allow the void around the ball to be filled with grease, making movement easier.

Stay On Course

Closely inspect the rudder for damage, and remember to look at the very bottom surface. Many rudders “leak” water while hauled. This might not be cause for concern. However, if the liquid is rust-colored, then water may have penetrated to the rudder’s internal metallic support structure. That structure might be stainless steel or a combination of stainless and mild steel (the latter is undesirable, but both can suffer). If corrosion is present, surgery might be necessary to avoid a parting of the ways between the rudder stock and blade—and the resultant loss of steering or the rudder altogether.  

If the rudder is skeg hung, then check the condition of the gudgeon, the stationary support for the rudder’s lower pivot point, called the pintle. It’s normal to have a small amount of lateral play here, but too much can indicate wear or damage. Fiberglass around the pintle hardware should be free of anything other than minor gelcoat surface cracks.

With spade rudders (those that are not supported at the bottom), grab the lowest portion and push-pull it to port and starboard. A small amount of play is normal where the rudder stock enters the rudder log, tube and bearing that provide support at the hull interface. Excessive movement can indicate wear and the potential need to replace the bearing. Both rudder types should otherwise move freely to their stops without binding.  

Keel and Stub

Have a close look at the keel, especially if it is externally ballasted. Trouble can lurk in the interface between the ballast and hull, which might be direct or might rely on a fiberglass protrusion called the stub. It’s not unusual to see some water leaking from this interface, but if it is rusty in color, it indicates corrosion to keel fasteners, which are typically made from a stainless alloy.  

How much corrosion has occurred is impossible to know without separating the keel from the hull, but there have been a few high-profile cases of keel loss, often with fatalities, so better safe than sorry.

Dropping an external ballast keel is no small undertaking, but for a skilled yard, it should be fairly routine. If the keel is externally ballasted and it is cast iron, the integrity of the coating is critical. Any breach will lead to rust, which will spread. Correction requires cleaning, grinding to bright metal, and then coating with an epoxy primer rather than simply applying antifoulant.

For all keels, check the bottom for grounding damage. If the keel is internally ballasted, then severe grounding damage can allow water to reach the ballast. This is problematic for lead ballast and especially concerning for iron ballast, which will rust and expand, damaging the fiberglass structure. Better to catch this problem early. —Steve D’Antonio 

Steve D’Antonio offers services for boat owners and buyers through Steve D’Antonio Marine Consulting.

The post After the Haulout: First Things First appeared first on Cruising World.

Fifty years ago this month, the first issue of Cruising World magazine debuted at the US Sailboat Show in Annapolis, Maryland. It was an ideal time to launch a cruising and sailing periodical, as a revolution in production fiberglass boatbuilding was underway. Huge numbers of sailors were eager to purchase new boats, and the choices in size, price and purpose were plentiful. 

Sure, there were lots of imports on the market, especially from France and the Far East, but there were plenty of great boats born in the USA. The builders and their brands were practically synonymous: Hunter (Warren Luhrs), Catalina (Frank Butler), Morgan Yachts (Charley Morgan), Irwin Yachts (Ted Irwin), Pearson (Bill Shaw), Sabre (Roger Hewson), Shannon Yachts (Walter Schulz), and on and on.

Why bring all this up? Well, of all those companies, only Catalina still builds sailboats, and in limited sizes and numbers. All those other former household maritime names are little more than fond memories. The once-powerful US production-sailboat industry has basically ceased to exist. 

But cruising remains as ­alluring as ever—nature abhors a vacuum—and several of the production-boat builders that have filled it are conglomerates aimed at serving the nautical masses. 

One of the most notable, with a trio of popular lines (Hanse, Dehler and Moody), is Hanse Yachts AG, the German manufacturing colossus based on the Baltic Sea. This past fall, in our annual Boat of the Year competition, we tested their latest offering to the US market, the Hanse 510. It’s a rangy, state-of-the-art marvel that on many levels will never be confused with your basic Catalina 30. 

In contemporary cruising boats, some five decades down the track, the names aren’t the only things that have changed. One huge difference? The relative cost. Of the 19 nominees in the 2024 Boat of the Year fleet, over a third sported price tags at over a million bucks, including the Hanse 510.

From a design perspective, the 510 represents a new direction for Hanse. For many years, the Judel/Vrolijk design office was the firm’s principal naval architecture firm. But in 2021, Hanse handed the keys to the French team of Berret-Racoupeau. They delivered the critically acclaimed and commercially successful Hanse 460, with more than 230 boats sold.  

“The next logical step,” says US Hanse importer Doug Brophy, “was to replace our 508 with the 510. The 508 originated with the Hanse 490 and then went through a series of facelifts. We decided not to do facelifts anymore, but to develop a new boat with a new launch. And I think it would be harder to find a larger cockpit on a 50-foot boat than this one.”

Berret-Racoupeau has become a major force in the industry, with a client list that includes most of the top French and European catamaran and monohull builders. In a way, they’ve become a 21st-century Gallic version of Nathanael Herreshoff. However, where Capt. Nat generally reveled in rounded curves, low freeboard and overhanging sterns, the Frenchmen opt for hard angles, maximized beam and length, and voluminous interiors. Metaphorically speaking, comparing the Herreshoff school (or, for that matter, any of the designs of the 1960s and 1970s inspired by the Cruising Club of America’s CCA Rule) with contemporary production boats is like bringing a knife to a gunfight. 

Want proof? Check out the profile of the 510. The waterline is completely maxed out, with a reverse wave-piercing bow forward and a straight, razor-sharp transom astern (a drop-down transom gate serves as a swim platform and opens to a dinghy garage to stash a nearly 9-foot fully inflated tender). There’s not one but two sets of chines, forward and aft, an element that considerably opens up the interior floor plan. There are three windows in the hull, and, with 14 opening hatches on deck, the belowdecks staterooms are flooded with natural light and fresh air. 

Our test boat was adorned with a hardtop Bimini, which covered the entire cockpit with shade and had a sliding panel on Ronstan cars to open things up; a forward glass windshield linked to a fiberglass arch via an acrylic panel that shielded the cockpit from the breeze; and a barbecue and sink. All of which are options (as is a solar array), but these are such worthy, well-executed features that I couldn’t really imagine going without them. There are split cockpit tables, but you can also specify a high/low adjustable table that converts into a lounge, which would go along well with the foredeck sun pad. For the decks, there’s a choice between real teak and synthetic Flexiteek; for the hull colors, the choices in gelcoats are white and gray.  

The freeboard is as tall and considerable as the coachroof is low and sleek; aesthetically, it’s almost an afterthought. Bow and stern thrusters are practically a must because that freeboard represents considerable windage in tight quarters with the breeze on the beam. A forward sprit does double duty as the tack for a reaching sail and home to the ground tackle (a hefty Delta anchor). The single rudder is a deep blade (there are twin helms with Jefa steering), and a significant ballast bulb is attached to the keels (both the shoal and deep versions). Even dockside, the 510 looks raring to go. 

Construction is robust and straightforward. The hull and deck are balsa-cored, while the laminate is solid glass below the waterline. There’s a significant interior fiberglass grid to which the keel is anchored. The hull and deck are bonded and integrated with the toe-rail bulwarks. Additional fasteners are beneath each stanchion. The bulkheads are taped and bonded to the hull, and there are aluminum backing plates beneath each deck fitting. The main bulkhead is a reinforced composite laminate that serves as a compression post for the deck-stepped Seldén rig.

Our test ride sported a 12-volt electrical system with AGM batteries, but a lithium package is available. This boat was loaded with an air conditioner, a Fischer Panda generator, and a 110 hp Yanmar diesel with sail drive that trucked along at almost 8 knots with the throttle down to 2,500 rpm. The smooth emergency-­steering setup was as good as or better than anything we tested for the 2024 contest. 

Accommodations are equal to or roomier than a comfy shoreside condo. Our test boat was set up with the owner’s stateroom forward and a pair of good double-berth staterooms aft. The straight-line galley is to starboard, forward of the navigation desk, AC/DC panels and so on. There are a trio of fridges along with a freezer. (You will never want for a cold beverage on the 510.) To port, there’s a long settee with a high/low table that drops and converts to a berth. There’s a central island down the middle of the main cabin that includes, among other things, a pop-up television set. 

A four-stateroom, four-head layout is aimed at the charter trade. It includes a taut skipper’s cabin forward, which is a sail locker in the three-­staterooms configuration.  

Topsides, that aforementioned bowsprit opens up a foretriangle that accommodates a double-headsail rig: an outer stay with a genoa and an inner stay with a self-tacking jib, both easily controlled with Furlex furling drums. On our test boat, an in-mast furling mainsail was set off the tall spar (77 feet), though a traditional main is another option. The German-style double-ended mainsheet is a midboom arrangement. All the running rigging is led through belowdecks channels to winches and clutches well aft in the cockpit, and then to the dual steering pedestals. It’s a clean and tidy assemblage. 

In 10 to 12 knots of autumn breeze on Chesapeake Bay, the 510 acquitted itself very well. With the big headsail unfurled, it made close to 6 knots on a deep reach and scooted up to more than 8 knots coming up with the wind on the beam. Swapping over to the jib, the boatspeeds were equally favorable, making anywhere between 6 and 8 knots closehauled as the pressure fluctuated in the lulls and puffs. That deep rudder provided a lot of bite, and for pure performance, you can’t beat a long waterline. It was a very pleasant sail.

From soup to nuts, the yacht did everything you’d expect it to, with speed and dispatch—and it’s stylish to boot. There are good reasons that the big yards have come to dominate the big-boat marketplace. The Hanse 510 is a solid example why.

Herb McCormick is a CW editor-at-large and was a 2024 Boat of the Year judge.

Hanse 510 Specifications

Take the next step

Price: $1,050,000
Contact: hanseyachtsag.com

The post Sailboat Review: Hanse 510 appeared first on Cruising World.

Tiller between my legs, I hold the finicky jib sheet in one hand and my sparkling water in the ­other. Sueños picks up speed like a horse ready to run. I’m solo sailing, my favorite pastime. And I’m wing on wing, my favorite point of sail. Today, Montana’s Flathead Lake is perfect for both.

The Rocky Mountains graze blue sky on the eastern shore. Those craggy peaks culminate in Glacier National Park 30 miles north, where grizzlies, goats and woodsmen roam. To the west, bleached bluffs have baked to golden perfection after a long summer. And in front of me, the September sun glints across a vast expanse of royal blue that is mine alone.

At age 43, I’ve sailed more than half my life. I live with my husband and our two young kids in an area of Montana 100 miles to the south. We’ve spent the past four winters cruising in the Bahamas aboard Mikat, a 36-foot Jaguar catamaran. 

But my husband is less enamored of sailing than I am. Or, to be more accurate, he wants a break from fixing boats in beautiful places. A few months ago, we sold our one-third-ownership share in Mikat. As I skim across Flathead, he’s happily planning a family backpacking trip to Bolivia, South America’s only landlocked country.

The loss of our catamaran hit me harder than I expected. When we walked away from Mikat in Marsh Harbour, in the Bahamas, this past March, I nearly hyperventilated. What if it became a ghost ship that pulled me under when it sailed off without us?

A few weeks later, at a ­meditation class back in Montana, the instructor told us to envision a place where we felt happy, healthy and peaceful. I closed my eyes, and the forward berth on Mikat came into view—sheets perpetually damp and sandy, a tinge of diesel and mildew behind the salt water. I saw my children spiraling through the air as they swung on a halyard, framed against a slice of white sand. I saw the four of us diving off the transom, baptized anew in the neon water. 

I needed another happy place. So I found a boat ­partnership closer to home. 

Sueños is a Catalina 25 that’s been cruising Flathead Lake for two decades—only a few years longer than I have. As the largest natural lake west of the Mississippi, Flathead has hundreds of miles of shoreline to explore, along with a half-dozen islands. 

I nudge the tiller to turn toward my favorite of these islands, trimming in the sails. When I reach the horseshoe anchorage tucked against Wild Horse Island, I scramble around the deck, alternating between nursing the idling outboard, lowering the main at the mast, and running to the bow to wrest the anchor and chain from the hold. Sueños is definitely not set up for singlehanding, but that just makes it more interesting.

The sun is skimming the top of the ponderosas by the time I’ve set the hook. I strip off my clothes and cannonball off the side before the light disappears completely. The lake is cold but not icy…yet. The sailing season is short here in the Big Sky State—June through September, at best. Half of those days are too chilly to swim, the other half too smoky to see the mountains. But ­occasionally, you stumble upon the magic that makes Montana the last best place.

Before the last of the light fades, I row the dinghy to shore. Most of the island is a state park, with no roads or electricity. The few homes along its shore are accessible only by boat. I huff up a steep hill in the twilight, then startle when I see a herd of bighorn sheep at the top. Standing stock still, I watch two dozen mamas corral their rambunctious half-grown babies into a still-green hollow where they’ll be safe from human hikers.

Back aboard Sueños, I drink a beer while making dinner. The alcohol goes straight to my head and inspires me to call my friend Katie in Bellingham. As a fellow sailor who grew up in Montana, she’ll be able to appreciate how special it is to be alone on Flathead.

“I was just thinking about you,” she says. “We watched that documentary on the Race to Alaska last night. Are we ever going to do it?”

We’ve been talking for years about entering the 750-mile, nonmotorized, free-for-all ocean race from Port Townsend, Washington, to Ketchikan, Alaska. Our kids were always too little, our jobs too hard to leave for a month, and our motivation not quite strong enough to brave gnarly currents, freezing water, and wandering grizzlies.

But now, I have a sailboat-­size hole in my heart, and a craving for the next big ­adventure gnawing at my belly.

The beer answers bravely. “We’re totally doing it. This June.”

“Seriously?” Her voice ­ratchets up an octave. 

“Dead serious.”

We talk for a while about what kind of boat we want (cheap but fast, bigger than a shoebox and hopefully slightly drier), as well as whether we should invite others (maybe one more if it’s a woman and she can suffer cheerfully). Then we talk for even longer about what kind of logo and sweatshirt we should make for our team (because there’s no such thing as a perfect boat, but a good hoodie can last for decades). We decide on a team name: Sail Like A Mother.

I’m too excited to sleep, so I roll out my sleeping bag in the cockpit and stare up at the glittery smear of the Milky Way. I picture braving the Strait of Juan de Fuca at night, rounding Cape Caution with 30-knot winds on the nose, and ringing the bell if (when!) we arrive in Ketchikan nine months from now.

The next day, I sail Sueños back across Flathead. The lake is just as empty, just as regal. The boat picks up speed with both sails fully loaded, cutting fast toward the little harbor with its bobbing boats.

My heart picks up speed too. Sailing alone has never scared me. It’s docking alone that gives me nightmares.

The old finger docks at Dayton Yacht Harbor are wobbly, narrow and made of ancient, splintery planks. There are no cleats, just a rusty metal pylon at one end and chains looped around boards on the other. Since it’s a weekday in September, the docks are deserted. No one is around to lend a hand.

Talk about adventure.

A couple hundred yards away, I do my deck-scramble dance to take down the sails and put out the fenders. I loop an extra-long bow line on the forward cleat and a stout stern line on the port side. I gauge the wind. It’s behind me, of course, to make this even harder. 

I take deep breaths and mutter: “You got this. You got this.” Leaning over the stern, I maneuver the sputtering outboard and tiller at the same time to turn into the slip. At the last minute, I throw it in reverse and leap onto the precarious dock with both lines in hand. I quickly wrap the stern line around the pylon and hold on tight to the bow line, hoping that I don’t fall into the lake. Sueños settles safely. Whew.

Before I go back to my family, I sit in the cockpit for a few minutes. Soaking in the mountains. Remembering past voyages. Planning a new one. Thanking the universe for the gift of people who are willing to travel beside me on wild, watery paths.

Brianna Randall is a writer based in Montana. Her stories have appeared in National Geographic, BBC, The Washington Post, Outside, CNN, Discover and plenty of sailing magazines. Follow her and the (comedic) exploits of Team Sail Like A Mother at briannarandall.com. 

The post Northern Exposure: Sailing Montana’s Flathead Lake appeared first on Cruising World.

Boat-show season is back, and manufacturers are bringing their A game. With the pandemic slowdown now a fading memory, the industry has a fresh lineup of sailboats. Whether you’re in the market for a weekend cruiser, an island-hopper or a bluewater passagemaker, there’s plenty to explore on the docks this fall. 

This year’s new models include a fusion of tried-and-true designs and technological innovations. Expect to find improvements in safety, performance and layout as well.

The following pages offer a preview of significant launches you’re likely to see on the docks this fall and in the coming year. Several of these vessels are scheduled to be included in the judging for Cruising World’s 2025 Boat of the Year contest. You can follow the URLs for a deeper dive into boats that pique your interest, and inspect them in person at some of this season’s major boat shows. 

Allures 51.9

A powerful 52-footer that begs for bluewater cruising, this aluminum monohull is designed for families or couples. Its hull, penned by the team at Berret-Racoupeau, is defined by lightweight construction, twin rudders, and a centerboard for easy handling. Below, the interior sports a modern vibe with lots of natural light, a well-appointed galley, and a full-beam owners’ stateroom aft. Safety features include a watertight bulkhead and protected rudders, making the Allures 51.9 worth a look for oceangoing cruisers, with points awarded for style. allures.com

Bali 5.8 Open Space

Catana Group is touting the feeling of spaciousness aboard the Bali 5.8. It’s a 59-footer­ with nearly 20 percent more room than its peers, according to the builder. The master stateroom’s shower is a size more typically found in landside homes, and the guest staterooms are spacious enough to rival the master’s on some competing boats. The boat’s layout includes a galley big enough to feed owners and plenty of guests, a salon that’s a social hub, and outdoor spaces to spread out and relax. Sailhandling is intended to make life on deck easy and efficient. bali-catamarans.com

Bavaria C46

Bavaria’s C46 builds on the strong foundation of the C Line. Penned by Cossutti Yacht Design, which is known for fast regatta and racing yachts, the 46 has a revamped rig-sail concept. Don’t be fooled by the size; it’s reportedly friendly to handle, whether singlehanding or with crew. Belowdecks, the C46 has clever layout options with a focus on privacy. There’s an owners’ stateroom, a utility room and a salon filled with natural light. Notable details on this model include an integrated bowsprit and thoughtfully placed instrument displays. bavariayachts.com

Catalina 6 Series 

Catalina has introduced the 6 Series, an evolution in its line of sailboats derived from both in-house R&D and direct owner feedback. Applicable to Catalina models from the 276 to the 446, features of the 6 Series include upgraded keel designs for improved performance and stability, a new Seldén mast and rigging for enhanced control and efficiency, a new mainsheet system, and modern comforts such as upgraded ports, steering pedestals, a monitoring system, diesel heating system options and more. catalinayachts.com

Current Marine 46

Light, fast and agile, the CM46 is a performance-oriented catamaran designed for cruising and racing. Conceived from a groundwork of more than 40 multihull projects, the 46 is an example of the Knysna, South Africa-based builder’s expertise in lightweight construction. Its efficient hull and balanced sail plan are tuned for speed and responsiveness, even in light winds. Twin outboard helms provide good visibility and ease of handling. Inside, accommodations are for eight people in three or four double-berth staterooms, with enough stowage for liveaboard cruising. currentmarine.com

Dufour 44

In a collaborative effort with Felci Yacht Design, Dufour Yachts has unveiled its latest model, the Dufour 44. The idea is to provide a balanced cruising experience of equal parts performance and onboard living. Sleek hull and responsive handling? Check. Loads of interior space? Check. Inviting cockpit for line handling and entertaining? Check. Versatile layout options to accommodate the whole family? Check. Luca Ardizio’s interior emphasizes natural light. The owners’ stateroom is plush, with social spaces throughout to share with guests. dufour-yachts.com 

Elan GT6 Explorer

The GT6 Explorer builds on the platform of the award-­winning Elan GT6, a shorthanded Mediterranean midrange fast cruiser. In collaboration with Studio F.A. Porsche and Humphreys Yacht Design, the builder made key enhancements, including a 3D Vail hull; increased stiffness and enhanced hull mechanics; watertight bulkheads; a staysail forestay; and a sturdy cockpit arch, allowing better protection from the elements. Interior modifications for long-range living include lee cloth installation mounts, a washing machine and dishwasher, and integrated grab rails. The Explorer can also be equipped with a ­1,187-watt-peak solar array. elan-yachts.com

Fountaine Pajot Thira 80

Anyone in the market for a private island should first have a look at Fountaine Pajot’s Thira 80. This French builder’s new flagship has innovative side deck lounges with retractable balconies that create a superyacht ambience. Customizable interiors allow owners to personalize the space with premium materials such as Pierre Frey upholstery. The owners’ stateroom has the option for a sauna, hammam or whirlpool. And the boat still sticks the landing under sail, as a Fountaine Pajot should. fountaine-pajot.com

Grand Soleil 52 Performance  

Penned in a collaboration with Matteo Polli and Nauta Design, the Grand Soleil 52 Performance line is available in two versions: Performance and Race. On the Performance version, owners get an “easy-sailing” deck and sail plan with four aft winches, mainsail sheet with fixed point, self-tacking jib and carbon bowsprit as standard. The Race version gets 6 winches, longitudinal rails for the jib, recessed mainsail traveler, larger sail plan and a longer carbon bowsprit. Recessed rigging means a more comfortable cockpit. The plush interior features a large dinette, loads of storage, an ergonomic and fully equipped C-shaped galley, and three staterooms including a master suite forward. grandsoleil.net

Hanse 360

If you’ve ever been to a boat show, you’ve likely heard a salesman say, “It has space comparable to a much larger boat.” Here, a builder lives up to it. The interior of the Hanse 360 is intended to impress shoppers looking at 40-footers. From the cockpit to the staterooms, the 360 strikes a nice balance between form and functionality. Handling should be a breeze for solo sailors or families thanks to a self-tacking jib, twin helms and an advanced control system. The naval architects at Berret-Racoupeau have designed an able performer, with a hydrodynamic hull and efficient sail plan. The option for electric propulsion and sustainable sailcloth is a plus for environmentally conscious cruisers. hanseyachts.com

Island Packet 42 Motor Sailer

After years of hinting about a bold new tack, Largo, Florida-based Island Packet has unveiled its Motor Sailer 42. A cruiser’s cruiser that honors the brand’s heritage, the 42MS blends the comforts of a stout trawler with the cruising characteristics of a pedigreed sailing yacht. Light and livability reign supreme on the dual-level design. Up top, an open-­concept plan marries the salon and galley into a social space. On the lower level, privacy awaits with a variety of accommodation configurations, stowage solutions and easy engine-room access. ipy.com

Jeanneau Sun Odyssey 350

The Sun Odyssey 350 is a user-­friendly cruiser that carries forward from the Sun Odyssey 349. A new hull enhances performance and maneuverability, while walk-around side decks and twin steering wheels improve safety and control. The spacious, light-filled interior creates a welcoming atmosphere for family cruising. With a focus on practicality, the 350 is a nice package for coastal cruisers. jeanneau.com

J/40

Designed for speed and stability, the J/40 from the Newport, Rhode Island-based builder excels in both light- and heavy-wind conditions. Its user-friendly sail plan and balanced helm make it an option for experienced sailors and novices alike. The spacious cockpit, with 360-­degree visibility, is intended for entertaining as much as sailing. Belowdecks, the J/40 has modern interiors with loads of natural light and thoughtful layouts perfect for cruising or racing. Built with J/Composites’ infusion technology, the J/40 is as durable as it is enjoyable to sail. jboats.com

Lagoon 43

VPLP Design, Patrick Le Quement and Nauta Design have proved a winning combination on previous Lagoon models, and the Lagoon 43 has a similar pedigree. Intended for cruising couples or young families, the 43 can be ordered in a three- or four-stateroom version that’s outfitted with six to 13 berths—and the staterooms are larger than on previous models. (In the three-stateroom version, the entire starboard hull is an owners’ suite.) Redesigned access via an extra aft entryway for each hull makes movement around the boat easier. catamarans-lagoon.com

Leopard 46

The Leopard 46 is an evolution from its predecessor, the 45, blending bluewater capability with cutting-edge design. While maintaining Leopard’s signature seaworthiness and easy handling, the 46 introduces a refined interior and enhanced performance through stepped hulls and a powerful rig. A standout feature is the integration of the aft cockpit and salon, creating a vast, versatile living space when needed. Four spacious double cabins are standard, with an optional fifth cabin or a utility room. Optional electric drives offer eco-conscious cruising and silent running. leopardcatamarans.com

Moody DS48

The Moody DS48 follows in the footsteps of its award-winning predecessor, the DS41, combining the spaciousness of a catamaran with the handling of a monohull. Its rigid hull, chines, and 1,680-square-foot sail area deliver speed and stability. The Decksaloon concept includes an open living space that integrates the galley, salon and cockpit on a single level with panoramic views. Belowdecks, the DS48 has accommodations options, including a private owners’ stateroom. With a focus on customization, this yacht is designed for extended cruising and leisurely exploration. moody-yachts.com

Nautitech 48 Open

The final design from naval architect Marc Lombard, the Nautitech 48 Open is a performance-oriented catamaran with light displacement and nimble handling thanks to long, slim keels. Its reverse bow and chine hull yield the brand’s trademark low profile and impressive performance. The 48 Open has nearly 1,400 square feet of sail area, easily managed by electric winches and well-placed controls. A standout feature is the twin outboard helms, providing excellent visibility. The interior is spacious, with a living area that focuses on functionality. nautitechcatamarans.com

Neel 52

Also penned by naval architect Marc Lombard, the Neel 52 is a high-performance trimaran designed for fast cruising. With an average cruising speed of 10 knots—capable of reaching up to 18 knots in favorable conditions—and its ability to cover 200 nautical miles in a day, this boat is intended for serious sailors. Constructed with a composite sandwich core, the Neel 52 prioritizes strength and water resistance perfect for serious offshore passages. Yet, this trimaran also caters to leisure cruising, with a spacious cockpit, a “cockloon” living ­area, and panoramic salon views. neel-trimarans.com

Outremer 52

Long before winning Multihull of the Year at the European Yacht of the Year Awards for its 52-footer, Outremer had grown a serious fan base, and its boats are often crowd-pleasers. The 52 blends the best of its predecessors—the award-winning 51 and 55—into a stylish, seaworthy package. There is carbon-fiber construction for strength and lightness, roomy interiors with customizable options, and a layout that’s as practical as it is pretty. With features such as adjustable helm positions and a cockpit bar, this boat is built for comfort and adventure. catamaran-outremer.com

Pegasus 50

The Slovenian-built Pegasus 50 offers fast, capable bluewater cruising with livability in mind. It has a lightweight carbon-­fiber hull and a double wing keel, which helps to reduce leeway and improve upwind performance. Its layout, including a convertible cockpit roof and open-plan living areas, makes it feel larger than its LOA suggests. The Pegasus 50 also has a powerful sail plan, paired with electric winches, making shorthanding a breeze. The watermaker, generator and solar panels prime this yacht for extended offshore passages. pegasus-yachts.com

St Francis 460 Hybrid Sailing Catamaran

The St Francis 46 is a bluewater catamaran designed for comfort cruising. In a collaboration with designers Anton Du Toit of Du Toit Yacht Design and Angelo Lavranos, the 460 focuses on performance and handling. Its interior has large windows and a versatile galley/salon area, and options are a three- or four-stateroom layout. The 460 is built with an epoxy-based hull and deck, and is equipped with premium brands, including Yanmar engines, Sparcraft masts and North sails. stfranciscatamarans.com 

Tartan 335

Catering to the experienced sailor and the weekend cruiser, the Tartan 335 blends traditional aesthetics with modern technology. This couples cruiser has all the true Tartan contours: just the right amount of spring to the sheerline, a purposeful bow profile, and a classic transom, complemented by a deckhouse and cockpit coamings with sweet, sweeping lines. The 335 has an ­open-layout interior with stowage and amenities for real cruising. Advanced composite construction, including a carbon mast and rudder, contributes to the 335’s speed and responsiveness, while the well-balanced sail plan and low center of gravity enhance the sailing experience. tartanyachts.com

Vision 444 ES

Many big cruising cats are a compromise by design: Some go to private owners, while the rest go into charter. The Vision 444 is different. This is a pure cruising cat, and a fine one at that. The Vision 444 that won Best Cruising Catamaran Under 50 Feet in last year’s Boat of the Year competition was designed and built for bluewater challenges and self-reliant cruising couples. So is the next-gen 444 ES. It brings hull-design tweaks enabling positive buoyancy aft, along with a longer waterline and a better platform. It also removes a step in the transom, and allows for five carbon-fiber struts abaft the coachroof for better solar-panel placement. visionyachts.com

Windelo 50

The Windelo 50 is a French-built catamaran that blends performance with sustainability. It has a sleek new look, upgraded features, and a focus on eco-friendliness. The centerline helm amidships provides great visibility and control for easier maneuvering. There’s also an electric-propulsion concept, combined with solar and hydro power, allowing for autonomy and a reduced carbon footprint. The powerful rig and daggerboards create a catamaran that’s as fun to sail as it is friendly to the planet. windelo-catamaran.com

Xquisite Yachts Sixty Solar Sail

Xquisite’s Sixty Solar Sail is an eco-friendly, sun-powered sailing machine. With its solar panels and battery bank, owners can kiss diesel generators goodbye. Sail controls are laid out for singlehanding, and there’s a carbon-fiber boom and furling mainsail, along with an electric traveler. Homey amenities include a multizone Fusion Apollo sound system, a full-height double-door fridge/freezer, a dishwasher and a vented washer/dryer. Up top, a drawer-style drink fridge means nobody has to go below to grab a cold beverage. xquisiteyachts.com

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