Le Boat has unveiled new experiences for 2025 that showcase the historic canals of France.

The company offers bareboating options in multiple regions of France. They include the Canal du Midi, The River Lot, Camargue, Alsace-Lorraine and the Charente Valley. New for 2025 are moorings in Narbonne and Angoulême.

Narbonne, a town in the Canal du Midi, is home to France’s largest outdoor food market. The market, called Les Halles, has stalls with local wines, olives, tapenades, cakes and pastries. Narbonne also has ancient buildings such as the St. Just and St. Pasteur Cathedral and the Archbishop’s Palace.

Angoulême, located in the Charente region, has numerous fortifications that were built during historical conflicts. Today, it is home to restaurants and boutiques. Downtown, visitors can discover monuments such as the City Hall, a former castle.

Is France the only place to book a bareboat through Le Boat? Not even close. The company operates in various parts of Europe as well as Canada, with a fleet of boats that are suitable for couples, families and groups of friends. No boat license or prior boat experience is required.

Where to learn more: go to leboat.com

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The Moorings has announced the latest addition to its portfolio of sailing destinations: La Paz, Mexico. Bareboat and skippered charters aboard sail and power catamarans are available for winter 2024 departures. 

Nestled along the stunning shores of the Sea of Cortez, La Paz provides sailors with effortless access to one of the most biodiverse marine ecosystems in the world. Fondly dubbed “The World’s Aquarium” by Jacques Cousteau, the area is surrounded by uninhabited islands, secluded beaches, towering mountains and breathtaking scenery, offering sailors easy navigation, sand-bottom anchorages and a sheltered cruising area. Here, adventurers can explore deserted islands, tranquil beaches and awe-inspiring mountains while taking part in myriad activities including hiking, snorkeling, fishing and birdwatching.

With bookings now available for charters beginning in December 2024, The Moorings fleet in La Paz will feature a mix of Leopard catamarans, both sail and power. 

“We are delighted to be adding La Paz to The Moorings’ portfolio of luxury sailing destinations,” said Ian Pederson, senior marketing manager at The Moorings. “Driven largely by customer feedback, this new destination promises to be a firm favorite with its serene waters, diverse marine life and stunning landscapes, offering an unparalleled charter experience to guests of every experience level. La Paz is the ideal destination for power cruisers and sailors alike to slow down and reconnect with nature in its purest form.”

For more information, click on over to The Moorings website.

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Charter company Sunsail has unveiled its newest charter/flotilla offerings, including a week’s voyage from Dubrovnik, Croatia, and a new flotilla route from Lefkas, Greece. Departures will be available starting in summer 2025.

“Libertas” Flotilla in Dubrovnik, Croatia

Libertas, which means freedom, is the theme of Sunsail’s new flotilla from Dubrovnik in Croatia, which includes a packed schedule where guests follow in the footsteps of famous explorers as they sail along the Dalmatian Coast. Guests will have the opportunity to experience the unique tidal lakes of Mljet National Park, catch some rays on the many beautiful beaches and enjoy a short island hop in the week-long sailing adventure.

The adventure starts in the medieval walled city of Dubrovnik Old Town, where guests can explore the bustling streets and history of the iconic Croatian town before island hopping around the country’s coastline.

“This new flotilla is a great entry point for those who are new to sailing, while being perfect locations for families and groups who want to explore somewhere new,” said Caroline Barbour, UK marketing manager for Sunsail. “The flotilla route also offers new and experienced sailors the chance to relish in both old and new Croatia, whilst immersing themselves in the breathtaking views and experiences of the stunning islands, coupled with the options of watersports activities and delicious eateries.” 

Libertas Dubrovnik: A One-Week Itinerary

Day One – Old Town Dubrovnik: Arrive early and relax to admire the medieval walled city of the Old Town and walk between palaces, citadels and churches.

Day Two – Suđuarđ, Šipan Island: Cruise up the Kolocepski Channel toward the lush island of Šipan, the largest of the Elaphiti Islands and glide along the coast, before dropping anchor to explore Lopud Island’s white sandy beaches and the citrus groves. Mooring in the sheltered harbor of Suđurađ, with the chance to discover the historic island’s 16th century watchtower, built to protect the town from marauding pirates.

Day Three – Polače, Mljet Island: Journey across the Adriatic Sea to Polače on Mljet Island, navigating the stunning coastline and crystal-clear waters, with the rugged beauty of the Croatian islands all around. Upon arrival, a serene bay surrounded by lush greenery awaits, perfect for a refreshing swim and snorkeling, among the tranquil atmosphere and camaraderie of fellow sailors.

Day Four – Korčula Island: The medieval charm of Korčula Town offers narrow, winding streets to explore and a sunset stroll along the waterfront, before a savory meal in one of its delicious restaurants with a vibrant ambiance.

Day Five – Free sail day: Embrace a day of exploration, whether it’s discovering hidden coves, relaxing on secluded beaches or exploring charming coastal villages.

Day Six – Okuklje, Mljet Island: Sail on the glassy Adriatic Sea to the island of Mljet, passing through a small gulf between the tree-topped islets of Otok Olipa and Otok Jakljan, before entering the sheltered bay of Okuklje. Swimming and snorkeling are highly recommended.

Day Seven – ACI Marina Dubrovnik: Finish an epic adventure exploring the modern facilities, excellent services and easy access to the vibrant city of Dubrovnik, fulfilling last-minute trips and eateries, while taking in the magnificent views and scenery.

At time of press, prices quoted for a one-week Libertas Dubrovnik Flotilla, departing in summer 2025, start from approximately $2,400 (with the Early Booking Offer), based on two people, and includes a fully equipped Sunsail monohull, flotilla fee, tourism tax, support from a lead yacht, assistance with moorings at each stop and marine park permit. At each daily morning briefing, the lead crew advises on the day’s sailing, ideal routes, weather conditions and hidden gems to discover. 

Kefalonia Flotilla in Lefkas, Greece

Sunsail has also introduced a new flotilla route for Lefkas, Greece, from the summer of 2025. The new route will take guests from Lefkas Marina through Sivota in Lefkada into Kefalonia and Vathi, Meganissi, before returning to Lefkas again. The seven-day trip explores the historic islands and sparkling Ionian Sea, featuring sheltered anchorages, calm conditions and spectacular views. Currently, prices start from approximately $3,700 (with the Early Booking Offer) for two people across seven days. 

“We have refined our ever-popular Lefkas flotilla, offering guests even more opportunity to explore Greece’s Ionian Coast and many of the Islands, including the imposing ruins of the medieval Santa Maura Fortress, exhilarating watersports the island is loved for, or simply to relax on the quiet beaches,” said Barbour.

Sunsail urges that its flotillas are ideal for first-time sailors and families, where guests can experience the Ionian’s most unmissable sights with a group of new friends.

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Andrew Thompson answers his phone breathless, having just come ashore from the afternoon’s racing activity. “I’m on a busman’s holiday in the UK sailing my ‘Solo” – a 12-foot dinghy in a super-competitive fleet,” he explains. To say that the founder and director of Horizon Yacht Charters is passionate about sailing is an understatement. He lives and breathes life on the water.

Thirty years ago, a nine-month contract to run the watersports program for a five-star hotel on Virgin Gorda enticed the Englishman to the British Virgin Islands. In 1998 he co-founded Horizon Yacht Charters, and today Thompson is fully entrenched in the Caribbean life.

“Clearly I love it,” he laughs. “I certainly have a disposition for watersports and windsports. We kitesurf, we wingfoil; it’s just spectacular.”

Thompson is humble about his enviable sailing experience and accomplishments, which include myriad regatta-class wins, and more than 50,000 sea miles. Providing a charter experience that is far above and beyond the norm is his passion.

What began as a fledgling charter operation with three boats has expanded into a fleet of nearly 60 sailing yachts, including monohulls and catamarans, between 34 and 65 feet. Horizon Yacht Charters operates from two locations: the headquarters on Tortola in the BVI and another location on St. Vincent in the Grenadines. From learn-to-sail to bareboat and skippered to luxury crewed, Horizon offers the full complement of yacht charters—with the option of a private-jet charter in tandem. Thompson credits the company’s longevity to its relationship with its discerning yacht owners and charter clients.

A Stone’s Throw From the Dock

“Our clients know everyone in our reservations department,” Thompson says. “There’s Courtney, who has been with the company for 26 years; Christalen, who joined in 2006; and Sandra, who came on board in 2018. Kaleigh runs the crewed-yacht division, and everyone knows our operations director, Henry, who runs the dock.

“Our staff are right there,” Thompson continues. “Our guests aren’t dealing with a remote office or with someone who has never been to the location or on the boats they’re looking to book. When you book a boat with us at our Caribbean locations, you’re booking a specific boat, not just that model. Our reservation team have been on every boat and often walk clients through the yachts virtually to show the immaculate condition, the layout and specific equipment. They are a stone’s throw from the dock and are very integrated into the whole business.”

Perfectionism at Its Finest

The majority of the owners of the boats in Horizon’s fleet are sailors, and with that comes an expectation that the boat will be maintained to the highest standards.

“We have a long-standing relationship with the yards that build the boats for our fleet, and we have a commitment to the owners to maintain the boats in pristine condition. We can keep boats in our fleet up to eight years because we keep up with the maintenance. I’m a bit of a perfectionist in that area.

“We keep the canvas, sails, cosmetics, mechanicals and electrics in top condition,” he continues. “Each bareboat charter application is carefully reviewed to ensure that the charterer has the appropriate amount of knowledge and experience for the particular vessel. On the docks, there is not a stack pack open, the main sails are put away. That is the attention to detail and the day-to-day of how we operate. These standards are the bedrock to the experience.”

As the company grew, Thompson knew he didn’t want to spend his life on a plane trying to manage fleets all over the world to his exacting standards. So he developed a points system and a worldwide sailing program that allows an owner use of his own boat in the BVI/Caribbean and aboard other boats in partner fleets worldwide.

The Horizon Yacht Charters Difference

Charter guests who want to sail farther afield than the BVI/Caribbean don’t have to venture out on their own; Horizon Yacht Charters offers the same personalized service through a brokerage arrangement with preferred fleet operators in the USVI, Bahamas and Croatia and beyond.

Yacht management and sales are integral to the charter operation, and through the Horizon Yacht Sales division, Thompson and his experienced team consult with owners on every aspect of a yacht purchase, covering the nuances of  builders, or boat models, factory options and bespoke customizations. The company is the authorized dealer for Nautitech Catamarans and Bavaria Yachts in the English speaking Caribbean and distributor for CNB brands including Lagoon, Beneteau, Jeanneau, and Excess, in addition to Fountaine Pajot among others.

Horizon is an American Sailing Association sailing school for its learn-to-sail charters and do offer some boats with asymmetric spinnakers. “We’ve had Quantum Sails design asymetric sails specifically for charter use,” he says. “It electrifies your performance downwind. We are the only charter company to offer these boats.

“We live and breathe the sport of sailing, and we do it to a very high standard. That’s what I’m most proud of,” Thompson continues. “We are a very knowledgeable team passionate about putting out immaculate boats and giving people a great experience. If they want to learn more, we have a sailing school. We can also arrange for excursions such as diving, mountain biking, kitesurfing, hiking and snorkeling. We aren’t just another charter company.”

For more information, please visit: horizonyachtcharters.com

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It’s not every day that a yacht-charter company renews its fleet of available boats all around the world—but that’s exactly what Dream Yacht Worldwide has done in the Caribbean and beyond, adding dozens of new yachts to its 40 bases all around the globe. 

“This fleet update represents a significant step forward,” says Loïc Bonnet, founder of Dream Yacht Worldwide. “It has been several years since we have undertaken a renewal on such a scale, integrating the latest boat models with premium equipment, to guarantee our customers an exceptional experience at sea.”

In the Bahamas and British Virgin Islands—which sit at the top of many American sailors’ lists for must-visit cruising destinations—the new models include Bali’s 4.4, 4.6 and 5.4, Fountaine Pajot’s Isla 40, Lagoon’s 42, the Dufour 390, and Jeanneau’s Sun Odyssey 410. 

There’s a lot to like about all these models, which include catamarans and monohulls alike. They give charter clients the kinds of modern amenities and features that make cruising a true home-away-from-home experience, as well as an exhilarating ride out on the water.

Aboard the Bali 5.4, for instance, the flybridge has cushioned wraparound seating in addition to a large sun bed. Side decks are wide for easy transit around the boat, and handling is made easier by a self-tacking jib and large electric winches. On the main deck, a tilt-open door creates a true indoor-outdoor entertainment space, allowing for an open-air experience at the push of a button. 

On Fountaine Pajot’s Isla 40, just some of the modern amenities include a dinette with wraparound seating in the cockpit, along with wide transom steps that make it easier to get into the water (and to step off the boat for some fun ashore). Forward, there are sun loungers for catching the rays by day or for stargazing at night. In the salon, 360-degree panoramic windows and overhead skylights make the space feel bright and open, even at times when charter clients want to relax and rejuvenate inside.  

The Lagoon 42 also is chockablock with creature comforts and smart features. Experienced sailors might notice that the rig is moved farther aft, and that the boat has a high-aspect mainsail and self-tacking jib, enhancing performance and making handling easier in all conditions. For those who simply want to chill on board, there’s a sunbathing lounge on the coachroof. In the cockpit aft, the platform and transom steps have been widened to allow even more room for leisure activities and relaxation.

These and all the other newly added boats are kept at Dream Yacht bases, which comprise the largest network of charter destinations in the world. 

Infrastructure in the Bahamas is looking particularly spiffy for the upcoming season, having been repaired following Hurricane Dorian in 2019. More and more boaters are returning to the hard-hit Abacos archipelago in the Bahamas while continuing to enjoy the quiet island chain of the Exumas. The beach bars and restaurants are once again a super-fun scene, with locals eager to extend a warm smile, a soothing rum cocktail, and some zesty conch fritters.

For this winter’s charter season, there’s also news in the French West Indies, which is the part of the Caribbean that includes the island of St. Martin: Dream Yacht Worldwide has moved 30 new yachts into the region to accommodate an increase in inquiries. That means even more islands that can be explored with unmatched creature comforts and amenities, from the spectacular shopping and dining on St. Barts to the quiet outposts and pink-sand beaches on Anguilla.

Also notable is the option to book by-the-cabin itineraries with Dream Yacht Charter. While passionate sailors might prefer to be at the helm themselves, cabin charters are a great option for solo travelers or couples who want to be out on the water, doing watersports, and relaxing—while a crew does the rest of the work. 

“If you’ve never spent an extended period of time on a sailing vessel, a cabin charter might be a good way to see how you feel about being so close to nature and out on the water for a week—and might inspire you to take up sailing classes yourself,” says Tina Huewe, US senior marketing executive with Dream Yacht Charter. “Older generations who might be past wanting to do all the work on board themselves might also enjoy this way of carefree cruising in breathtaking destinations.”

Cabin charters are available in 12 countries, usually aboard six-stateroom boats (each with its own head) that give everyone space to spread out and have privacy too. The packages come with scheduled itineraries, onboard meals and optional excursions. In French Polynesia and Thailand, more than one itinerary is available, giving guests the opportunity to discover different parts of the cruising grounds.

Frequent charterers might want to consider Dream Fractional, a program that allows for co-ownership of a sailing catamaran.

“This program makes being an owner a lot more affordable than regular ownership of a whole yacht,” Huewe explains. “Owners can potentially experience the thrill of yacht ownership and sail top destinations for less than the cost of chartering making this program popular with repeat charter guests.”

And, for charter clients interested in giving electric propulsion a try, Dream Yacht Worldwide now offers Fountain Pajot Aura 51 Smart Electric catamarans and Dufour 530 Smart Electric monohulls in five destinations throughout the Mediterranean. 

These electric-powered charter yachts are based in some of the most popular ports along France’s Côte d’Azur, the Italian islands of Sardinia and Sicily, the city of Naples on the Italian mainland, and the island of Mallorca in Spain’s Balearics archipelago.

“By partnering and supporting the research and development of electric yachts, we can continue to make sailing accessible to people around the world but with a lower impact on our seas and environment,” Bonnet says. “Being environmentally conscious is central to our mission to protect our planet and oceans, and we are confident that our charter clients will support this endeavor.”

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Oh, my God,” the local kids shouted and giggled. One by one, they jumped into the water from the side of a concrete boat ramp and came to the surface, repeating what they had just heard us say as we did the same thing to cool off after a long afternoon of chart and boat briefings at The Moorings charter base on Raiatea, a gem of a destination in the Leeward Islands of French Polynesia. 

From the water, I watched their mothers chatting the late Sunday afternoon away in the shade of a stand of trees. To the north, I took in the unfamiliar shapes of the daymarks lining the channels, and the coral between our harbor swimming hole and the island of Taha’a, a couple of miles away. It was all but impossible to keep my eyes off the iconic rocky peak of Mount Otemanu, shrouded in tropical haze on Bora Bora, some 20 miles to the northwest. I’d seen it in pictures hundreds of times as I read South Pacific adventure tales. 

But now, oh, my God, indeed: Here we were. We were going sailing. In Tahiti.

It took three days to get there from ­wintry Boston, with an evening stopover in Los Angeles and a second night spent in a hotel in French Polynesia’s capital city, Papeete. From there, photographer Jon Whittle and I, along with the trip’s organizer, Josie Tucci from Sunsail, and one her friends from Florida took a morning flight on a small commuter plane to Uturoa, Raiatea’s main commune. Our travels ended with a short cab ride to the Sunsail docks nearby. For the next few hours, eight more sailing and golfing friends of Tucci’s wandered in, ready to help celebrate her big 5-0 aboard two roomy cruising cats: a Sunsail 505 for the birthday girl, and Magic Dancer II, a Sunsail 454, for Whittle, me and overflow guests.

Most of the sailing we’d be doing for the next 10 days would be around the large islands that sit inside extensive coral barrier reefs, so the chart briefing was quite detailed. A local skipper went over aids to navigation, points of interest, anchorages and the like. He stressed to us North American sailors that Lateral System A is used in this part of the world, with red marks left to port, not starboard, when entering passes from the open water. Inside the lagoons, square red daymarks designate dangers toward land; green triangles show hazards along the reef; and various configurations of triangles atop poles indicate whether to leave obstructions to the north, south, east or west. We took detailed notes on large paper charts and downloaded a cruising guide PDF that would be consulted frequently throughout the trip.

There are four main islands within the group. Two of them, Raiatea and Taha’a, are quite close and within the same barrier reef. Between them lie well-marked shallows and coral beds, so sailing back and forth is fairly simple. 

Bora Bora and Huahine are another story. To reach them, open-water passages of about 20 miles are required, with a long slog upwind either going or returning, depending on the island. Early-morning departures are required so that upon arrival, passes can be navigated while the sun is high. An eye on the weather is also recommended because conditions can get boisterous.

Midafternoon, the briefing formalities were put on hold for nearly an hour when a troupe of local musicians and dancers came to welcome us. They handed out leis and headbands made from colorful local flowers, including tiare apetahi blossoms, which grow only high in Raiatea’s mountainous interior. The men sat with their instruments and played Polynesian tunes while the dancers, a mix of women and children, twirled and shimmied their grass skirts in lively routines handed down from their ancestors.

It being a Sunday, all stores had closed at noon, so provisioning had to wait until Monday. Early in the day, a couple of us from each boat took a taxi to the Champion market in downtown Uturoa, a bustling urban area where the cruise ships dock. Though all of the islands in the group have grocery stores of some sort, we were advised to get the bulk of our provisions here. The market was well-stocked, but with all goods needing to be shipped in across the vast Pacific, prices were steep.

Back at the boats, we loaded supplies and topped off water tanks. By late morning, it was time for the adventures to begin. First stop: Passe Rautoanui, an opening through the reef on the northwest side of the island. 

As we approached, we picked out the cardinal marks indicating the opening. White waves crashed on the coral reefs to either side, but the water between them was dark blue and deep. Outside, we rounded up into an offshore breeze gusting to 20 knots or so. We went with a single reef in the main, unfurled the genoa, and settled in for an easy reach south to Passe Punaeroa, about 8 nautical miles away.

Ashore, the mountaintops disappeared into the haze and clouds. The colors—blue sky, green jungle, white breakers on the reef—were spectacular and everything I’d imagined French Polynesia would be.

Back inside the lagoon, Tucci’s boat led the way along a narrow channel around the southern end of the island to a tiny anchorage behind Motu Nao Nao. We’d been told during the briefing that there’s room for only three or so boats, and there was already a large monohull there, so we aboard Magic Dancer II opted for a mooring a mile or so away in deep water off another small motu, or island. We took the inflatable across to join the festivities underway aboard what already had become the party boat. Nao Nao was the perfect place to spend a hot afternoon with a cold beverage and snacks. A few of us took off snorkeling over the nearby coral heads. It was an excellent transition to island time. 

With evening approaching and the sky clouding over, I hopped into the dinghy alone, figuring I’d make better time motoring solo back to Magic Dancer. I didn’t make it far from the swimming hole, though, before the sky turned black. Time to turn back to the cat that stayed at anchor to ride it out? Nah. I pressed on and almost at once got gobbled up in a white squall that came rolling through with ferocious gusts, stinging rain, and lots of lightning. That was a dinghy ride to remember.

Tuesday, we continued the counterclockwise tour of Raiatea, the largest island in the Leeward Group. Late morning, we anchored in about 30 feet of water, deep in Baie De Fa’aroa, a fjord located about halfway up the island’s eastern side. From there, several of us took two inflatables up the Apoomau River. We were told that it’s the only river trip in all of French Polynesia, and we soon discovered spectacular glimpses of Mount Tefatuaiti with its towering rock walls and deep valleys shrouded with mist. Our destination was the botanical garden near the headwaters. 

It was slow-going, with many sunken trees and shallow spots to dodge. Along the way, we met a local man who, for a modest fee, paddled his faded orange kayak ahead of us and gave us a guided tour of the gardens. On the way back, we stopped at his camp, where his wife and daughter wielded machetes to cut up coconuts, red papayas, grapefruits and bananas for us. We ate so much fruit that we almost didn’t need the lunch of shrimp curry and rice that Tucci’s sailing mate, Paula, had cooked while we were gone.

Later that afternoon, we tried to visit the small village of Marae, home to an ancient Polynesian temple, but the holding was poor and evening was coming, so instead we found a sandy spot to anchor on the reef off Pointe Tamapua. The crew voted to go ashore for dinner at the Opoa Beach Restaurant, where the ginger tiger shrimp were indeed a delicacy, as ­promised on the menu.

Early Wednesday morning, the big-boat crew set off for the airport in Uturoa to pick up a late-arriving guest. We lingered a bit for a swim and breakfast before hoisting sails and reaching across flat water along the shore. At the top of the island, we found the marks for a channel skirting Grand Banc Central shallows, which lie between Raiatea and Taha’a, and crossed for a lunchtime rendezvous with the big boat in Baie Apu, an anchorage on the southern end of Taha’a. 

From there, we motored up the west side of the island until we spotted the Motu Tautau and a cluster of luxury bungalows built out over the water, the La Taha’a by Pearl Resorts. We anchored just south of them in a sandy spot with about 7 feet of water. The breeze was brisk, so I stayed behind to watch the boats while the rest of the crew took the tenders and motored past the resort to a channel between a pair of small motus. Once they secured the boats, they walked up-current along the shore of one of the islets, and then jumped in for a fast snorkel back to where they’d started. Everyone returned raving about the ride.

For me, the highlight of the trip came the next day, when our little armada set off for Bora Bora. After a brief motorsail south to clear the reef through Passe Papai, we killed the engines and started off on what would be our longest day of sailing. 

Out of the lee of Taha’a, Magic Dancer lived up to its name, slicing and surfing through big trade-wind swells. According to the chart, our desired heading was 293 degrees, but trying to steer that in a blustery southeast breeze of 15 to 20 knots proved nearly impossible because of the constant threat of an accidental jibe and the jib being blanketed. Instead, we crisscrossed the rhumb line on a series of broad reaches—each one bringing the towering peak of Mount Temanu more clearly into focus—until we finally spotted the iconic light that marks Pointe Te Turi Roa on the southeast corner of the reef surrounding Bora Bora.

Along the way, we spotted flocks of birds diving for baitballs roiled up by tuna and other big fish. Occasionally, an interisland freighter or fishing boat came into view, but for the most part, we were on our own, out on a great big sea, surrounded by whitecaps and having a ball. Or at least some of us were. The others, well, they spent the time nursing cases of mal de mer.

The birthday boat was ahead of us at the light, but by radio we called them back so that Whittle could launch a drone and get photos of the two cats sailing along the edge of the reef. It was a surreal scene: the boats side by side on a deep blue ocean, a long line of frothy white surf where the swells piled up on the coral, the tranquil lagoon just beyond with the lush green island in its center. Overhead, the white clouds had greenish-blue bottoms because of the sunlight reflecting upward off the water. It was a lot to take in.

There is only one way in and out of Bora Bora: Passe De Teavanui, which is about halfway up the island’s western shore. It was midafternoon when we arrived, and once through it, we had a straight shot to the mooring field at the Bora Bora Yacht Club. We went ashore to the club for dinner and topped off the evening playing Boule, a bowling game, on sand courts near the bar.

Friday morning, a few of us walked the shore road to an ATV trail cut into the jungle-covered hillside. It was a steep climb to the top, but the reward was a stunning view of the lagoon below and a couple of cruise ships that had just arrived.

That afternoon, we got underway and followed a twisting channel inside the reef across the top of the island and down the eastern side. Though it was windy, the breeze was, for the most part, on the nose, so we motored. To be honest, it was a nerve-racking trip through shallow water teeming with coral heads. Off to port, numerous resorts were built on stilts over the water and reef. They were well-marked on the chart and helpful as we tried to keep our bearings straight. 

Anchoring is not allowed within the reef at Bora Bora, but mooring balls are plentiful all around the island. We grabbed ones off a sandy beach at the southeast corner of the lagoon and settled in for an afternoon of swimming that slowly faded into star-filled night. Overhead, the Southern Cross and Orion kept us company.

In the morning, a few of us jumped into the inflatables with snorkels and fins and went exploring in a marine park by two small islets a mile or so away. There were a couple of tour boats from nearby resorts when we arrived, but soon they cleared out and we had the place to ourselves. We found fish and coral aplenty in 10 to 12 feet of water.

That afternoon, the trip back around the island was simple: All we had to do was follow the track we’d laid down on the chart plotter the day before. Near the north end of the island, a kayaker fell in behind us as we motored by at 6 knots. He hitched a ride on Magic Dancer’s wake for 2 or 3 miles. It was an impressive paddling demonstration that the fellow put on.

For lunch, we made a stop at Bloody Mary’s, a popular shoreside bar and restaurant. As we ate, a band appeared on stage and locals started to wander in for what seemed to be turning into a Saturday-afternoon ripper. We took it in for a while, then headed back to the boats and went to find a mooring out near the reef on the western edge of the lagoon.

The original plan was to head back to Raiatea on Sunday morning, and from there, sail to Huahine for a day. To pull it off, we’d need to keep moving, and personally, I was looking forward to three more long open-water crossings. But some of the others who’d suffered on the way up weren’t so keen. On any charter, and especially one with a large contingent of nonsailors, keeping the crew happy is ­paramount. So, it only made sense to scrap the plan. Instead of spending Sunday at sea, we’d play. Hard.

The next morning, we explored ­nearby sandy motus. In the shallow waters around them, we swam with small blacktip sharks and searched for rays. After lunch, we all kicked back on the big cat, where a couple of techs from the charter company appeared with a motorboat and wakeboard. The scene only became more festive as more powerboats filled with locals zipped by, many of them pulling tubes loaded with screaming kids.

Along toward sunset, as a dinner of chicken curry simmered on the stove, Tucci’s friends decorated the boat for the birthday bash that turned into a ­laugh-filled night of music and revelry.

Monday started slow. We motored back to the mooring field by Bloody Mary’s and made a provisioning run for supplies to last us to the end of the trip. Then we took the tenders across the shallows at the southern tip of Bora Bora that keep big boats at bay. Besides seeing the southern tip of the island, we wanted to check out the good snorkeling area we’d visited earlier. It was a long, wet ride in the small boats, but well worth it once we got there. Visibility was better, and the fish were easier to spot and more plentiful.

The sea was glassy and the wind was initially calm for our return to Taha’a on Tuesday. As we passed the lighthouse on the corner of the reef, a breeze began to stir, so we raised the main and motorsailed closehauled, pointing as high as we could. Then, with 6 miles to go, the wind suddenly kicked up to near 20 knots on the nose and brought with it waves that made it a slow slog the rest of way to the pass back through the reef at Taha’a.

Inside, we motored north again along the island’s west coast and picked up a mooring in Baie Tapuamu, across from where we’d anchored a week earlier. The big cat arrived soon after, and following lunch, we headed ashore for a tour of Domaine Pari Pari, a local rum distillery. The white rum had a raw taste to it, not anything like the Caribbean rums most of us were used to. But it was ­drinkable enough, poured over ice on a hot afternoon.

Wednesday was our last full day aboard the boats. In the morning, we took our snorkeling gear and went by inflatable a short way up the coast, where we were told we might find rays. Just when I thought we’d been skunked, I watched a single manta ray come up from the depths. It had about a 6-foot wingspan and wild-looking markings on its back. Most everyone got a glimpse of it gliding along the shallows before it disappeared back into the deep.

Back in the tenders, we pushed a bit farther north until we spotted a dock and buildings where we thought we might find a spot for lunch. Instead, we’d landed at the Iaorana Pearl Farm, said to be the largest in French Polynesia. The farm manages some 2 million oysters in the waters surrounding the island. 

We were introduced to a man whose job it is to sit at a desk and implant small pebbles taken from the Mississippi River and sent to Taha’a via Japan into some 300 oysters a day. The oysters are then affixed to strings and returned to the water for 18 months, when the pearls are ready to be harvested. Several of the crew purchased necklaces and such. It was hard to pass up such unique souvenirs from an unexpected stopover.

Midafternoon and back at the boat, it was time for one last motorsail, so we set off for Raiatea, where we dropped anchor on the reef, not far from the charter base. There was still swimming to be done and merriment to be had, but I could feel my sense of island time slipping away as we checked plane reservations and packed. That evening, we went ashore to the Fish & Blue restaurant for a last team dinner. And of course, we sat up a little too late for a last glimpse of the Southern Hemisphere’s night sky. What else would anyone do on their last night in the Society Islands?

Mark Pillsbury is a CW editor at large. 

If You Go

Our flights to Papeete, Tahiti, were booked on Air Tahiti Nui, which has regular flights from Los Angeles. From the US East Coast, it was easiest to plan an overnight at a Los Angeles hotel. Our flight across the Pacific was aboard a clean and comfortable plane, decorated in soothing tropical pastels. It’s a long flight but endurable.

From Papeete to Raiatea, we flew Air Tahiti. Flight time is just under two hours; a four and a half-hour ferry ride is a cheaper alternative.

Provisioning at the base in Raiatea is straightforward but expensive. Eating out is even more so: A $50 bill for lunch per person was common for our group, and a hamburger cost $15 to $18.

Most charter boats come equipped with chart plotters. Still, I found that having an iPad loaded with Navionics cartography was a great help within the reefs. It allowed us to have one chart zoomed out and the other zoomed in for details. When the onboard chart plotter stopped functioning one morning as we traveled along the south coast of Raiatea, we were able to carry on by iPad until I could reset the recalcitrant equipment. —MP

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A funny thing has happened in the evolution of cruising catamarans. The category, at the outset, was defined by straightforward simplicity. This was true going back to the double-hulled Polynesian voyaging canoes, through the iconic designs of the visionary James Wharram, on to the custom cats built on Caribbean beaches by Peter Spronk, and including the early production cats of the modern era from Fountaine Pajot and Lagoon. Cruising catamarans were basically a pair of narrow hulls with a rather minimalistic living and working space sandwiched between them. 

It wasn’t too long before builders and designers realized that if they added a bit of volume to those hulls and stretched them, they could fill them with comfortable double-berth staterooms, en suite heads and other amenities. And, thanks largely to the ­catamaran’s emergence as an excellent platform for bareboat charter, designers could also make them taller (the “wedding-cake effect”). That brought us not only upper-deck lounges with day beds, grills and refrigerators, but also dedicated flybridges with steering stations that were once the exclusive domain of trawlers and sport-fishing craft.

Everything’s gotten bigger these days. Certainly, here in my hometown of Newport, Rhode Island, and in nearby destinations including Long Island, Cape Cod and Nantucket, modest seaside homes have been razed to make room for garish mansions with gyms, pools and astronomical square footage. In contemporary cruising cats, I’m feeling comparable vibes. 

As a judge for the 2024 Boat of the Year awards, I was struck by the technology, sophistication and similarities of the contestants vying for Best Cruising Catamaran Over 50 Feet. Both were from French builders, both were 51 feet, and both had seven-figure price tags. The Lagoon 51 was a very different beast than the first Lagoon I ever stepped aboard, the compact Lagoon 37. And the winning boat, the Fountaine Pajot Aura 51, was a far cry from the basic Louisiane 37 that launched the company’s foray into cruising cats back in 1983. 

Fountaine Pajot has certainly placed a big bet on the Aura 51, as it’s replacing the Saba 50, of which some 300 hulls were sold. Describing the overall aesthetic by Berret-Racoupeau Design is no simple task. The lines are actually pretty sweet for a gargantuan 51-footer with a beam of more than 25 feet. As with all contemporary cats, the waterline is maxed out, with a plumb bow and an extended boarding step in the squarish transom. The hull windows and the wraparound window treatment in the coachroof complement each other well.

Clearly, the goal was to optimize comfort at anchor. There are cushioned seats in the forward deck, just abaft the trampolines. What the company calls the “sky lounge” is topside on the roof of the Bimini hardtop over the cockpit, with a 2,000-watt array of solar panels sharing this space.

The steering wheel is to starboard, a few steps up from the cockpit, putting the skipper in a strategic location to communicate with mates on the lower or upper level, which is another four steps up from the wheel. Everything’s a compromise when it comes to boats, and the drawback here is that there are blind spots to port, particularly if coming along a portside berth. You’re going to want a mate calling out the distance. (There is no flybridge wheel.)

That said, I’m actually a big fan of the split steering station, with the wheel, engine controls and Garmin instruments on a pedestal under a canvas Bimini top, and a trio of Lewmar self-tailing electric winches, a pair of Spinlock rope clutches, and all the running rigging led to a dedicated pod just forward of the helmsman. This is a signature Fountaine Pajot feature on several models. Frankly, with imitation being the sincerest form of flattery, I’m surprised more builders have not adopted this layout. It really does allow for solo sailing; the driver can put the boat on autopilot, slip a couple of steps forward, and trim and reef to the heart’s delight. 

Unfortunately, for our sea trial on Chesapeake Bay, we didn’t have the double-digit windspeeds needed to put the Aura 51 through its proper paces, but the boat moved well in the 5- to 8-knot northerly, making over 4 knots closehauled, and an even 4 when cracked off on a beam reach. A company rep suggested that in better breeze, the boat would generally make speeds about half that of the true-wind pressure. There’s an optional bowsprit arrangement with all the associated hardware to set a code-zero-style headsail.

There certainly is no lack of sail area, particularly the square-topped full-battened mainsail that’s set off a whopping 76-foot spar. We see quite a few sails from French sailmaker Incidence on French-built boats, like the ones on our test ride, and they are always top-notch. The boat we tested also had optional twin 75 hp Volvo Pentas with saildrives (60 hp engines are standard). The boat galloped along at over 8 knots at 2,400 rpm. Decibel-wise, it was one of the quietest in the entire 2024 Boat of the Year fleet. The composite construction is a rather straightforward combination of resin injection and infusion with balsa core in the hulls and Divinycell foam in the deck.

All of which brings us to the vessel’s true raison d’être: the open floor plan with condolike cabins and accommodations, which are impressive. 

The sliding doors separating the main cabin and cockpit can be fully opened. The main dining table is in the cockpit and can be fully enclosed with canopies. The straight-line galley is inside and to port, bordered by an island that doubles as counters and a workspace for the cook. There’s plenty of seating, and the views through the coachroof windows are terrific. Surprisingly, there is no dedicated navigation station, which to me seems like an oversight on a boat of this size.

Several layouts are available. Our test model had the “double maestro”: a master stateroom aft in each hull, accessed from the interior or through a pair of gullwing doors in the cockpit. Guest staterooms are forward. Boat of the Year judge Mark Pillsbury noted that this could be a nice setup for two owners to share, whether sailing separately or together. Regarding our choice of the Aura 51 over the Lagoon for Boat of the Year, our panel collectively felt that both boats would do well in charter, but that the Aura was better suited to real cruising as opposed to being aimed more toward vacation sailing. 

No pun intended, but there’s a definite aura to this rangy cat that separates it from the other models that Fountaine Pajot produces. This is a boat meant to be lived on and in, for extended periods, in high comfort bordering on true luxury. Bring friends and family. On the Aura 51, there is definitely room for the whole gang. 

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

Did You Know?

■ Fountaine Pajot is pioneering a “zero-emission energy system” in the Aura 51. The Smart Electric version of the boat incorporates electric motors, folding props, solar panels, a generator, and a pair of lithium-ion battery banks capable of storing 54 kilowatt hours. Under sail via hydrogeneration, the system can recharge the batteries in 48 hours. 

■ Founded in 1976 by a quartet that included Olympic sailor Jean-François Fountaine and offshore racer Yves Pajot, Fountaine Pajot specialized at the start in racing dinghies and IOR-rule monohulls. The company later delved into large, record-setting transoceanic catamarans and trimarans. It wasn’t until 1983 that the yard pivoted to cruising cats, beginning with the Louisiana 37. 

■ During the past four decades, Fountaine Pajot has produced more than three dozen models, many named after the destinations or islands that inspired them: Tobago 35, Saba 50, Eleuthera 60 and so on. Today, the company also includes Dufour Yachts, a range of power cats, and eight cruising/sailing cat models from 40 to 80 feet.

The post Sailboat Review: Fountaine Pajot Aura 51 appeared first on Cruising World.

About 12 Knots

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Anyone who loves being on the water has a dream cruising destination—or several—in mind. Yours might be to explore hidden grottoes in the cool azure waters of the Mediterranean, snorkel in the crystal-clear seas of the Caribbean, feel the wind in your hair in the Whitsundays or dive into the mystical oceans of the Far East. Whatever destination is on your proverbial Bucket List, finding a vessel and a reputable charter company in your area of choice and managing the details of the booking, however, can quickly hamper those dreams.

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I’m feeling very uncomfortable,” my daughter said, midpassage, as we sailed through the Sir Francis Drake Channel in the British Virgin Islands.

Looking aft, I could see her standing, ­gripping the wheel, the sea behind her lumpy and tilted, the dinghy bumping along as we beat into the April trade winds.

I said nothing. We were aboard a Moorings 52, a powerful sloop, doing 6 knots as we passed between The Dogs and Virgin Gorda. Dutch, our instructor who sat nearby, spoke to her quietly, repeating steps he’d introduced just two days before. § She pursed her lips and paused. As I watched with admiration, she raised her voice to the crew.

“Ready about.”

Amy Carrier and I were in the third day of a promise made decades before: to teach her to sail. Life had intervened, with 42 years passing since we had lived in the same state. What prompted the trip were two big birthdays: my 80th and her 50th. With the caution that a father ought not to teach his child to drive—or sail—I proposed that we go grand and enroll in Colgate Offshore Sailing School’s Fast Track to Live Aboard Cruising, an intense eight-day course that, if passed, awards US Sailing’s Bareboat Cruising certification.

Our resumes were night and day. Amy was a Ph.D. consultant with a wall of degrees. Except for a week on my boat a dozen years before, she was as raw as a sailor could be. Her goal was to charter a boat with her husband. 

I had sailed for more than five decades, on and off, starting with a 12-foot Snark, a sailing school in Denver, a bareboat month in the Caribbean, and 15,000 miles on my 35-foot Allied Seabreeze yawl with stops at Key West, Florida, and Montgomery, Alabama, over to Cuba, and then across the Atlantic and Mediterranean. 

So, as I flipped through three assigned textbooks during the flight to Tortola, I said to myself, I know all this stuff. My biggest concern, frankly, was a mixed metaphor: feeling like a fifth wheel while biting my tongue.

Joining us in Tortola were Angela and Scott Ness, two 66-year-old Ph.D. cancer researchers from Albuquerque, New Mexico, who had done some Hobie Cat sailing in California’s Long Beach Harbor. Their goal was to bareboat with friends in the BVI when they retired in June.

Our instructor for all but the first day was Offshore’s branch manager, Folkert “Dutch” Jongkind, a native of the Netherlands with a ton of experience, including 25 weeks a year leading groups like ours. 

Colgate’s course slogan is “From couch to captain in a week.” As we spent the first two mornings of the course in a classroom, I watched my three well-educated colleagues madly scribbling notes, sketching little boats, and labeling parts while I ate birthday cake. We then moved aboard a Colgate 26, a specially designed open sloop with room for the instructor on the stern, and began to put into practice what we had previously learned on the dry-erase board. 

Tacking, jibing, running, beating, person overboard, picking up moorings: Seeing all of it shoveled into one week made the details of sailing seem astoundingly granular. Maneuvers that I took for granted, when they were broken down into steps, dwarfed instructions for a houseful of IKEA furniture.

We then moved aboard Glad 2B Here, a sleek monohull with four air-conditioned staterooms, a galley and salon, and twin helms and electric winches. We took the first quiz, and I was mortified as all three shipmates scored 100 while I, the grizzled know-it-all, got 94. That night, I got up at 3 a.m. and crammed for two hours, just like I did in college to squeak out a bachelor’s in psychology.

Sailing with Dad is an origin story for many sailors. One of my favorites is My Old Man and the Sea by David and Daniel Hays. You’re on a boat together, learning not only how to sail, but also life-living skills, passing on wisdom and ways of being in calms and gales and moments of stress just by watching, imitating, osmosis.

Tacking, jibing, running, ­beating, person overboard, picking up moorings: Seeing all of it shoveled into one week made the details of sailing seem astoundingly granular.

The dreams, the expectations of time with Dad can fall short because they’re weighted with old chafing and might-have-beens. “If you don’t do it right, then there can be judgment, and that is an energy that leads to friction,” Doris Colgate, who heads Offshore, told me. Widely honored for opening the sailing world to women, she said: “Women love to learn with other women because there’s absolutely no judgment involved. Everybody feels they’re on an equal basis, and they’re much more relaxed.”

Women also learn differently, she said. “They want to know what they’re doing and why they should be doing it. When it doesn’t come out, I’m much more willing to say: ‘I don’t get it. Please show me again.’ Most guys wouldn’t do that.” 

The worst thing a man can do when things get wild is grab a line or tiller from a woman. “Oh, God, I hate that,” Colgate said. “There’s something called chivalry, and if I see one more coat thrown into a puddle, I think I’ll scream. Even today it happens—even with our instructors. I get on the boat, and they take the helm away. Seriously.”

Amy’s mother and I divorced when she was 8, so I missed her growing day to day. I called nearly every night from across the country but often imagined her rolling her eyes at any discipline or wisdom. Our times together were big trips around my work: camping in Yellowstone, boating through the Grand Canyon, rounding up cattle on a ranch.

Even if we had found the time to sail, there was so much to impart. I had learned from millions of waves, hundreds of nights at anchor, decisions good and poor, moments of bliss and beauty. I wanted to teach all that while protecting her from mistakes I’d made.

What I really wished was for her to sit alone in a beadboard Snark with nothing but a daggerboard, tiller and lateen sail, and learn to feel the ballet of sailing. Or time on a J/22, a real sailing boat, feeling the line in her hands, watching telltales and the Windex. Those were the best sailing schools, I felt, if only because that’s how I had learned.

At Colgate, we had a week. I could only watch her try her first jibe, first oversteer. Lines, winches, clutches—it was ­confusing to her, she later admitted. Moving on to the 52 after two classroom days was, I felt, a leap to meet the minimums. But right beside us was Dutch, whose demeanor projected assurance that you were safe, that you could fail but not fall into trouble. 

Dutch also knew the islands, the bars, the restaurants and the best mooring fields, which we sampled. They fueled our drive to get on with learning. For me, the grandeur of the islands was background to the drama of our onboard classroom.

I could feel the anxiety from three high achievers to learn in a week what had taken me four decades. “I thought I knew how to sail,” Scott Ness said afterward. Angela added, “I felt I was on a hockey-stick learning curve.” The week entailed learning a new language, tying new knots, being visibly stressed while tacking the Colgate 26 through a mooring field. “I’m freaking out because I don’t know what the hell I’m doing,” she said. “I was not ready for it.”

By week’s end, we were able to josh about goofs made in front of one another. (That included my fall into the dinghy when my aging knees buckled while climbing onto the dock at Willie T’s—beforeI ordered my first Painkiller.) Through repetition, book learning and teamwork, everyone passed. We had a ticket to rent a bareboat.  But all three of my shipmates knew that they needed more time before chartering.

“I learned how to sail,” Amy said when we talked, back in the United States. “I couldn’t have gone sailing by myself ­before then. I didn’t know all the ­mechanics of a boat. I didn’t know what to do with sails and all that stuff.” 

After Dutch showed her the boat’s self-righting design, and how to control it, her fear of heeling dissipated. “I learned a lot,” she said. “It was exhausting. Intense. Am I ready to charter myself or with an unexperienced crew? No. If there was a little sporty boat available, would I take it out? Yeah, probably.”

The graduation certificate for US Sailing’s bareboat cruising course was, in reality, a driver’s license, in Dutch’s view. We knew the rules of the road, but not how to drive in all conditions. His job was to “open the door. A first step to sailing.”

Doris told me: “I always say about sailing, it’s 90 percent bliss and 10 percent terror—and you need terror. You need to be out there at some point where everything’s gone wrong and it’s pretty scary weather. But once you have that education, or you’ve had the years of experience like you have, it’s not alarming. You just buckle down and do what you need to do. And I think that translates into life as well.”

Ultimately, what Amy and the Nesses were learning was this: “They can do anything they want. They are empowered, emboldened,” Colgate said. “It’s a huge confidence-maker when you can make a boat go where you want it to go with wind alone. That’s pretty exciting.”

In our postmortem, Amy and I realized that we had long shared a philosophy imparted by Dutch. If you’re not enjoying it, something’s wrong. You should be able to relax out on the water. “That’s a stance you and I both have taken with jobs and everything else,” Amy said. “If it isn’t fulfilling, if I’m not enjoying it, f-ck it.”

Our last day in paradise, when we were supposed to take out the boat overnight and return it without the instructor, was canceled by a rolling series of fierce thunderstorms. I used the time to reflect. My usual melancholy at leaving Amy was brightened by the vision of her sailing into the morning sun, as I had done so many times. With little inheritance to pass on, I had given her something of me. Searching for the words to describe that gift, I asked Amy what she told her friends.

“I went sailing with my dad.”

A Daughter’s Perspective

Three days before Christmas, I received a text message from my dad: “Got time to talk?” 

He informed me that the Offshore Sailing School had spring 2024 availability in its Fast Track to Cruising course in the British Virgin Islands. We immediately had to decide whether to attend because the price would increase at midnight. 

I responded with a resounding, “Um, OK?” 

Up to that point, our idea of taking a sailing course together was just that: an idea. We had tossed around a few of them: chartering a bareboat in Europe (his proposal), chartering a captained boat in the Caribbean (my suggestion), traveling to Cuba (also mine). All of these were possible answers to the question of how we should celebrate his 80th birthday.  

Our conversations seemed like fun dreams until that December day, when I realized just how serious he was. 

Dad shared an email from the school’s coordinator with the details. I blanched a little at the cost, as well as at the time we would need to dedicate to this adventure: eight days in the BVI plus at least one more for travel. I had just started a new job.  

Luckily for me, my new boss loves to sail. I had dreamed for years of visiting the BVI. I longed to see the white sands of Anegada, the Baths, the Soggy Dollar.

What settled the matter was my acute awareness of the passage of time. I had lost my mother two years prior. She was a far-too-young victim of Alzheimer’s disease whose rapid decline and passing tore my world apart. Dad was turning 80. He exudes good health, but you never know. This was an opportunity for (perhaps) one last big trip together, and for him to share something he loved with me. How on earth could I possibly say no?

I served as travel agent, using miles and points to coordinate our flights from Ohio and Vermont to Miami a day before we had to be there. We were taking no chances. From Miami, we flew to Beef Island together with our duffels and boat shoes, then took a quick taxi to meet the ferry to Scrub Island. Dad chatted with a young couple celebrating their honeymoon and bought them celebratory Coronas as we waited.  

The resort was gorgeous, secluded and peaceful. Our rooms ­overlooked the docks. We could see two of the Colgate 26 keelboats, along with a variety of catamarans and one or two monohulls. Our first evening, we bought cheese and wine from the market and crashed early.

Class started the next day at 8:30 a.m. sharp, but with a surprise: Offshore had arranged a birthday cake for Dad. We, along with two other students, spent a few hours in the classroom before heading out on one of the Colgates. I was relieved to know that I wasn’t the only nervous one on board.  

Rain chased us back in, and we had a lazy lunch before repeating the morning’s structure.  That evening, we celebrated Dad with dinner and another cake. We begged our classmates to take some back to their room.

Our second day mirrored the first: more classroom, more sailing, and confusion interspersed with flashes of understanding and feeling—for just a moment—like we knew what we were doing. On Day 3, we boarded Good 2B Here, called dibs on staterooms, stowed our gear, and headed out to open-ish sea.

I remember the next few days as a blur. Tacking and jibing, learning to read a chart and use a compass, and understanding the magnetic variation caused by something as small as a smartphone. Stand-on rules and the exceptions, the complexities of the engine and the water system, how and when to use the marine radio. But there was fun too. We took a break one morning to visit the Baths, arriving early and having the park to ourselves. We sailed through sun and sudden downpours, and we threw that poor fender overboard again and again. We made checklists for raising the sails, putting the boat to bed, what lights to turn on at night, and how to use the navigation and sound systems.  

Our last night on board, Dad and one of our classmates made dinner: shrimp and pasta accompanied by wine and laughter about our newbie mistakes and our instructors’ endless patience.

Dad and I talked and joked, and snipped at each other when we got tired or frustrated. We’re both hard of hearing, which made the wind and waves an occasional nuisance. We shared memories of our many travels together and wondered aloud what it would be like to come back to the BVI and charter a boat for ourselves. We didn’t make it to Anegada or Soggy Dollar, which is all the more reason to return.  

Still, I watched him nap in the midmorning quiet and gave thanks that we had made this choice, that we had taken this time to spend together. 

Our last morning, he asked our classmates how they thought we did as father and daughter; he seemed taken aback by the answer: “You have different temperaments.” 

Maybe true, but we share a passion for the really cool things we’ve done together. Yes, Dad’s love for sailing was successfully passed down, just as he had hoped. Since then, my husband and I have relocated to Raleigh, North Carolina, and I started researching sailing clubs on the coast. I also persuaded my husband to enroll in the same course in the BVI. I plan to join him there.

Perhaps, to celebrate Dad’s 85th birthday, he and I can charter our own boat and finally make it to Anegada, with a stop at the Soggy Dollar for a well-earned Painkiller. Until then, I’ll treasure the memories of our week together and look forward to the next text I receive that asks, “Got time to talk?” —Amy Carrier

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When I think back on my bareboat chartering experiences, certain comparisons naturally come to mind. Compared with the boats of yesteryear, modern charter boats are marvels of design and engineering, with best-in-class comfort and convenience. These vessels, especially the popular catamarans, have spacious staterooms, fully equipped galleys and luxurious furnishings. Features such as air conditioning, watermakers and efficient refrigeration are now standard, ensuring a consistent level of comfort anywhere you book.   

The guest experience is king, often as important as the destination itself. This trend has raised the bar for charter operators around the globe to meet customers’ high expectations. Peter Jones, broker at Voyage Charters, says that just five years ago, his company was renting out boats with manual pump toilets and no air conditioning. Today, the fleet includes the luxurious Voyage 590, which won Cruising World’s 2022 Boat of the Year. It has six guest staterooms with en suite heads and state-of-the-art accoutrements.  

 Cool. But beyond the plush interiors and deluxe amenities remains the broader appeal of chartering—the escape itself. Bareboat chartering isn’t only about the boat; it’s about the adventure. Each trip is a chance to discover hidden coves, vibrant marine life, uninhabited islands and more. The thrill of plotting your own course with two or 10 of your best mates can turn a vacation into memories of a lifetime.  

Charter is also about embracing the unexpected. Three years ago, with some friends and my wife, I chartered a nifty new power cat with all the bells and whistles in the British Virgin Islands. Sure, because of the pandemic, ours was a vastly different experience from the typical BVI charter. We couldn’t have cared less. We dived the RMS Rhone wreck, sipped Painkillers opposite a plexiglass shield at the Soggy Dollar Bar, explored the stunning Baths on Virgin Gorda, and danced with waves of colorful fish around the reefs of Anegada. Despite the travel hassles, the freedom of cruising in such a beautiful place made it all worthwhile. The boat was perfect, the memories unforgettable.

 Earlier this year, I joined a rally in the Leeward Islands aboard a scaled-down sailing charter catamaran. We discovered stunning new-to-me destinations, including Orient Bay, Anse Marcel and Ile Fourchue. 

Mother Nature got in on the action, giving us a rare ridge of high pressure that completely stole our breeze, but the adventure became more than just sailing. It was about the camaraderie, the beautiful anchorages and the simple joy of being on the water. Our boat, even with its modest mainsail and self-­tacking jib, provided the perfect vessel for this laid-back expedition, proving that sometimes the best adventure is found in the journey itself.

Even the most experienced charterers can face unexpected challenges. Just last month, a reader shared a story of chartering off Florida’s Gulf Coast. Despite having more than 30 years of sailing and chartering in his wake, his carefully planned itinerary was disrupted by equipment failures and unexpected weather conditions. 

A tropical storm brought high winds, heavy rain and lightning, testing the crew’s resilience and adaptability. His experience highlights the importance of flexibility and preparedness in chartering. It also stresses value in the option of hiring a professional captain, especially in unfamiliar waters, so you can relax and enjoy the journey.

To me, always, the joys of chartering far outweigh any difficulties. It offers the chance to explore new destinations, try different boats and create unforgettable memories. 

If you’re a current subscriber, as you read through our August 2024 Charter Special issue, you’ll find stories and insights from fellow sailors who have embraced these comforts and thrills. I hope it all inspires you to book your own charter adventure. 

No charter is perfect, nor is any one charter experience the same. That’s the whole point. Dive in. The water’s fine. —Andrew Parkinson, editor-in-chief

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