According to Kurt Jerman, head of West Coast Multihulls, the questions come hard and fast at a boat show anytime a ­lifelong monohuller is ­considering a move to the multihull side. 

• Is multihull cruising really all that different from the monohull experience? 
• In what ways? 
• What are the key differences between catamarans and trimarans? 
• Could a multihull flip over? Then what? 

With the great debate between monohulls and multihulls having drawn on for decades, we sat down with Jerman to get some honest ­answers to questions he ­typically fields from the “cat curious” crowd.    

CW: You often hear about the comfort factor of the multihull platform. What’s the root of that appeal?  

KJ: The most noticeable thing about sailing a catamaran or trimaran versus a traditional monohull is the lack of heeling. Even when powered up, a cat or tri will rarely heel more than 5 to 10 degrees before it’s time to reef. Gone are the days of bracing yourself in the cockpit and living your life underway at 20 or more degrees of angle. In my opinion, it’s a much more relaxing and convenient way to sail. No question about that. There are a few exceptions when it comes to the newer breed of large performance cruising cats (which can heel 10-plus degrees), but these are still fairly fresh to the cruising market.  

What can multihull owners expect in terms of speed and sailing performance?

Cruising catamarans will typically be 25 percent to 30 percent faster than a cruising monohull of the same length. You basically reach near-­racing monohull speeds, but with all the creature comforts that come with a cat. Trimarans are an entirely different deal because they trend more toward the performance end of the spectrum, and can regularly double the sailing speed of monohulls on nearly any point of sail.

Keep in mind that catamarans and trimarans are, however, much more sensitive to loading. Performance will suffer more on a cat that is loaded for cruising than on a comparable monohull. Keeping the boat light can be difficult, but it is critical if fast passages are your goal. Reefing also becomes more important. 

Sailing catamarans and, to a lesser extent, trimarans too, require vigilance when it comes to reefing. Because they don’t heel much, almost all additional wind force is converted to load on the rig. That’s where the speed comes from. But since the pressure on the sails quadruples as the windspeed doubles, crews must keep an eye on the weather and make sure to reef in good time to keep the boat safe and sailing flat. In fact, a properly reefed cat or tri will sail faster too, in freshening breezes. All manufacturers supply written guidelines denoting apparent-wind speeds that require additional reefing.  

What about safety? And are multihulls really unsinkable, or is that a myth? 

There are many aspects to safety where catamarans and trimarans shine. Often overlooked is the safety margin introduced with level sailing. It is much easier to keep crew aboard in rough weather when the boat stays level and is pitching less. Also, large cockpit spaces keep crew better protected and situated well away from the lifelines. 

The speed of a multihull is another safety factor. With decent weather information, it’s relatively easy to sail around severe weather systems before they can bear down on you. Should something go horribly awry and the boat gets flipped—which is highly rare and requires extreme circumstances—the lack of ballast and additional positive flotation means that nearly every catamaran and trimaran produced in the past few decades will remain on the surface of the water, right side up or not, until a rescue can be made. Nearly all cruising cats and tris have a substantial amount of reserve buoyancy, in the form of closed-cell foam, stashed in the nooks and crannies of the boat. Because of this, most of these boats could literally be cut into pieces, and all of those pieces would still float. 

How do multihulls handle under power and in close quarters?  

Cruising catamarans and trimarans, with their easily driven hull forms and light weight, enjoy excellent fuel efficiency when compared with monohulls, and track very straight. Cats almost always have twin engines, set many feet apart, which allows for tremendous control in tight situations. In fact, the boat can be spun in place or crabbed sideways without any way on. Try that on a monohull. 

Prop walk is minimal or nonexistent as well, and the redundancy of a second engine is appreciated should a mechanical issue arise ­underway. Nearly all trimarans have just one engine, so the differences there are slight.  

How much gain can boaters expect in usable living space?  

Typically, a catamaran will have the volume below equivalent to a monohull 10-plus feet larger. When combined with added cockpit space, possibly a flybridge, and more than doubling the deck space, it becomes a whole different ballgame. It’s important to note that you not only gain a tremendous amount of space, but nearly all of that space is very livable and comfortable as well, whether at anchor or underway. 

However, trimarans don’t show an increase in interior volume, and in fact tend to be smaller below than monohulls of the same size. This is mitigated some by the additional stowage in the amas and added net space, but the narrower, performance-oriented main hull tends to be less than palatial. 

How can multihulls get away with such shallow drafts? 

Because a multihull’s stability comes from the beam and extra hulls—form stability—there is no need for ballast or a substantial keel. This reduces overall weight and, importantly, draft as well. It is common for a 40-plus-foot cruising cat to have a draft less than 4 feet, allowing sailors to explore shallow areas where monohullers fear to tread. Belize, the Bahamas, the Great Barrier Reef? No problem. Gunkholing around Mexico and the Chesapeake is easier too. 

If you have some quick underwater maintenance to do, such as replacing prop-shaft seals, zincs or a through-hull, most cats can be dried out at low tide on a flat area of sand or solid ground, resting happily on their stubby little keels. You can also nose right up to that perfect beach if the weather allows. 

Trimarans typically have no keels at all, and instead rely on a centerboard to prevent leeway, making them perfect for beaching. Boom-tent camping, anyone?

What if it flips?  

While a scenario like this is theoretically possible and has happened in very rare, heavy-weather situations when any vessel would be in distress, it takes very high winds, too much sail (see reefing, above), and large breaking waves to flip a modern cruising cat or trimaran.

Multihull sailors might find it reassuring to know that their cat or tri will remain on the surface, as a big life raft and highly visible spotting target.

The post The Case for Multihulls appeared first on Cruising World.

A rain-disrupted two-day safari in the usually arid plains and mountains north of Cape Town, cruising across windy Table Bay to view Robben Island from a power cat, and wild World Cup soccer fans filling
the streets nightly each provided entertaining sideshows to the main event on a recent trip to South Africa: a media tour of the Robertson and Caine boatbuilding shops, where Leopard catamarans are built. It was an adventure that the builder arranged to coincide with the launch of its newly designed 40-foot power cat, to be marketed as the Leopard 40PC and the Moorings 403PC. 

R&C operates six manufacturing ­facilities in Cape Town, where it builds models that include 42-, 45- and 50-foot sailing catamarans, and 40-, 46- and 53-foot power cats. All models are available to private owners under the Leopard brand, and for charter through Sunsail and The Moorings. The 403PC will be available for on-water vacations this year.

All the R&C facilities that our small troupe of writers visited were bustling, though they were winding down the 2022 production year in anticipation of the plant’s closing to give employees their annual holiday break. The company built 182 boats in 2022 and plans to produce 213 this year, according to Donovan Thomas, R&C’s technical director. 

The three-stateroom 40 PC is being constructed on a new production line, in a building previously used for research and development. Hull No. 1 had just launched, and we saw four more in various stages of build. Construction of the first few boats includes hands-on workforce training; full-on production commenced early this year.

The busiest shop we found was the Bolt facility, where the Leopard 45 sailing cats—the company’s most popular model—are built. There, assembly-line manager Rotenda Randima walked us through the various workstations, from bare hull to finished boat. At each ­station, a swarm of technicians added to the overall sensation that there was, ­indeed, a lot going on. From the plant, she said, a new boat is trucked every four-and-a-half days to the harbor, where it undergoes sea trials before being loaded onto a ship for delivery.

On the 45’s production line, large fans kept the air moving, even on a hot South African morning. Hulls sat in cradles fitted out with wheels that roll along rails in the floor. At each workstation, lists of tasks were posted, along with progress notes and reports on things such as the number of injuries incurred, if any. At the station where the 45’s deck and cabin top are bonded to the hull, workers had gone 204 days without a mishap, I noted as I strolled by.

Throughout its plants, the R&C workforce includes experienced boatbuilders and trainees, the latter easily identifiable, dressed as they are in orange overalls. The company trains 100 to 150 people a year in skills that include carpentry, lamination and mechanical systems, among others. The overall number of employees runs right around 2,000.

R&C is somewhat uncommon in the world of boatbuilding because it has just one customer: Travelopia, the parent company of Leopard Catamarans, The Moorings and Sunsail. 

Franck Bauguil, vice president of yacht ownership and product development, says that besides the Leopard 42 sailing cat, which won CW’s 2022 Boat of the Year award for Best Cruising Catamaran Under 50 Feet, R&C has introduced three new power cats in the past three years. The company plans to refocus on sail in the coming months, with a couple of new designs in early stages of development. 

The post South African Boat Builders Bringing a Leopard of Different Sorts appeared first on Cruising World.

With a length overall of 61 feet, 7 inches and a beam of just over 31 feet, Fountaine Pajot’s Samana 59 is a big boat. As I wandered fore and aft, upstairs and down, while sailing on a sun-splashed morning on Chesapeake Bay with Cruising World’s Boat of the Year judges, I found multiple places to stop and take in the surroundings. 

The view from the flybridge was expansive; in the cockpit, the gurgle of the wake passing by was hypnotic. It was a little early in the day to kick back on the foredeck sun cushions, and besides, my feet kept taking me back to the owner’s stateroom in the starboard hull, where an athwartships queen berth sat amidships. Leaning on its edge, I could look directly out the long, rectangular port in the hull and see waves dancing by. 

Yep, I thought. That would be the place to be.

Fountaine Pajot is a longtime player in the French catamaran industry. Its more-recent models have tacked in the direction of luxury accommodations, but it hasn’t forgotten its performance roots. Besides looking good, most of the FPs I’ve encountered have sailed well too, the Samana included.

Designed by Berret-Racoupeau—FP’s collaborator for nearly a decade—the Samana has stylish good looks. Its sheer rises from slightly raked-back bows and then tapers downward from the mast aft to the transoms. The lines of the cabin top are repeated in miniature on the Bimini over the ­flybridge, giving the boat a somewhat space-age look, while displaying the same visual DNA that Olivier Racoupeau employed in the rest of the FP range. The boat we visited in Annapolis, Maryland, all tricked out with gear for the show, carried a price tag of $2.8 million.

On deck, the Samana has a versatile cutter rig with a slightly overlapping jib and large genoa, both set on electric furlers. Upwind, roll out the jib, and coming about is a fairly straightforward chore (with a little help from electric Antal winches). Off the wind, furl the small sail, and deploy the big genoa for more power when reaching. During our test sail, in 9 to 10 knots of breeze, the speedo hovered in the 6-knot range on a reach. Our speed was slightly less than that closehauled—not a big cat’s favorite point of sail. I’d guess that in the Caribbean trade winds, where a boat like the Samana is likely to be found, the ride would be a bit more spirited.

The Samana’s fiberglass hull is resin-infused and balsa-cored for strength and stiffness; the deck and several smaller parts are injection-molded, which gives them a finished look top and bottom. Bulkheads are all cored composite structures and are tabbed to the hulls using fiberglass cloth and resin. Aluminum plates are placed in the laminate wherever hardware is to be installed, and they get drilled and tapped for
assembly.

Living space aboard the Samana is well-thought-out and can accommodate a crowd. The cockpit has a dining table to port and a settee opposite. A ­second couch spans the transom, with a fridge, grill and sink adjacent to it, to starboard. At anchor, a hydraulic swim platform can be raised for sunbathing or lowered to the water. On the foredeck, there’s more space to kick back on a pair of U-shaped seating areas that can be reached by walking up the wide side decks, or from the saloon, which has a beefy, ­watertight door front and center.

The boat in Annapolis had what FP calls the ­Maestro layout, with the galley up in the saloon. Counter space takes up nearly the entire port side of the main cabin, with all the appliances you’d ­expect to find in a long-legged cruiser. There are ­multiple fridges and a freezer, and a five-burner stove and ­oven. The cooking area is open but separated from the rest of the living space by an island with ­additional counter and stowage. 

Opposite is a U-shaped couch surrounding a table that can be raised for dining indoors or lowered for cocktails and coffee. In the forward starboard corner of the saloon, there’s a forward-facing nav station and seat that would be a nifty spot to stand watch when it’s snarly outside.

The Maestro configuration puts the owner’s ­stateroom in the starboard hull, where it takes up about two-thirds of the space, with sleeping accommodations forward and a head and shower aft. A ­five-step companionway and hatch provide a private entrance from the deck; a second ­companionway from the saloon separates the owner’s stateroom from the en suite guest stateroom forward.

A galley-down Maestro version is also available, with the galley replacing the center of three staterooms in the port hull. Access to the aft stateroom is from the cockpit. 

There is also a six-stateroom charter version ­available, giving an owner lots of options for how the boat can be used. 

No matter the layout, given the Samana’s size and systems, it is likely that most owners will have a ­full-time captain and crew, whose quarters are in the ­forepeaks of both hulls.

For an owner who plans to live aboard and sail, friends and family will find all the comforts of home aboard the Samana. And if chartering is in the plans, pick the layout that will prove the most alluring, and the new FP is bound to be a breadwinner.

Mark Pillsbury is a CW editor-at-large.

The post Fountaine Pajot’s Samana 59: Sailing the Sweet Spot appeared first on Cruising World.

The sun had just come up, and the stovetop espresso maker was already in action. Even though it was early—and we were on vacation—everyone was eager to get underway to the Dry Tortugas, an island group 70 miles west of Key West, Florida. 

William was in the cockpit sorting out the snorkeling gear, while my husband, Green, was plotting the day’s route. Giulia and I were getting some breakfast sandwiches on the table. And the four teenagers aboard? Still sleeping, of course. 

Our ride for the week was a Fountaine Pajot Astréa 42 catamaran chartered from the Dream Yacht Charter base in Key West, and it was perfect. It had four staterooms and en suite heads, dining tables inside and out, and enough room for eight of us to stretch out and socialize. The week ­included fishing, snorkeling, sunbathing, plenty of sailing, great food, sundowners and laughs. The best part? Everyone (­including the teenagers) is ready to do it again—truly the mark of a good vacation.

According to a recent survey of the bareboat industry, catamarans now make up 45 ­percent of the worldwide charter fleet—a new high—and for good reason. With enough space and accommodations for large families or groups of friends, cats make excellent sailing vacation platforms. 

Get ready

Are you qualified to charter a catamaran? For many people, the path to a bareboat charter is through courses such as those offered by US Sailing and the American Sailing Association. Some schools ­offer courses specific to cruising multihulls. 

Already an experienced ­sailor? In many cases, ­particularly at bases in the Caribbean and North America, formal certifications aren’t necessary, but a sailing résumé showing some experience sailing boats of similar size is important. 

“In most cases, experience aboard a similarly sized monohull would be acceptable,” says Carol Hansen, head of marketing for Dream Yacht Charter. “But we review sailing résumés on a case-by-case basis, taking into consideration the boat and destination of choice.” 

Most charter companies also have professional captains available.

Get Set

Time for the fun part: selecting your charter company, destination and boat. Try to focus on your priorities. If you are only looking to charter a specific catamaran model, that will limit your choice of companies and destinations. On the other hand, if you’re set on a destination, you will have your choice of operators in that area. 

Bound by a tight budget? Consider low-season dates, a destination closer to home, or chartering an older boat. If you are traveling with another family, like we did—a definite perk of choosing a cat—splitting the costs makes for an affordable vacation for everyone. 

For first-timers, Hansen ­recommends the British Virgin Islands and the US Virgin Islands. 

“Both offer deep water, steady wind, and readily ­available mooring balls at the popular anchorages,” she says. “I would consider the Abacos or Antigua as the next step up because they are slightly more challenging destinations.”

Go!

Things to consider include all travel logistics (flights, ferries), a provisioning plan (do it ­yourself or order groceries ahead of time), itinerary options, and any toys you want to bring or reserve from the charter company. 

Insider tip: If you’re traveling with teens, consider renting kayaks or stand-up paddleboards to give them some fun and freedom. Trust me. 

When packing your bags, go lightly—fortunately, swimwear and T-shirts don’t take up much room. And don’t forget your camera. 

For more information about the ins and outs of planning a charter vacation, including packing tips, building an itinerary and how to provision like a pro, visit ­cruisingworld.com/charter

The post Are You Ready to Charter a Cat? appeared first on Cruising World.

The first time I experienced a fully lit-up, high-performance cruising catamaran was in Hawaii’s Molokai Channel aboard a Gunboat 66. The crew and owners knew how to live. The first mate served a sumptuous lunch as we rocketed along at a close reach under mainsail and a fractional screecher, with the autopilot driving through 5-foot seas. Humpback whales spouted nearby, and 21.7 knots never felt so civilized. § While this experience was eye-opening for me, it was the usual stuff for the owners and crew, who regularly ticked 300-plus-mile days. The boat’s off-the-wind inventory—including the fractional screecher, a masthead screecher, two asymmetrical spinnakers, and a symmetric kite—helped facilitate these big-mile days. 

Sailing off-the-wind angles efficiently aboard a multihull requires different sails than a standard main and a self-tacking jib combination. Sailmakers have created a variety of shapes—each optimized for certain wind ranges and windspeeds—to help maximize deeper wind angles. Better still, modern furling and dousing systems help take the sting out of sailhandling, as long as crews are mindful of their sails’ design parameters and their own abilities.

To learn more about today’s off-the-wind sails for cruising multihulls, I reached out to four experts. Phil Berman helped found the Multihull Company brokerage and, in 2013, formed Balance Catamarans, which builds performance-minded cruising cats. Stuart Dahlgren designs and builds sails at UK Sailmakers’ Northwest loft in Sidney, British Columbia. Bob Meagher works as a North Sails’ multihull expert out of the Fort Lauderdale, Florida, loft. Andrew Waters is a sail and service consultant at Quantum’s Annapolis, Maryland, loft. 

Below, I share their thinking by starting with sails for close-reaching angles (­ballpark 45 degrees) and move abaft through broad-reaching and running angles (theoretically, as deep as 180 degrees). While sailmakers often employ proprietary names for their off-the-wind sails, this article will deal in apparent-wind angles and apparent-wind speeds to describe sails in general terms. 

In all cases, the experts stressed that it’s important to have an open and honest dialogue with your sailmaker (before placing your order) about your vessel; its equipment and how it’s rigged; your crew’s experience level; and how, when and where you plan to use your off-the-wind sails. All sails are custom-built, so this conversation can also be a good time to discuss your goals for each sail, and how modern materials, technologies and custom tweaks can help you achieve these ambitions.

Code zeros. When it comes to sailing wind angles from roughly 40 degrees to 110 degrees, few sails are as useful as code zeros. While these sails go by a number of brand names, they are typically paneled sails that fly off sewn-in anti-torsion cables, and that can be loosely defined by their working apparent-wind angles. Code zeros are also typically rigged with dedicated furling drums, which makes for easy ­sailhandling. Some code zeros are cut flatter and designed for more close-winded work (say, 40 to 70 degrees apparent-wind angle), while others are designed to carry deeper angles (say, roughly 90 to 110 ­degrees, maybe 120 degrees) and are built with more depth. 

“If you’ve got a multihull with a main and a jib, the next sail is a code zero,” Waters says. “It’s versatile enough for reaching in light air, and it’s big enough to cover aft of the beam when the wind is stronger.”

Code zeros can be especially useful for stringing together swaths of light air, and for maximizing angles that a small, high-aspect, self-tacking jib and mainsail combination struggle to efficiently carry. 

Waters says that the best way to rig a code zero is by using a bowsprit (­longerons can also work well). “An anchor roller is not likely the best place,” he says. “There’s a lot of up-force, so you need something that’s reinforced.”

Ease of use is an important consideration when choosing off-the-wind sails, especially if you sail shorthanded. “The fastest sail doesn’t do any good if it’s stuffed inside a bow locker,” Meagher says. “It needs to be accessible.”

Others agree. “A person of modest experience can easily fly a code zero that’s on a continuous-line furler,” Berman says. “They are fairly easy to operate.”

This ease of use can be partially ­attributed to the sails’ working apparent-­wind angles, however, a lot comes down to the fact that code zeros typically reside on furlers and can be ordered with UV-protective material sewn onto the sail’s leech section. This allows the sails to remain hoisted, genoa-style, even if they aren’t being used. One consideration, of course, is the amount of UV light to which the sail will be exposed (read: Caribbean versus the Pacific “Northwet”) and the amount of time the sail will spend exposed to the elements. “It’s way better to take down the sail if you’re leaving the boat for a long time,” Dahlgren says. “But if you’re on board or on passage, it’s fine to leave it up.”

When it comes to extending the working life of sails with torque cables, Meagher stresses the importance of ensuring that halyards and tack lines are tight. “If the halyard isn’t tight enough, it puts more torque into the system,” he says, adding that he advises cruisers to have the UV-exposed ends of their torque cables inspected every year or so.

Given that code zeros are used typically for reaching angles, jibing isn’t usually a concern. “Reach-to-reach jibes aren’t that common,” Waters says, adding that this would mean rotating through half of a compass card. Instead, he suggests keeping onboard stress levels low by rolling up the sail before jibing.

Asymmetrical spinnakers. As the wind clocks aft, cruisers will encounter a crossover zone where their code zero will stop delivering the same sparkling ­performance it can produce on closer-­winded angles. Depending on one’s crew and vessel, this can be a great time to hoist an asymmetrical spinnaker. 

Asymmetrical cruising spinnakers typically are built of various-weight nylon and have soft luffs (unless they are on top-down furlers). They cover apparent-wind angles from roughly 100 to 155 degrees, and apparent-wind speeds up to (ballpark) 15 knots. Like all off-the-wind sails, cruisers can usually order asymmetrical spinnakers optimized for specific angles and windspeeds. Asymmetrical spinnakers usually range from bigger, lighter-weight A1s to A2s and A3s as the wind picks up and clocks astern. Like code zeros, asymmetrical spinnakers are designed to fly off a bowsprit or longeron, however, other options exist for fetching deeper angles (see below). 

As mentioned, asymmetrical cruising spinnakers sometimes employ top-down furlers, however, the more common practice is to use a dousing—or snuffing—sock. “Top-down furlers take more rotations to furl a sail than a bottom-up furler,” Meagher says. “So, you want to lead the furling line back to an electric winch.” In this scenario, with a top-down furler, crews would operate the sail much like a furling jib or code zero. (As a word of caution, make sure you are always looking at what you’re affecting when using a powered winch to avoid overstressing equipment.)

In the more common scenario, where the sail has a snuffer, crews typically hoist the sail sausage-style so that it can’t ­inopportunely inflate. Then, once the halyard has found its sheave box and the boat and crew are ready, a forward hand pulls on a continuous-loop line to pull the sock up to the sail’s head, exposing sailcloth to the breeze. When it’s time to douse, crews simply reverse this process and then lower the sail onto the nets. 

“Almost everyone has an asymmetric or symmetric spinnaker in a dousing sock,” Berman says. “Anything that makes sailing easier is better. Always.”

One interesting way to make ­sailing deeper angles with asymmetrical ­spinnakers easier involves leveraging the boat’s hulls. “If you’re sailing a deep angle, say 160 degrees, with an asymmetric sail, you could tack it to the windward hull,” Waters says. “This projects more of the sail area around the mainsail.”

Others agree. “Most cruising ­catamarans have padeyes on the bows for asymmetric spinnakers,” Dahlgren says. “You sometimes need to add a rope clutch for the tack line.”

While racing crews commonly jibe asymmetrical spinnakers (even on multihulls), most cruisers, Waters says, are better off to first furl or douse the spinnaker, jibe their mainsail (and boat), and then redeploy the kite on the new board. 

As with all sails, it’s crucial to know when it’s time to downshift to a more conservative sail selection.

“Off-the-wind sails are for less than 15 knots,” Waters says. “If the winds are higher, the jib comes back. All off-the-wind sails are built with a wind strength and angle in mind, and if you operate the sail outside these parameters, you could have difficulty operating it, or you could damage the sail.” 

Because of this, Waters advises sailors to take down the sail anytime they start feeling uncomfortable, or if conditions start exceeding the sail’s design parameters. Meagher agrees, adding that the best time to take down an off-the-wind sail is “10 minutes before you start asking the question.” (This wisdom applies to all spinnakers—asymmetrical and otherwise.)

However, should you miss your 10-minute warning, you can often sail a deep angle (say, 160 degrees) and use your mainsail to blanket the asymmetrical kite for the douse and takedown. Or, Meagher says, if you’re sailing in flat water, you can use the iron jenny. 

“It’s magic,” he says. “Turn on the engine, hit the throttles, and your apparent wind just dropped like a rock.” (This trick doesn’t work if you’re pounding into a seaway, as doing so can generate shock loading on the rig and sails.)

Symmetrical spinnakers. As the name implies, symmetrical spinnakers typically have broad-shouldered even-sided cuts that allow them to efficiently sail apparent-wind angles of 130 degrees to 160 degrees (or deeper) in winds up to roughly 10 to 15 knots. Like asymmetrical sails, symmetrical kites are commonly set and doused using socks, and are usually built out of nylon (1.5-ounce cloth is common for offshore use; see sidebar). 

“Symmetrical spinnakers are the most stable to fly and the easiest to jibe,” Meagher says, explaining that these can be ideal sails for long downwind runs.

Unlike monohulls that employ spinnaker poles, cruising catamarans typically leverage their beam measurements and twin bows. Dahlgren says that this technique includes a four-line setup, with two guys and two sheets led to bow-fitted padeyes and blocks. Jibing becomes a matter of transferring load from the working guy and sheet to their lazy counterparts as the stern moves through the breeze. 

Depending on the apparent-wind angle, the mainsail can sometimes blanket the more efficient spinnaker, which can be less than ideal for passagemaking. While it’s tempting to drop the main and let the kite breathe, it’s important to first talk with your sailmaker and rigger. 

“One thing that’s different is that there are no backstays,” Waters says about multihulls, adding that the mainsheet often supports the rig along the length of the mast. 

“Some people say that it’s OK to use the topping lift, but that’s not supporting the mast in the center,” Meagher says. “But it’s not a big concern in light air.”

There is the matter of using the mainsail to keep things cool if the wind unexpectedly picks up or shifts direction. Dahlgren says that it’s a good idea to keep the mainsail up, even if it’s reefed: “If you get into trouble with the spinnaker without the mainsail, there’s no way to blanket the kite.”

Given their shape and useful wind angles, symmetrical spinnakers are often critical for racking up offshore miles. “If I could have only four sails, I’d have a symmetric spinnaker, a jib, a screecher and a mainsail,” Berman says. “If the crew is more experienced, they could get a large asymmetric spinnaker. I don’t see people carrying two spinnakers.”

As for properly caring for symmetrical sails, all experts say that the guidelines apply to all of the sails discussed in this article. “Maintenance is often undertaken in the conditions and how the sail is used,” Waters says, referencing each sail’s design parameters. “If you use it outside these parameters, it’s negative maintenance. Pack away sails as dry as possible; if it’s going away wet, dry it at the earliest possible time.” 

This is because dry sails rarely develop mildew. However, should this aesthetic and olfactory offense set in, all experts were realistic about the fact that the optics can be “improved” but likely not removed. 

Finally, Meagher says, off-the-wind sails that spend significant amounts of time furled and hoisted need to be regularly inspected. 

“UV is a killer,” he says, explaining that even a sail that’s protected by Sunbrella or WeatherMax needs to be inspected more often than a genoa that also resides on a furler. “Get it checked every year or year and a half.” 

The key—as with so many things sailing-related—is having the right conversations ahead of time, ensuring that you have the right experience, and being judicious about when it’s best to douse or shorten sail. Take these steps, and not only will you reach (bad pun intended) Port B faster, but you’ll also likely have more fun getting there.

David Schmidt is CW’s electronics editor.

String and Things

While sailing involves lots of specialized equipment, cruising sailors can often ­employ the same running rigging to harness and trim their entire quiver of ­off-the-wind sails. “Today’s running rigging is lightweight and stretch- and mildew-resistant,” says Tony Rey, an accomplished Grand Prix sailor and a partner at Doyle Sails Newport. “Anything with creep or stretch is because it’s low-quality.” While it can be useful to have a bit of give in the system when sailing off-the-wind angles in a seaway, Rey says it’s best if this comes from the sail, not the sheets or tack line. “It’s more about the material the sail is made from than the running rigging,” he says, advising that cruisers should always check with their rigger beforehand to ensure that their intended cordage can handle the loads. —DS

The post Off-wind Sails For Cats appeared first on Cruising World.

Selling My Soul? A Lifelong Sailor Dabbles in Diesel

I barely averted an existential crisis as I swapped my usual monohull ride for a weeklong spin on a Moorings power catamaran.

Sailboat Review: Vision 444

The vision 444 catamaran is designed and built for bluewater challenges and self-reliant cruising couples.

For Sale: 2017 Leopard 48

Tried-and-true, this Leopard 48 from The Moorings brokerage fleet could be your next new-to-me sailing catamaran for $489,000.

Meet the HopYacht 30

Solar-electric power and a single sail define this entry-level cruising catamaran.

Advertisement

Cruising World On Board: Windelo 50

Introducing the Windelo 50: A Eco-Friendly Cruising Catamaran for Epic Sailing Adventures.

Grenada Boat Hijacking Suspects Charged with Murder

Ron Mitchell, Atiba Stanislaus and Trevon Robertson were charged with capital murder in the presumed deaths of Ralph Hendry and Kathy Brandel.

Meet the Bali 5.8

Catana Group has launched the Bali 5.8, its 14th Bali Catamarans model.

St. Vincent Court Orders Deportation For Hijacking Suspects

Three men suspected in the disappearance of Ralph Hendry, Kathy Brandel are set to be deported to Grenada.

What To Know About Missing US Couple Sailing Caribbean

Catamaran cruisers Ralph Hendry and Kathy Brandel are presumed dead after their disappearances in the Grenadines.

Vision 444: A Cat That’s Ready To Roam

Combining clever innovations with robust construction, the Vision 444 catamaran delivers offshore cruising comfort and capability.

Sailboat Review: Light and Lively Excess 14

The Excess 14 catamaran stepped up and delivered a punch, despite nearly calm conditions, providing a hint of the fun a good breeze might deliver.

Boat Review: Leopard 40 Power Cat

Robertson and Caine’s new 40-foot power catamaran is a sporty addition to The Moorings charter fleet and to the Leopard Catamarans range for private owners.

More Catamarans

The post Catamaran Tests appeared first on Cruising World.

Monohull or catamaran? Three cabins or five? Two heads or four? Flybridge or raised helm? Comfort or price? Just as there’s no one perfect ­charter destination, it’s impossible to say what the best boat is for a sailing vacation. For those who hate making decisions, that’s the bad news. But for those who like options, the good news is you have a lot of choices as you plan how to make your escape.

To get an idea of what ­constitutes a good charter boat, I reached out to 10 of the largest ­production ­boatbuilders and asked which ­current model is most often sold to charter fleets around the world. Not surprisingly, all but one of those popular charter boats are in the mid-40-foot range, and available with three to four—and in a couple of instances, five or even six—cabins.

Why 40-something feet? Boats in that size range are big enough to accommodate multiple couples or large families but are manageable for an average sailor who may or may not have experienced crew to help with boat handling. Expense is a factor too. The bigger the boat, the more it’s going to cost to rent, but the number of cabins (and ability to split costs among guests) might not increase accordingly. And, ­bigger boats are more challenging to handle, which means unless you own a 50-something footer, or have chartered a boat previously in that size range, you might face the added ­expense of having to hire a captain, at the outset of the trip at least.

Franck Bauguil is vice president of yacht ownership and product ­development for the Moorings and Sunsail. Both brands are owned by Travelopia, which buys essentially all of its catamarans from Robertson & Caine in South Africa. Travelopia is, in turn, R&C’s only customer, so all of the cats it builds are optimized for charter by Bauguil and designers at Simonis Voogd Design (privately owned R&C cats are sold under Travelopia’s Leopard brand).

When it comes to monohulls, though, both the Moorings and Sunsail buy select models from Beneteau and Jeanneau. For bases in the Mediterranean, monohulls tend to dominate the fleets, partly because of sailing preferences and partly because in crowded harbors, there isn’t room to tie big cats stern to at the quay. For those fleets, Bauguil says he prefers boats that have as many cabins as possible because Europeans tend to squeeze as many aboard as possible to reduce costs. That means four cabins and two heads are ideal in the mid-40-foot range.

Across the Caribbean, where North American customers tend to flock, he leans toward a mix of boats, including layouts with three cabins and two heads. Americans, he says, are more concerned about comfort and amenities.

Sailing conditions also factor in. At bases where the trade winds tend to blow harder and ­passages between islands are longer and more exposed, such as in St. Lucia and the Windward Islands, larger ­monohulls (and cats) dominate.

Other charter companies have more-diverse fleets. The Catamaran Company, for instance, offers a number of different brands of cats at its base in Tortola, in the British Virgin Islands. Owner Hugh Murray says different customers come looking for boats with a variety of features. One of his workhorses is the Lagoon 450. Customers like the flybridge for entertaining and relaxing, and with four guest cabins, plus two more bunks in the forepeaks, the 450 can accommodate up to 10 guests.

Others prefer the Fountaine Pajot catamarans that he manages in his fleet. Charterers like the raised helm, so a skipper can communicate with people sitting in the lounge atop the Bimini, or in the cockpit below.

“Then you have Bali, which takes the saloon and puts it in the cockpit; it’s like a cabana,” Murray says of that brand’s open, airy layout.

Cindy Kalow, owner of ­Superior Charters in Bayfield, Wisconsin, ­also manages a diverse fleet of ­older and newer boats, including a ­couple of Lagoon catamarans. Alongside her 30-boat charter fleet, she ­also runs a sailing school, and is the ­area’s Jeanneau and Lagoon dealer.

When customers ask her what’s the best boat to buy to put into charter, she tells them, “It’s the boat that makes you happy when you walk down the dock.”

People plan out a sailing vacation for any number of reasons. For some, it’s the destination; for others, it’s a chance to sail in a regatta in a tropical location; or a new-boat shopper might want to try out a particular model for a week or two before they buy. Chances are, if you have a particular kind, brand or model of boat you’re interested in, if you shop around, you’re bound to find it for charter.

What follows is a brief look at those 10 bestsellers ­mentioned in the beginning.

Bali Catspace Sail

Several years ago, longtime French performance-catamaran builder Chantier Catana jumped into the charter game with its Bali line of fixed-keel, roomy cruising cats. The most recent addition to that lineup, and reportedly the boat most often chosen when charter companies go shopping, is the 40-foot Bali Catspace Sail (a motor version is also available).

Like its larger siblings, the Catspace has a range of features designed for a crew of friends headed for tropical climes looking for sun, fun and rum, all mixed with a healthy dose of trade-wind sailing.

Designed by Olivier Poncin, the Catspace sports the Bali trademark garage-style saloon door that slides up and out of the way, opening up the cockpit and interior into one large, shaded living and entertaining space. A helm station is located one floor up, along with a padded lounge area that shares a portion of the cabin top aft of the mast and the cockpit Bimini.

Forward of the cabin, instead of trampolines, a solid fiberglass bridge deck spans the hulls to make room for yet another cushioned area in which to hang out. An added bonus of the solid foredeck is the lack of spray when underway.

Under sail, a self-tacking jib keeps the work simple for the day’s designated skipper, meaning the rest of the crew can kick back and enjoy the ride.

Depending on the ­charter program, the boat may be available in either a three- or four-cabin layout, and equipped with a range of kit that includes electric winches, a sprit and off-wind sail, watermaker, microwave, and an impressively sized fridge and freezer.

Bavaria C45

Charterers bound for vacations aboard a monohull in Europe and certain parts of the Caribbean are likely to encounter the latest generation of Bavaria Yachts, which are built in Germany and drawn and styled by the team at ­Cossutti Yacht design in Italy.

I got to visit one of the ­latest models, the C45, at its introduction during the 2018 boat show in Dusseldorf, and my immediate ­impression was that it would make a good home away from home with a few family members and friends. I’ve not yet had a chance to sail the ­45-footer, but I have thoroughly enjoyed a couple of afternoons out on the water aboard two other Cossutti-designed ­Bavarias. Both boats could click off the miles, and both were quite easy to sail shorthanded, thanks to a self-tacking jib and a double-ended mainsheet led to each of the twin wheels.

The cockpit area forward of the helms on the C45 includes benches to either side, each with its own table. This arrangement creates a clear path to the companionway and ­saloon down below.

At anchor, a large fold-down swim platform provides access to both the water and a ­dinghy garage. The transom is also home to a sink and grill for outdoor cooking.

Thanks to hull chines that create considerable interior volume, depending on your crew’s needs, the C45 is available with three, four and five cabins, so you can bring along the whole gang.

Beneteau 46.1

Beneteau first introduced the Oceanis 46.1 to North American sailors during the 2018 fall boat season, and it’s no surprise that it’s now the French builder’s most popular ­model sold to charter companies, especially in Europe, where monohulls remain in demand thanks to crowded harbors and the preference for tying stern to along a packed quay in many locations.

I got aboard the boat a couple of times that year, once in a new-model preview in Newport, Rhode Island, and again with CW’s Boat of the Year judges in Annapolis, Maryland. Both times I came away impressed by the boat’s performance and creature comforts.

The Pascal Conq-designed hull is slippery through the water and delivers lots of space below (more on that in a minute). In 10 knots of breeze, we cruised upwind at close to 8 knots flying the easy-to-handle 107 percent genoa; cracked off on a reef with the code zero unfurled, the speedo jumped well into the 9s.

Meanwhile, the deck ­layout and interior by Nauta were both conducive to chartering. The work of sailing takes place aft of the twin helms, where sheets and other control lines are close at hand for the skipper and crew who want to join the fun. Those who want to relax can enjoy cockpit seats that convert to sunbeds, with more lounge pads to either side of the companionway.

The 46.1 comes in layouts ranging from three cabins and two heads to five cabins, meaning you can escape for a romantic week as a couple, or bring along a crowd for a party.

Dufour 530 Grand Large

It’s easy to understand why the recently introduced ­Dufour 530 is already the company’s top seller for chartering. It’s a big, comfortable boat, ­loaded with options, and boy, does it sail.

For more than 15 years, ­Dufours have been designed by Umberto Felci, of Felci Yacht Design. The result is a range of boats which, as it scales up in size, maintains the same look and feel among all the models. With many charter fleets comprised of various-size ­Dufours, return skippers can feel ­encouraged to push their skill set by moving up from, say, the mid-40-footer they rented last time, and opting instead to step over the 50-foot threshold. And when they do, they will find that the 530′s self-tacking jib or slightly overlapping genoa is relatively easy to handle, while the rest of the boat has a familiar feel, right down to the layout of the saloon with its galley forward by the mast, and the grill and fold-down swim platform on the stern.

With a little more than 16 feet of beam, there’s lots of room for guests and belongings down below. Depending on the layout offered by the charter company, there can be anywhere from three to six cabins.

When sailing, that beamy hard-chined hull tends to keep the boat standing upright, ensuring nonsailing guests a comfortable ride. But the ­sailors aboard won’t be disappointed either. On a test sail this past fall, loping along at 8 knots in 10 knots of breeze, even though the Boat of the Year team was working, we thoroughly enjoyed ourselves.

Fountaine Pajot Isla 40

Fountaine Pajot has packed a lot of versatility into the ­Berret-Racoupeau-designed Isla 40, the smallest boat in the builder’s seven-model range of cruising catamarans.

At 40 feet LOA, the Isla is available in both a three- and four-cabin layout, ­depending on the charter program, and can include crew quarters in the bows, making it also ­suitable for a crewed charter.

The size of the cat, its ­sailing ability and its ­creature comforts are no doubt the ­reasons for its appeal to ­charterers. Laid out with four cabins with en suite heads, the Isla can carry a crowd, but its size also makes it easily ­handled by a skipper and shorthanded crew, or even a couple off on a holiday.

The Isla’s helm station is ­located on the starboard ­bulkhead, and it’s ­accessible from both the cockpit ­below and the side deck. This keeps the driver in contact with those lounging under the ­Bimini, but it also provides ­excellent access forward, if needed. All sail control lines are led to winches close at hand on the cabin top.

A well-equipped galley is just inside the saloon door, so meals can easily be passed to guests seated at the large outdoor table. Inside, a U-shaped couch forward surrounds a second, smaller table. Large windows surround the cabin, ­providing excellent 360-degree views. Meanwhile, ports in either hull allow light to pour into the sleeping cabins below. All in all, the Isla offers big-cat luxury at a smaller-boat price.

Hanse 458

If your sailing vacation plans include a Caribbean or European destination, a Hanse 458 could very well be one of the monohull sailboats available in the bareboat fleet. Designed by Judel/Vrolijk and built in Germany, the 458 is available with either three or four cabins, the latter likely being the preferred layout for the charter crowd.

As with its larger and smaller siblings, the 458 features a self-tacking jib, which simplifies maneuvering under sail. Tacking requires just a turn of the wheel, while a double-ended German-style mainsheet, led to a winch at each wheel, means that you have control of the main at all times, especially when jibing. Simple sailing doesn’t mean a lack of performance though. Hanse hulls are slippery, and the boat comes standard with a full-batten main that keeps the 458 moving well in light air. The main is easily put away in a boom pouch at the end of the day.

All the sailing is done aft of the twin wheels. ­Forward of them, guests can enjoy the generously sized L-shaped cockpit seats that sit to ­either side of a large ­table, ­complete with a built-in ­cooler. At ­anchor, a large swim ­platform provides easy ­access to the ­water, dinghy or, if ­Med-moored, the quay. And a clean uncluttered deck means there’s plenty of space to ­sunbathe forward of the mast.

Down below, the 458 is open and airy, with a minimalist ­interior that includes a well-stocked galley and a spacious dining area in the saloon.

Jeanneau Sun Odyssey 440

Sometimes a charter trip means you get to discover a new location; other times, it’s a chance to experience a whole new concept in boat design. Depending on your ­destination, the Jeanneau Sun Odyssey 440 is capable of ­delivering on both counts.

With the 440, Jeanneau, along with designers Phillippe Briand and Jean-Marc Piaton, introduced the proprietary Walk Around Decks concept, an idea that garnered multiple awards, including CW’s Most Innovative prize in the 2018 Boat of the Year contest.

With hard chines and beam carried well aft, the builder was able to reallocate ­interior space to include two full-size aft cabins and, topsides, side decks that slope down to meet the cockpit floor. From ­either of the twin wheels, captain and crew need only step outboard and saunter forward rather than having to climb over cockpit coamings to reach the side decks.

At anchor, the aforementioned cockpit coamings are hinged and can be folded out to create two huge sunbathing beds for the crew. Down below, meanwhile, layouts ­include a three-cabin version, with a large berth forward, or two forward cabins, both with double berths.

Under sail, the 440 performs well. The hull is slippery, and the anchor roller doubles as a tack-down point if off-wind sails are available; twin rudders provide plenty of control as conditions get sporty. In port, the roomy interior is bright and well-equipped for relaxing and entertaining around a large dining table surrounded by a U-shaped couch and ­centerline bench.

Lagoon 42

Various models of Lagoon Catamarans are found in charter fleets around the world, but the company says that the Lagoon 42, launched in 2016 and named Best Full-Size Catamaran Under 50 Feet in CW’s 2017 Boat of the Year contest, is the top-selling model, probably for a number of reasons.

First, the boat’s price and size make it an affordable option for vacationers because they can take along as ­many guests as they might on a ­larger, more expensive model. As with most cats in this size range, the 42 is available in either a three- or four-cabin layout. In either case, ports in the hull let lots of light into the cabins, and opening hatches provide good ventilation.

And then there is the sail plan. Lagoon and the designers at VPLP have in recent years favored masts set farther aft, with high-aspect mainsails and larger headsails, which on the 42 includes a self-tacking jib and, if supplied by the ­charter company, a code zero or other off-wind sail.

On a sailing vacation, often the crew includes kids or friends with varying degrees of sailing experience. At 42 feet, this model is still relatively easy for a skipper to handle, even if everyone else decides to kick back and enjoy the ride. The helm is semiraised, so a driver sits looking out over the cabin top ahead and the Bimini behind. This provides good sightlines and ­also keeps the skipper in touch with the crew. All sail control lines, meanwhile, are led to clutches and a pair of winches within arm’s reach of the wheel, which is right where they should be.

Moorings 4500/Sunsail 454

Owned by the same parent company, the Moorings and Sunsail spec out and buy more charter catamarans than anyone in the world, and with the feedback that they get from customers, they have a pretty good idea of what people are looking for in a sailing vacation. So, there’s little wonder that the 45-footer built by Robinson and Caine and sold into charter as the Moorings 4500 and Sunsail 454 won the title of Best Charter Catamaran when CW’s Boat of the Year judges were handing out awards in 2017.

The popular midsize cat is also sold to private owners as the Leopard 45, and is available in either a three- or four-cabin layout. Both charter brands opt for the latter, which provides for accommodations for up to 11 guests, thanks to a bunk forward of the double cabins in the port hull and a convertible berth for two in the saloon.

As with other models designed by Alex Simonis, the 45-footer features ­noteworthy views from multiple ports and cabin windows, as well as a ­watertight door that opens ­onto a forward, shaded cockpit. Anchored in the trade winds with both saloon doors open, the breeze keeps things cool, and sunrises and sunsets can be enjoyed while sitting at either end of the boat.

Underway, a square-top main and overlapping genoa ­provide plenty of horsepower, and there are multiple places on board for couple to find a private place to sit, or for the crew to gather to enjoy the ride.

Nautitech 46 Fly

Who doesn’t appreciate a rooftop balcony with a view, especially if that ­panorama consists of white sand ­beaches, palm trees waving in the trade winds, and gin-clear deep blue waters? Well, that’s exactly what you’ll get if you’re spending a week or two aboard a charter cat whose design ­includes a flybridge, say, for ­instance, the Nautitech 46 Fly.

Designed by Marc Lombard, the 46 comes in an open version, with the helm mounted on the cabin bulkhead, and the Fly, with essentially a third floor added atop the saloon and cockpit Bimini. From there, the skipper has a commanding 360-degree view while seated at the helm, and the crew can lounge around a table surrounded by padded seats and a sun lounge.

In other words, the ­flybridge adds the option of sailing and living ­completely alfresco if guests prefer to, or they can relax in the shade down below under the ­Bimini. And should a squall come through and rain on paradise, there’s the adjacent saloon with its aft-facing galley and additional couches to enjoy.

For charter, the 46 Fly comes in a four-cabin ­layout with en suite heads. A self-tacking jib and full-­batten main are standard. ­Depending on the charter company, the sail inventory ­also might ­include a code ­zero or ­other ­off-wind sail. Atop the flybridge, all sail control lines lead to the winches at the ­centerline helm, making shorthanded sailing quite possible if others aboard want to ­simply sit and enjoy the ride.

Mark Pillsbury is CW’s editor.

The post 10 Popular Charter Sailboats appeared first on Cruising World.

Uno!”

The now-familiar game-ending shout rang out from the cockpit, followed by the groan of the other players and the gloating of the victorious. I heard the cards reshuffle and another round begin. We were underway during a weeklong charter of the Florida Keys, and I was patting myself on the back for remembering to grab a few games and decks of cards before we left the dock. With sketchy cell service in the area, the kids—three teens and one preteen—had a sort-of forced break from their screens and made heavy use of the games, Uno in particular. To me, this was nothing short of magic, during a year that desperately needed some.

The idea of a shared charter between our family (myself; my husband, Green; and our daughters, Caitlin, 15, and Juliana, 11) and our close friends Giulia and William May (and their daughters, Marianna, 17, and Camilla, 15) came up a couple of years prior, but we were finally all able to make it happen in December 2020.

With travel restrictions and rising COVID-19 numbers pretty much everywhere this past winter, we needed a destination that would be easy to get to (our family was driving) and, well, open. Dream Yacht Charter’s new base in Key West, Florida, was a perfect fit, and a sort of return to some old stomping grounds.

Dream Yacht Charter opened its Key West base at the Stock Island Yacht Club & Marina in fall 2020. Domestic charter destinations received a huge boost due to COVID-related international travel restrictions, and Key West and the Florida Keys are about as tropical as you can get without leaving the continental US. To our crew, this sounded absolutely perfect.

Green and I grew up in Florida and lived for a while pre-kids on our boat in Key West. We haven’t been back often since, and this was the first time we’ve taken the girls there. They humored us, more or less, on our memory-lane trip down the Overseas Highway. Our friends beat us there, and we met up with William and Marianna at the marina pool waiting for our charter boat to be ready for us. Not wanting to waste a minute of time, Giulia and Camilla were already on a massive provisioning run.

“Should we have a teen side and an adult side? Or should each family get a hull?” These were the totally legitimate questions being floated by the kids as we climbed aboard and shared a welcome toast with our glasses of champagne. Our ride for the week was a Fountaine Pajot Astréa 42 named Asgard, and with four en suite cabins, it was a perfect fit. While each rooming plan had its merits, we ended up with a hull for each family, although Juliana typically slept in the main saloon. The well-appointed galley was Giulia’s domain (Italian through and through, she’s honestly one of the best cooks I know), and stowing the bounty she brought back from the store took some finesse. One thing was for sure: No one would starve this week.

On our first night away from the dock, we didn’t go all that far. Last-minute trips to stores for random forgotten items and another bottle or so of rum—just in case—took up a chunk of the morning, but once we pulled away, it felt great. We anchored off Archer Key, one of the small mangrove islands about 5 miles west of Key West, but it instantly felt a world away. The girls took no time at all getting in the water, while Green and William went exploring in the dinghy. Giulia and I enjoyed some prosecco while watching one of the Keys’ famous sunsets. The weight of 2020 that everyone had been carrying in some way evaporated, even if it was only for the week.

From the planning stages of this trip, the goal had always been to visit the Dry Tortugas. Even though I used to live in the Keys, I had never been, and the photos of Fort Jefferson looked so intriguing (It’s a big brick fort! In the middle of the water!) that we were all really excited to see it. Honestly, we thought it would be a given. Realistically, however, the Dry Tortugas is about 70 miles west of Key West. A haul, and depending on the weather, it could be lovely, or a complete no-go. And there’s the return trip to think about as well.

The distances involved and the time we had in which to do it all was definitely in the back of my mind. Green’s too, particularly when he checked the latest weather forecast. For the most part, December is a wonderful time to be in Key West, but cold fronts do come through and can mess up an otherwise well-planned week. Of course, one was coming, and we needed a more protected anchorage to sit it out. Our Day Two destination became Newfound Harbor, up the Keys a bit, between Ramrod Key and Little Torch Key. A conservative move, but we were on vacation and didn’t want an uncomfortable night at anchor. And fortunately, we left our first anchorage early enough to give us time for a stop at the reef.

The Keys are protected by the Florida Reef, the third-largest coral barrier-reef system in the world. It extends nearly 350 miles from St. Lucie to the Dry Tortugas and in depths ranging from 15 to 35 feet. A highlight of any trip to the Keys includes diving or snorkeling at any one of the reef sites. The Florida Keys National Marine Sanctuary maintains almost 500 free moorings along the reef for visiting mariners on a first-come, first-served basis, and we were able to grab one not too far from Key West for our snorkel adventure.

“The fish are nibbling my toes!” Camilla squealed as she swam in the turquoise water of the Sand Key reef, southwest of Key West. The rest of us geared up with our snorkel stuff and jumped in. The fish, used to plenty of day-trippers from the snorkel boats, were indeed friendly. At 30 feet or so, the reef is very accessible to snorkelers and divers alike. The water felt refreshing, and there was even a turtle sighting. Back aboard, it was time for lunch and a drink before heading to our anchorage ahead of the front. William, an eager fisherman, got the lines ready to troll behind the boat for the roughly 25-mile trip. The Keys is a world-class fishing destination, and visions of mahimahi whet everyone’s appetites.

To try for the Dry Tortugas—or not. Green called a crew meeting to discuss our plan. Depending on how strong the front was, and how sloppy the seas were, the trip to the Dry Tortugas could be, well, uncomfortable, and several of our crew tend to get seasick. If conditions weren’t right, we could run out of time waiting for an appropriate window to make it there and back. If this were the case, he said, we should come up with a plan B. The thought of not going to the Dry Tortugas and checking out Fort Jefferson was disappointing, to be sure, but the thought of anyone being miserable was bad too. So we sketched out an alternative: Sail up the Keys and check out all the dive spots, have a beach day at Bahia Honda State Park, and maybe spend time in Key West at the end, with lots of sailing, relaxing, good food and Uno games to pass the time. No stress. Not a bad plan, really.

The front came though that evening, and our protected anchorage did its job of keeping everyone comfortable. Swimming at the reef plus a good sail meant that we slept well. The next morning, the sun was shining and the crew was eager to get underway. But where to? We took another look at the weather and decided that, as long as everyone was on board, so to speak, we could make a go of the Dry Tortugas. The plan now was to head back down to Key West, splurge on a slip at Key West Bight Marina, and then, assuming the weather was still favorable, be off the dock by 0700 the next morning.

With the post-frontal wind now a bit northerly, we had a nice, if chilly, reach back to Key West. None of the kids had been there before, so we decided to check out downtown. Due to peaking COVID numbers pretty much everywhere in December 2020, we all decided to play it as safe as we could, and skipped the many bars and restaurants dotting Duval Street. Not to worry—Key West is crazy enough, even if you’re just out for a stroll. The Cuban music, Christmas lights, and even a bike parade with dozens of people dressed in Santa’s finery all added to the town’s festive feel. We hit a few obligatory souvenir shops, and once the kids started asking to stop at the henna tattoo booth, we decided it was time to head back to the boat. Dinner was burgers on the grill, and Giulia introduced us to a version of a mojito cocktail that replaces the soda water with lager-style beer. And dare I say, it was pretty good.

The sun wasn’t quite up as Green, William and Marianna got the boat ready to head out while I settled up the dockage bill and bought some ice for the cooler. The weather report looked good—our sail there would likely be bumpy, but our return trip in two days should be smooth sailing. It was definitely sweatshirt weather, but at least the sky was clear. We motored out of the marina, and once in open water, put up the sails. Next stop: Dry Tortugas National Park!

Our ETA was about 1530, and conditions were a bit sporty. Much of the run between Key West and the Dry Tortugas is in relatively shallow water, which can kick up waves. Juliana—who, despite growing up on a sailboat, still has a tough time at sea—slept most of the day. Caitlin and Marianna took turns at the helm for a while, while William remained hopeful that his fishing lines would produce a tasty dinner. After a while, the kids retreated to the saloon for some rounds of Uno while glancing at their phones as the cell signal faded away.

The Dry Tortugas might be only 70 miles away, but it really feels out there. Not often on a charter vacation do you have the opportunity to sail out of sight of land, so this journey really felt like an adventure. There are a number of shoals (some are marked) and wrecks of various depths on the chart, so a keen watch was necessary. Asgard handled herself well, and I found myself really appreciating the ergonomics of the boat—everywhere I sat was comfortable, and handholds were always in just the right places. It occurred to me on this leg of the trip why I hadn’t actually ever been to these islands before, despite having lived on a boat in Key West. Green and I had lived aboard a 32-foot Pearson Vanguard at the time, and unless the winds and seas were perfect, it would have been a long slog of a trip. The timing just never had been right.

“Fish on!” William shouted, and from the trouble he was having reeling in the line, we all thought it could be a big one. With fingers crossed for a mahi, he instead landed a false albacore/bonito. False albacore can be a tricky fish to prepare, and since none of us had had success with it before, we tossed it back. Ah well… there were more fish in the sea, right?

I had taken a break from the sun and had been reading in my cabin for a little bit, and when I came back up, Green directed me to the horizon. Rising out of the bright cerulean water was a brick-red fort. It seemed so out of place, like it had been magically placed there. We had finally made it to Fort Jefferson and Dry Tortugas National Park.

While a seemingly unlikely place for a massive fort, the location of the Dry Tortugas served as a strategic advance post for ships patrolling the Gulf of Mexico and Florida Strait in the mid-1800s. Comprised of more than 16 million bricks, it’s the largest masonry structure in the Western Hemisphere. Pondering the logistics of building it is mind-blowing. Construction of the fort lasted for 30 years, from 1846 to 1875, though it was never actually finished; construction eventually ended with the Civil War, when the fort was used as a Union prison. The most famous (infamous?) prisoner there was Dr. Samuel Mudd, who was convicted of conspiracy in the assassination of President Lincoln and had set the broken leg of John Wilkes Booth, Lincoln’s assassin.

There are extensive reefs surrounding the islands of the park, so to get to the main anchorage on the southeast side of the fort, you need to basically do a wide circle around the island. We happily dropped the hook at about 1530, and decided to immediately go check out the fort. It was nothing short of impressive. We chatted with one of the park rangers stationed there and took a self-guided tour. Since it was late in the day, we nearly had the fort to ourselves. Day-trippers come over by ferry and seaplane, so once they leave, it’s just the campers who are staying at the primitive campground adjacent to the fort, and the cruisers. The late-afternoon light was gorgeous, and we all enjoyed stretching our legs as we walked under the multitude of brick arches and explored each level of the fort.

Back at the boat, the girls brought out the Scrabble board and invented some creative takes on the game. Asgard was pretty tricked out, so after dinner we connected our phones and cameras to the boat’s TV and played slideshows of all the photos we had all taken so far. Choosing a “photo of the day” was difficult. With the Dry Tortugas’ remote location comes a feeling of really getting away from it all, which is amplified when you take a look at the night sky—the stars there are incredible.

There is more to the Dry Tortugas than Fort Jefferson (which is technically on Garden Key), so the next day, we sailed over to Loggerhead Key, which is notable because of its beautiful lighthouse. Due to the reefs, no sailing between the islands is direct, and our journey to the west side of Loggerhead took most of the morning. There is one day-use mooring buoy here, and we were lucky to snag it. The angle of the sun, however, was less than ideal for getting to the mooring, which is situated among numerous coral heads. After a nail-biting 15 minutes on approach and a few close calls, we were secured and eager to get in the water. I had rented two inflatable stand-up paddleboards from Dream for the week, and we finally got to use them. Everyone had a blast ­swimming, checking out the coral heads near the boat, and paddling the boards. And the vista couldn’t be beat. “This is easily one of the prettiest places I’ve ever been,” Green commented. I had to agree.

Later that afternoon, we took the dinghy on a snorkel expedition of a shipwreck on the reef extending to the southwest of Loggerhead Key. Much of the wreck is close enough to the surface to be snorkel-friendly, although I would have loved to have had scuba equipment with me. The site, known as the Windjammer Wreck, is a Norwegian sailing vessel named Avanti that sank in 1907 while en route to Uruguay from Pensacola. It might not be easy to impress teenagers, but I’m pretty sure that snorkeling on a shipwreck did.

Unfortunately, our time at Loggerhead was up, and we trekked back to the fort anchorage for the night. We made it back with enough time for Juliana to have one more swim and for William and Camilla to explore in the dinghy along the shore. Sunset that night was breathtaking, and I swear that I saw the green flash. After dinner, William was trying a little night fishing from the stern when something in the water grabbed his attention. It seemed…big. Maybe a shark? Shining his headlamp into the water for a closer look, he discovered who our visitors were: three goliath groupers. He quickly put the fishing gear away, and we all gathered on the transoms to watch the incredible fish, which I had never seen in the wild before. Goliath groupers are an endangered ­species and can grow to be more than 8 feet long and 800 pounds. Their visit lasted easily a half-hour and was one of the coolest things I’ve witnessed. Watching the kids take it all in was the best part.

All too soon it was time to head back to the Dream Yacht Charter base. Our return sail was as lovely as the sail there was sporty, and everyone was in high spirits from the adventure we’d just had. After a few days of no cell signal, the teens were ready to be connected again, although I definitely was not. We made good enough time for a stop at the Marquesas Keys, an uninhabited group of islands west of Key West. The islands are low and mostly mangroves, and for us, unfortunately, offered no fishing luck. Oh well.

Since the boat had to be back at the base by 0900, we decided to anchor out for our last night aboard near the entrance channel to the marina. On the way there, William did have some fishing success, and a king mackerel would be part of the night’s menu, along with any of the remaining provisions. Taking in one last sunset, we all reflected on what an amazing week it had been. Giulia put it best when she wished out loud that we could just keep going. Me too, I thought, and we started chatting about where we might want to charter next.

We turned in Asgard the next morning and said our goodbyes, thankful for the opportunity, and in particular to have shared it with the kids. Taking a break from the stress of 2020 and piling on a boat for a week truly soothed our souls—even the teens had to agree—and it was, in ways we all needed, magic.

Jennifer Brett is CW’s senior editor.

If You Go

Weather: Key West is a year-round sailing destination, although the best time to go is between early November and early May. Summers are hot and humid with frequent thunderstorms and a chance of tropical storms. Winters can range from warm and muggy to cooler and drier if a front has passed through. While in the Dry Tortugas, you can check with the park rangers for the latest weather forecast (since your cell phone won’t work, and reception of NOAA weather radio is spotty).

Fishing: The waters of the Florida Keys and Dry Tortugas are highly regulated, so it’s best to brush up on the rules ahead of time. If you plan on fishing, purchase your fishing license before your charter at ­gooutdoorsflorida.com.

Park Fees: Visitors to the Dry Tortugas National Park must pay an entry fee, and if you’re there on a boat, you’ll need a boat permit. All can be purchased at the Garden Key dock house.

The post Finding Magic on a Journey Through the Florida Keys appeared first on Cruising World.

Excess catamaran 15. Excess world and explore perfectly designed catamarans inspired by racing for cruising pleasure.

Right up front, let me say three things about the new Excess 15, which I got to sail with my Boat of the Year colleagues this past fall in ocean waters off Fort Lauderdale, Florida: It’s a big, roomy cruising cat that’s super easy to handle and really fun to sail. OK, make it four things: We all liked the boat. A lot.

Excess Catamarans is a new brand, just two years old, launched by French builder Group Beneteau, and designed to reach a segment of the multihull market where it saw an opening: namely monohull sailors who appreciate the actual sailing aspect of cruising but who are open to the creature comforts a multihull has to offer.

Hey, that’s me!

I do the majority of my sailing on a single hull. I appreciate the thrill when the rail occasionally dips into the water. I like the feedback that I get from the wheel, the water rushing past, a little spray in my face from time to time. But then again, some of my favorite adventures have taken place on two hulls. Lounging on the tramp in a pretty anchorage, power reaching from island to island, plenty of room to take family and friends along, private cabins and multiple spaces to gather—what’s not to like about those aspects of a cruising cat?

I found that the Excess 15 borrowed liberally from both worlds. It is spacious, can be loaded up with options, and everybody aboard is going to want to take a turn at the wheel. Trust me on this; the 15 is downright sporty to drive, especially with the code zero unrolled.

The boat’s standard configuration is a square-top main and self-tending jib, but Excess also offers what it calls its Pulse package, with a 3-foot-taller mast, bowsprit and code zero set on a continuous-line furler. We got to sail this power-­packed solent-rig version, and it’s the one I’d consider if I were writing a check.

Upwind, the self-tending jib makes the boat simple to singlehand. In 10 to 12 knots of wind, the speedo hovered in the high 7-knot range, and tacking required only a turn of the wheel and adjustment of the Harken electric traveler. When we bore off onto a reach, we lost a knot or so of speed, but conditions were perfect to furl the jib and deploy the big reacher. Immediately, the speedo jumped to 10 and change, and off we went.

I found that the locations of the twin wheels—aft and outboard on either transom—were also a value add. I’ve sailed aboard cats with the helm on a flybridge or raised seat adjacent to the aft bulkhead, and I’ve felt disconnected from the water, and sometimes the rest of the crew if they’ve wandered off to some other corner of the boat. On the Excess, the interaction with others on board seemed more monohull-like, with everyone in the cockpit and within earshot.

RELATED: Beneteau Oceanis Yacht 54 Boat Review

Said cockpit features an ­inviting dining table to port surrounded by an L-shaped couch, a large lounge opposite, and a padded bench seat across the transom between fold-down helm seats. Overhead, the center of the Bimini slides open to let the sunlight pour in, and provides an excellent view of the mainsail while underway. On the boat we sailed, cockpit gatherings were further encouraged by adding a sink, fridge and ice maker to the amenities.

In the saloon, glass windows all around and a large slider door aft offer a 360-degree look at the world, while also providing relatively good visibility forward from the helms. An L-shaped galley with sink, stove, oven and microwave is located in the aft port corner of the main cabin; opposite is a drawer-style fridge and freezer, with more counter space above them. A second large table and another L-shaped couch are forward.

The boat we sailed had a traditional three-cabin layout, with the owner’s quarters occupying the starboard hull; two en suite guest cabins filled the port hull, along with another freezer amidships. The boat can also be configured with four en suite berths, or with six cabins and six heads (two additional crew berths are available in the forepeaks), which should prove popular with the charter crowd.

The base price for the 15 is $737,000, but the boat we sailed, delivered to the US and loaded with options—including a bow thruster and FLIR cameras—is right around $950,000, reflecting the benefits and costs of living and sailing to excess.

Mark Pillsbury is CW’s editor.

The post Excess 15 Boat Review appeared first on Cruising World.

“Plongée,” the man in the canoe said to me.

I flipped through the pages of my French sailor’s dictionary, hoping to stumble upon an explanation of what this man wanted. It had been years since we were in a French-speaking territory, and I was woefully unprepared to figure out he was talking about diving.

But I was motivated. In his small little dugout canoe was my prize for a successful negotiation: two large spiny lobsters and a moderate-size grouper. We had stumbled through delivery negotiations the day before.

“Langoustine?” he had asked me.

“Oui!”

He held his hands up: big or small?

“Gros.”

And then fingers: one, two, three?

“Deux.”

He nodded and sat in his canoe.

“Poisson?” I asked him.

And there we were, 12 hours later, and all that stood between me and a seafood extravaganza was my horrible French. I had no ariary, the local currency, and when I offered euros, he shook his head.

I stepped inside our 44-foot catamaran, Starry Horizons, a Fountaine Pajot Helia, and pulled out a few items from a designated “trading” bag. Prior to our arrival in Madagascar, cruising friends who had come before had advised us that the Malagasy people prefer trade over commerce.

I handed the man a few items, which he looked over—some he kept, some he gave back. “Plongée,” he said again, tapping an open hand on the surface of the water.

Finally, I pulled out a snorkel mask, and he became excited. With a big smile, he accepted the mask and handed me over his catch.

I was proud of myself; it was our first morning in Madagascar, and I’d just had a successful interaction with a local and acquired some delicious seafood.

My husband, David, and I had come over the top of the island from the Seychelles, a passage that had taken us a little less than four days, and the previous night had been a whopper. Cap d’Ambre had proved to be challenging, with the swells and currents hitting us in the black of night. Starry Horizons climbed up waves, barely making any speed over the ground, before surfing down the other side at 10 knots.

We’d hastily thrown on both engines and cut toward the shore—land that we couldn’t see under the cover of clouds and a new moon. The chop and wind lasted longer than we thought it would, even while trying to tuck in along the shore to get under its lee. Finally, we dropped anchor at Nosy Mitsio, a small island off the northwest coast, where we were well-protected and not alone; three other cruising boats were in the anchorage just off the village.

This was our first true glimpse of Madagascar. It was dry and brown with sparse vegetation, and cows—or maybe zebu, the horned and humped cattle— wandered along the shore.

Since we hadn’t officially cleared in yet, we rested and moved on quickly, taking a day to sail down to Nosy Be, the hub for sailing activity in Madagascar, and one of the busiest tourist centers in the country.

Madagascar, once known at the Malagasy Republic, has always intrigued me. Even before other sailors had told me that the island nation was on their list of favorite places, I pictured it as an opportunity to explore a world completely different from my own. We were on the home stretch of our own circumnavigation, and had been to many places where the cultures were vastly different from ours. But these places didn’t seem as authentic. For instance, tourists flock to Thailand by the millions (35 million in 2017), whereas Madagascar, only slightly larger than Thailand, saw fewer than 100,000 tourists in the same year.

There’s a reason: It’s hard to get there, and once you reach the former French colony, travel within the country is a challenge too. A majority of the roads (some estimate 90 percent) are unpaved and wash out during the rainy season. Trains and buses are cheap but cramped and unreliable.

Travelers can overcome these difficulties by visiting Nosy Be, however. It’s a small island on the northwest coast. Direct flights arrive from Europe, bypassing the capital, Antananarivo, and there are a variety of activities available when you get there, whether as a tourist or cruiser.

Touring the Town

We arrived at Hell-Ville, the capital of Nosy Be, with vague advice from friends to “find Jimmy with the red hat.” And despite the thick traffic of tour boats, ferries and traditional Malagasy dhow fishing boats, we did find him. It turns out that he’s at the dock every morning keeping an eye out for the few sailboats that wander into Hell-Ville’s unattractive port to complete their formalities.

Jimmy spent all day with us. We visited the required offices, paid fees and filled out paperwork. He took us to the ATM, where we stuffed our wallets full of 20,000 ariary bills, each the equivalent of $5 back home in the US. With our newfound cash, we bought a SIM card, connected to the internet, and then hired a tuk-tuk to take us shopping at a store called Shampion, which was stuffed with French imports. I had thought that Madagascar would be one of the harder places to provision based on its economy, but happily, I was wrong; the shelves were full of Western foods.

Besides Bio- and Carrefour-branded items, I found Tsara Malagasy dark chocolate. At no other time in my life have I experienced such a startling departure from a familiar taste. Malagasy chocolate is rich and fruity, made of a bean variety rarely grown elsewhere.

Next, Jimmy took us to the Hell-Ville Market, a building stuffed to the gills with local food. I bought small shelled peanuts, roasted and salted to perfection; smoked and dried bananas that are ubiquitous to French territories; and giant, succulent Malagasy tiger shrimp, caught that morning by the local fishermen. (I avoided the red hunks of zebu meat that were sitting out and covered with flies.)

When our day with Jimmy was done, we’d paid officials over $200 to visit Nosy Be. Without negotiating, we also paid Jimmy his requested fee, a paltry amount for spending the entire day with us. We’d done the same with our tuk-tuk driver and at each stall at the market. The prices were low, the economic gap wide, and I gratefully handed over the fees.

Settling In

Sailors in Madagascar learn to time their days with the breeze: offshore in the morning, onshore in the afternoon. In between, it’s either dead-calm or the breeze is light. We chose afternoon to move to Nosy Komba, an island 6 miles southeast of Hell-Ville. We raised sails and coasted along in 7 knots of wind, dodging the traffic in and out of Hell-Ville. By sunset, we were anchored on the northeast side of the island, fairly unprotected from the swell but next to our buddy boat and friends Kimi and Trevor, who had been in Madagascar for more than a month.

In the morning, the four of us went to the park-ranger office in the village and hired a guide to take us on an ambitious trip to the top of the island. Our ranger, John, grabbed a fistful of bananas before we started the climb.

As we walked, John told us about the local village, and we passed through stalls where women sell hand-carved wooden lemurs or traditionally woven linens. Most were unattended because it was still early.

John stopped us. “Look,” he said, pointing to the tree. “We have company.”

Climbing through the branches were lemurs. The females—the bosses—were brown; the males, black.

“Stand right here,” he directed me, “and turn around.”

A moment later, I was startled when a small weight hit my shoulder from behind. My cheek brushed against delicate fur, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw an inquisitive face and a paw reaching out for John’s offered banana.

We all took turns standing by the tree as lemurs leaped onto our heads, shoulders or backs, and climbed down our arms. They were lighter than we expected, and softer. Several of the females had babies clinging to their bellies, with large round eyes staring at us.

When the bananas were gone, so were the lemurs.

“In the rainy season, when the fruits are ripe, they don’t come to feed with us. There’s too much good food for them in the trees,” John told us as we continued on up the path.

Then John stopped us again five minutes later. He pointed to a small tree just to the left of the trail, and I strained my eyes trying to see what he saw. As happens when viewing an autostereogram, my eyes adjusted, and a chameleon appeared in the leaves before me. And then I saw them everywhere. The others saw them too, and we watched their tall but extremely narrow bodies as they slowly, haltingly climbed the branches.

As we climbed, we saw a ground boa, various lizards and insects, and we passed a religious memorial and cemetery for French soldiers. At the top, overlooking Nosy Be, we found a bamboo shack on a manicured plot of land. The lawn was dotted with picnic tables and the view was spectacular, the flat-calm waters around the islands reflected the clouds above. At the shack, a young man sold beverages. John ordered a hot lemongrass tea, while the rest of us asked for cold lemon juice; Trevor got his with a shot of local rum.

Dhows and Dugouts

Back in Nosy Be, we anchored in Crater Bay off the yacht club. In the morning, we sipped our wake-up beverages and watched the local fishermen. All day, every day, they paddled by in dugout canoes to lay out fishing nets before hauling up shimmering silver fish by the hundreds. Meanwhile, traditional Malagasy dhows glided around us, with their patched sails making use of the light winds.

“What exactly are we doing on the tour today?” David asked me.

I shrugged. “I’m not sure. Lokobe Park, I think?” It’s the top attraction in Nosy Be, according to Trip Advisor, which meant we could expect an adventure.

Our guide, Achim, picked us and Kimi up at the yacht club, and we headed off to the other side of the island. The road was mostly unpaved, and our big van bumped along, passing men and zebu plowing fields together, and ylang-ylang trees bowing down in vast groves.

In Ambatozavary, a small village, Achim changed out our driver for one of the men from the village, a local guide named Joe. It seemed as though the whole village was there, and everyone walked down to the beach, through the mangroves and mud, to where outrigger canoes were anchored. The local school children stripped down, swam out and brought in the boats.

Joe and Achim instructed us—the only tourists—to climb into a canoe, and Achim handed us a paddle. We set off before the other boats were loaded.

After 20 minutes, I asked Achim, “How far are we paddling?”

He pointed vaguely out over the horizon. “Across the channel.” The next island was more than 10 miles away, and I was glad I’d kept up a workout routine while sailing.

We took turns paddling, but Joe and Achim were our ringers, rowing strongly and steering us around the reefs. Before long, boats started to fly by; not just the outrigger canoes we’d left behind, but also small powerboats with tourists. Some even towed canoes behind them.

To our relief, our guides steered our canoe to the beach after about 45 minutes—our destination was not the distant island. We disembarked and set about exploring the Lokobe National Park. Joe led us on a walk through the forest, where we spotted tree boas, leaf-tailed geckos and more lemurs. These lemurs were feeding on jackfruit, sticking their heads into the insides of the fruit from beneath and feasting.

When we returned, lunch—a variety of Malagasy dishes—was prepared: green mango salad, crab curry, and bananas cooked in coconut milk. When the meal was over, we were given time to wander through nearby handicraft stalls selling ylang-ylang oil, carved wooden lemurs and traditional woven linens. Then it was back to the outrigger for our paddle back.

To finish our day, we took the easy walk to the top of Mont Passot and watched the sun set over the crater lakes. Sunsets in Madagascar were exceptionally beautiful. The air quality was clear, and we could see mountains 50 miles away as the sun turned a deep red and dropped behind the islands.

Many Stars

We had one last adventure in store for us in Nosy Be. With our other cruising friends Carlos and Linda, we hired a dive shop to take us out to look for whale sharks. David and I have tried, unsuccessfully, to swim with them for years in various places around the world, and this time, we were exceptionally lucky. Our captain pointed the motorized outrigger toward open water, and a young boy climbed up on the bow to spot. The boy scanned the surface of the water looking for schools of jumping tuna. Whale sharks don’t eat tuna, but the tuna feed on smaller fish, which, in turn, feed on plankton. Where you find leaping tuna chasing their food, you’ll find whale sharks too, basking and sweeping up the plankton in their wide mouths.

We spotted the first school of tuna and approached. A whale shark was just below the surface of the water, and with the crystal-clear view, we could see his constellation-riddled hide. After all, the Malagasy name for whale sharks is marokintana, which translates to “many stars.”

“Go,” our guide said quietly, and we slipped into the water less elegantly than we’d have liked. The shark floated diagonally, its mouth on the surface while surrounded by beams of sunlight. It tolerated a few moments of our attention but then moved on.

Our guides had a tough job trying to predict where the whale sharks would be found. They tried to drop us in the water where we wouldn’t disturb the fish too much, but also near where they expected the whale shark to swim in order to maximize our time with each one. By the end of the day, we’d been in and out of the water dozens of times, and some whale sharks approached close to inspect us, while others veered off quickly. We were euphoric, having finally taken that amazing swim we’d dreamed of for years.

Sailing On

Our time in Nosy Be had come to an end. We had an ambitious few months ahead of us: crossing the Mozambique Channel and sailing around South Africa. As do most cruisers, we made our way down the west coast of the big island, ducking into protected waters and making progress toward the narrowest part of the Mozambique Channel.

The sailing was an exercise in frustration. The morning wind was light and from forward of the beam. It died midday, then picked back up again from the opposite direction.

When we arrived in Honey River, only our friends Carlos and Linda were there, but as the day progressed, the charter boats filed in. Still, there was plenty of room for everyone.

A small village sits on the north shore, and it was possible to buy the namesake honey there. I went ashore with Linda, who speaks French—a good thing because the locals didn’t speak English. At one shop, we agreed to the price, and the woman started to fill our jars with honey from a jerry can. Around her sat a collection of 1.4-liter plastic bottles of honey, which I belatedly realized were a better price. But our deal had been struck.

She poured the sweet liquid into my jar through a sieve, and when it was full, she lifted the sieve and licked the drop of honey off the bottom before placing it in a bin. There were certainly no health inspectors around!

Linda and I visited the library and donated school supplies. The kids swarmed around us. They are used to cruisers and charter guests popping in with gifts, and they have learned to be persistent. They asked for books, candies, even the hats and sunglasses off our heads, and we eventually had to shoo them away. Honey bought, donations made and village explored, we returned to our boats.

Our next stop, with Carlos and Linda following, was the beautiful island of Antanimora. This is typically the last stop for charters, and for some reason, when we arrived in the afternoon, the vacationers were all anchored on the north side of the little sand spit that stretches out at low tide. The wind blows from the north later in the day, so they were experiencing a rigorous chop. We ducked under the south side of the spit, and even when the wind shifted in the morning, the anchorage wasn’t too bad.

After breakfast, Linda and I set off on a girls-only adventure. The island has a prominent hill, and, we thought, surely there would be a trail. We walked through the village, Linda asking in French about a path up it. The Malagasy people looked at us as though we were crazy. Finally, we met an older gentleman, who beckoned to us to follow him. We were joined by two younger men, who introduced themselves as the crew of one of the fishing boats. Their English was excellent, and our local guide’s English was good enough for me as he led us up a beaten path, pointing out medicinal plants and an ancient burial site.

After 90 minutes, slipping and sliding on the tall grass, we made it to the top. Below us stretched the whole island: the sand spit pointing straight out, and our two boats bobbing in the anchorage to our right. I pulled out my phone, and the five of us made a short video, in which our guide enthusiastically whooped and hollered for our achievement.

Back at the dinghy, he graciously asked for a tip, which we gave him, and then he explained that the village needed medicine, especially for digestion troubles. I had some over-the-counter pills in my small first-aid kit, and he was thankful when I pressed them into his hands.

Off to See the Giants

We departed the next morning for our last big stop in Madagascar. We sadly said goodbye to Carlos and Linda, and spent two days sailing to Moramba Bay, a popular cruiser hangout. The river had a narrow entrance that feeds into a big natural harbor, wide enough to fit a dozen boats, but mostly we had it to ourselves.

Throughout the day, several dugout canoes approached us, offering to trade limes and bananas for milk, clothes or medicine. But the draw to Moramba Bay for sailors is access to another famous Malagasy resident: the baobab tree. From our boat we could already see dozens. Following our friends’ directions, we drove our dinghy as close to shore as we could, anchored, and slogged through the calf-high water and mud to the beach, where we followed trails and found ourselves standing among the giants. The baobabs are distinctive, with their wide trunks devoid of branches for hundreds of feet before a cluster of foliage at the top.

We stayed for days, and when we departed Moramba Bay, it was with trepidation of the many trials that lay ahead. South of us, there were few protected anchorages, and then the treacherous Mozambique Channel. And behind us, we were leaving a country so different from our own, but one filled with opportunities we would have never found elsewhere.

Chartering in Madagascar

Chartering in Madagascar is a tiny industry, but exploring Nosy Be on a charter boat can be greatly rewarding. There are a limited number of boats in the charter market, meaning guests can find themselves completely alone if they desire.

The charter companies are based out of the Yacht Club De Nosy Be in Crater Bay. The marina is the only place to plug into electricity and top up water tanks. Provisioning from Crater Bay is best at Leader Price, a 30-minute drive from the marina, though local fruits and vegetables are freshest at the roadside stalls or in Hell-Ville at the market.

The peak time to charter is winter—May through October—when the temperature is cooler and the weather more consistent. The summer is monsoon season, and rainstorms become more frequent while the temperature peaks. Cyclones are active from December to March.

Various itineraries are available, from four to 14 days. Anchoring is easy, and winds are often light, making for comfortable, lazy sailing. The four-day itinerary covers the nearby Mitisio Islands, just north of Nosy Be. Longer itineraries include much of our route sailing south down the coast.

The spectacular wildlife, above and below the water, plus the friendly people and stunning geography will make a charter in Madagascar the memory of a lifetime.

Charter companies operating in Nosy Be include:

Dream Yacht Charters (dreamyachtcharters.com)

East Africa Yacht Charters (eastafricayachtcharters.com)

Madavoile (madavoile.com)

Ulysse Explorer (ulyssexplorer.com)

Amy Alton and her husband, David, finished their circumnavigation in March 2020. Her stories of adventure and advice are available at outchasingstars.com.

The post The Magic of Cruising Madagascar appeared first on Cruising World.