The most notable upgrade that my husband, Chris, and I have done aboard our 41-foot, 1979 Cheoy Lee, Avocet, since we bought her in 2018 is replacing her toe rail with a bulwark. This project changed not only the aesthetic of our boat’s design, but also the physical construct, making her deck and hull stronger than ever. 

A conversion like this one includes many technical layers that combine naval design, carpentry, metalwork and a whole lot of patience. For starters, our research revealed that there is a lot of confusion about what defines a toe rail and a bulwark. After some internet deep dives, and discussions with boatwrights and naval architects, we concluded that a toe rail is a piece of wood, aluminum or fiberglass that usually does not exceed more than 3 inches tall and that is bolted, every few inches, through the deck. Anything bigger (which typically is bolted to the stanchions) is called a bulwark.

Sailor and author John Kretschmer notes that when choosing an offshore cruising boat, it’s best to consider a vessel with a “deck-to-hull joint that does not rely on bolts, screws, rivets, or adhesive for strength or watertightness.” He notes that the idea is to eliminate potential leaks. 

With all of this in mind, we explored how we could implement a strong bulwark and increase Avocet’s bluewater standard. Avocet’s teak toe rail was (at one point) structural, connecting the deck-to-hull joint with through bolts every 6 inches. Over time, the bolts corroded because of dissimilar metals, leaving numerous voids where water leaked through, creating a mess of problems belowdecks. To repair this damage, we had to remove the toe rail and then decide how to proceed with a replacement.

Choosing the bulwark option let us glass a seamless deck-to-hull joint that would reinforce the interior glass, as well as reconcile the damage, further eliminating the need to rebolt. Our deck-to-hull joint was not initially glassed externally because the process is labor-intensive and expensive. Avocet’s era of boats were primarily built economically, in Hong Kong and Taiwan, and the quicker approach is to construct a toe rail and bolt it. This solution is fine as long as the hardware is not corroding.

For three months, Chris and I spent hours glassing, designing, fabricating and constructing our bulwark, which incorporated many design aspects influenced by the Bristol Channel Cutter. The bulwark bases were 316 stainless L brackets that we recessed into the deck so that they would sit flush below the stanchions. Each bracket was a unique bend measurement to anticipate the curve of Avocet’s hull, allowing the wood to conform and naturally continue the angle of the hull above the deck.

Next, we began to work on the wood that would be mounted to the brackets. We wanted to use teak at first, but our wallets did not agree, so we researched rot-resistant hardwoods such as white oak, purpleheart, black acacia and mahogany. A contractor pointed us toward cumaru, also known as Brazilian teak. 

Chris spent days prior to the wood’s arrival studying various scarf joints to choose the best method to join the three sections of wood together into a single 42-foot board. He settled on a mechanically fastened plated scarf joint that would be 32 inches long. Chris used an accurate combo square, circular saw, Japanese handsaw, sharp chisels, assorted drill bits, 316 stainless hardware, and marine glue to construct the bulwark plank.

Sixty-four stainless-steel fasteners later, we had bulwarks. The wood added a hint of timeless design to Avocet, in a nod to our favorite classic yacht designers. 

The final pieces to be installed were the hawseholes to replace our fairleads, which we felt did not do the overall hull design justice. Our cast-bronze hawseholes completed the design.

When the project was complete, we broke free of our dock lines and made a mad dash to the Channel Islands so that we could enjoy our boat the way she was intended. Water splashed the deck, washing overboard immediately under the bulwark through the slim gap. It was perfect. The height of the bulwark made it easy to stow jerry cans, fenders, lines and even the dinghy without clutter.

This conversion was a long process, but we are pleased with the outcome. As Kretschmer writes: “No other man-made object blends design, craftsmanship, passion and pure optimism the way a sailboat does. With a good sailboat, anything is possible.”

For more details on our bulwark conversion, visit our website, svavocet.com, or check out our YouTube channel, Sailing Avocet.

The post How We Built Our Own Bulwarks appeared first on Cruising World.

I was waiting for my husband, Steve, to fly back to the Philippines, where I was overseeing a few boat projects. All that was left was to tidy up some details and slap on a few coats of antifouling. We were a couple of weeks away from relaunching Kate, our Newport 41, when something very unexpected happened. The world went into lockdown in an ­attempt to control a pandemic.

With international flights grounded, land transportation stopped and all ­marine traffic prohibited, I suddenly found myself stranded in a foreign ­country. Not only that, I was high and dry and all alone in a boatyard. No ­husband, no other cruisers, and only a skeleton staff charged with keeping an eye on things at the yard.

I will admit that the first few weeks were a little overwhelming. With so many unknowns, it was hard to plan, let alone think straight. As the weeks turned into months, I remembered all the lessons that sailing had taught me over the years—most ­important, that even the worst storms eventually ease, and conditions always improve. So I got on with the job of making life on the hard a little easier. Here are a few tips from our (very) extended haul out.

Safety First: Getting on and off a vessel up on jack stands or in a cradle is awkward at best, and sometimes downright dangerous. Make sure the ladder or scaffolding is properly assembled, in good condition and secured in place

Know Your Limits: I love challenging myself, but I also know that I can’t do everything. Whether it’s hiring a pro to do a job that is beyond your skills or making sure you take a rest day, it’s important to know and respect your personal limits. Remember, knowing when to stop is not the same as quitting.

Plan Ahead: Have the supplies to ­complete all the jobs on the list, enough food to keep the crew fed, and a contingency plan for when things don’t work out quite the way you expected. Plan a yard period like you would a long passage: ­meticulously but with a fair amount of wiggle room. Make sure to budget a little extra time and money, just in case.

Make Yourself Comfortable: Time in the boatyard is always hot, dirty and chaotic. Making sure you have a few modern conveniences means you’ll be just a little bit more comfortable. Everyone’s comfort threshold is different, but even the basics of a usable sink on board and access to a clean bathroom ashore will make the days a little easier. If there are major interior projects being done, consider arranging for accommodations ashore so you don’t have to live in and around the mess.

Keep Calm and Sail On: When it comes to boatyards, problems and delays are inevitable. Some situations are definitely more challenging than others—believe me, I know. However, getting overly angry or upset when things go wrong won’t make the troubles go away; it will just leave you feeling miserable. Take a deep breath, stay calm, and find the rational solution to the problem.

Daily Detox: It is important to take a few minutes every day to shift your focus and regroup, whether it be savoring a quiet coffee before digging in to the job list, going for a jog after a hard day’s work or turning off social media for an hour in the evening. Taking care of your mental health is especially important during trying times.

The post Tips for Making Boatyard Life Better appeared first on Cruising World.

The tyranny of the sock has returned to our crew. We have road tripped from Mexico back to the Pacific Northwest, and it is cold! Family pulled us back; we’ll spend most of the month of November back on Bainbridge Island with my father. Our travels were unfettered, and border crossing easy. We had over a thousand road miles to contemplate this freedom, as border crossing is complicated by COVID in so much of the world.

Getting into the USA

During October, we drove north to Phoenix twice from where Totem is hauled at the Cabrales Boatyard in Puerto Peñasco. Clearance (for US passport holders) is a breeze; never more than a few minutes wait at the Sonoyta/Lukeville border. CPB checks passports, has a couple of questions about our home and our plans, then waves us through.

What about boats: can they get in as easily? Not a single boat we know of has been turned away. Officially, boats arriving from specific COVID hotspots and Schengen (most EU) countries are barred from arrival. But that’s arriving from those countries, vs vessel flagged / crew being nationals of those countries. But homework is required for non-US-flagged boats, because some ports (e.g., Miami) have reportedly not issued cruising permits. US border restrictions are not uniformly applied on land or sea.

Getting back to Mexico

Driving over the border is even simpler. This corner of Sonora where Totem is parked is a tourist zone, so unless we get the unlucky red light at the border—meaning, pull over for a customs inspection—we drive right through with a wave to the official. No passport checks. No questions. Nothing. ¡Bienvenido a México! Will it be as easy later in November, when we return? One hopes. As a precaution, we have the port captain’s clearance and Totem’s vessel documentation; I don’t think we’ll need it.

For boats, Mexico has never closed to cruising arrivals at any time during the pandemic. Repeat: Mexico has never closed to arriving boats during the pandemic. For some reason, there is misconception swirling around this—at least three people in the last few weeks expressed their perception that boats could not enter Mexico. WRONG, and not just now, but at any time so far this year.

On the road

The road trip was a rush north in some ways: the raisons d’être for our visit is to be with my dad for surgery, and spend time with him. When the date was moved up, so was our travel timeline. The procedure is minor, but what’s minor when you’re 85? The time with him is because we can: in the current pandemic environment, I don’t feel comfortable flying. Not for my father (who would love to return to visit us in La Cruz again), not for us.

For our teen daughters, it’s first time they’ve traveled to spend time in the States since… I have to think about it, for a minute. While Jamie and I have had a few trips, it’s been about two years for them. Culture shock is real. “Everyone is going so fast!” Well, our life is definitely one of slow travel and slow mode. Our reverse culture shock sinks in, tempered by rolling landscape, spiked with occasional hostility—like the gas station attendant in Oregon telling a coworker who upset a customer she “should have coughed on them.” We found another gas station.

COVID-era road tripping

Safety: check. My dad’s age and health mean we have to be careful not to bring a virus to his doorstep. Forced by our return to civilization in Peñasco to think through precautions and risk mitigation, we had a good warmup for traveling. In the car with a duffle of clothes and tote bags of gear was a trug for tools of the COVID trip: gloves, KN95 masks, hand sanitizer, alcohol spray, wipes.

Food: check. We anticipated avoiding restaurants. Just enough snacks (trail mix in bulk, wasabi peas). Water bottles. A bag of apples and loaves of sliced bread with jars of jam and peanut butter would make meals on the go. Except… I forgot a utensil for the spreads. FAIL! Lunch on day one was Cheetos and apples instead, but the kind of in appropriate treat to appreciate? And then there was the irresistible (for me) lure of In-n-Out burger’s drive-thru…

Entertainment: check. Mairen and Siobhan were in charge of the mixtape and podcasts. We sank into the gory history of royals in Noble Blood, paired that with a musical about Henry VIII’s wives, and listened to a bare minimum of news while the scenery rolled by.

Nature’s call: check. This is a tad more complicated for our women passengers, so to the horror (but function) of our daughters I bought a “urinary device for women” called pStyle for easy, standing relief. Recommended by a friend… and a winner. I’m entirely uninterested in braving public restrooms right now.

Friends and touring

As soon as plans to road trip north were made, Jamie and I saw this as an opportunity to visit our mentor. Jim Jessie lives aboard in Alameda, CA, and we haven’t seen Jimmy since he and his late wife Diana visited Totem in Zihuatenejo…more than TEN years ago. Much too long! Jamie first met them aboard their Lapworth 48 Nalu IV on the docks of Dubrovnik, then Yugoslavia, in 1986…the beginning of a long friendship. Their invaluable support and guidance inspire the coaching work we do today.

I grew up in a few localities, but San Francisco and the northern California landscape are cemented as my homeplace. The girls don’t remember much from when we passed through on Totem in 2008; this was a priceless opportunity to share some history. After bidding farewell to Jim, we came over the Bay Bridge (whoa, it’s DIFFERENT now!) into the city. Admiring the skyline and bay views on our way to Yerba Buena island, I began my family brainwashing program: “this is the most beautiful city in the world!” Winding through neighborhoods, down Lombard’s hairpin curves, around the corner at the bottom to drive by my childhood home on Chestnut Street. I wanted to ring the doorbell, but it wasn’t the time, and not just because of the tears in my eyes! I had countless flashes of nostalgia: where I went to my first movie, a childhood friend’s home, streets and neighborhoods that color the quilt of my early life.

My only regret was that we couldn’t spend more time, to check in and find a way to connect with old friends. Fortunate to intersect with a few. Possibly on the way south? Our plans are indefinite.

Such are COVID era plans: indefinite. Our border crossings were simple, and this seems likely to continue between the USA and Mexico. Our goal to return to the South Pacific remains, but for 2021… it’s indefinite. French Polynesia remains accessible to boats, and Fiji has opened, but… then what?

Australia and New Zealand shut their doors hard. Heading to Hawaii for hurricane season is an option, but an unattractive one to us. Plenty can change between now and the optimal window to depart next spring, but with cases in French Poly taking off again and winter virus trends more likely to be worse instead of better (this from your resident optimist), we think the South Pac is off the menu for next year.

NEXT WEEKEND

Join us for TOTEM TALKS: the Shipyard Checklist. Next Saturday’s livestream talks about what we’re doing… and not, and how to avoid hardstand heartache! 10am Pacific / 1pm Eastern; Register here.

NOVEMBER 15

Behan presents the Women’s Sailing Seminar keynote, on the last of three days of classes and interactive sessions; there’s something for every level of sailing experience. Join the full event (Nov 13-15)!  Details here.

The post Sailing Totem: Where Border Crossing is Easy appeared first on Cruising World.

Leaving Puerto Peñasco’s harbor in our wake last December, I really expected it would be years—many years!—before we returned. But, 2020! Now we’re preparing to haul out at Cabrales Boatyard again. The hurricane-safe location offers us a chance to work on some minor projects for a couple of weeks, while readily accessing goods from the USA. Besides, yard manager Salvador and his wife Lara have a new baby girl that I want to meet! From a safe physical distance, of course (oh, that’s going to be hard! Not much beats fresh baby snuggles).

Meanwhile, other boats around us have started talking about plans to haul out there also. Some are ready for a break on land. Others have work that’s easier and more affordable to do at Cabrales compared to further south in Mexico. This is our third time hauling at Cabrales and sixth time hauling Totem, which leaves us with notes to share.

Local conditions

One of the reasons we like going up to Puerto Peñasco is—no hurricanes! There are gales though. Either way, know what harsh conditions affect the area and prepare as if they are certain to come. Whether big winds and reducing windage and perhaps extra jackstands makes sense. Big rain and you should make sure your cockpit scupper can’t clog. Or freezing temps – which are so far from Puerto Peñasco we’re not going to touch here!

Preparing the Engine

Initial engine preparation can be done while you’re still in the water, then a freshwater flush is all that’s left once you’re on the hardstand.

• Engine service: Check engine manufacturer service intervals. Is it at or near hours for a bigger service job? It’s nice to go back in the water with the engine in top condition.
  
• Basic maintenance: Unless recently changed, it’s best to replace consumables: engine oil, oil filter, transmission oil, impeller, alternator belt (if any wear), and fuel filters. Flush and replace the coolant, too.
  
• Fresh water flush: Seawater cooling system is very corrosive. Flushing with fresh water is easy is good for longevity.
  
• Remove the raw water hose from the seacock, then put into a 5-gallon bucket filled with fresh water.  Have a land supplied water hose led to the bucket and ready to turn on.
  
• Start the engine and turn on hose, adjusting the flow rate to keep the bucket nearly full.
  
• Run for 5 to 10 minutes. When nearing completion, add a gallon of white vinegar to the bucket and turn off the hose; let this vinegar solution get pulled into the engine. Acetic acid in the vinegar dissolves some accumulated minerals inside.
  
• Make sure the engine goes off BEFORE the bucket empties!
  

Lightening the Load

Totem has 605 square feet of bottom and weighs in around 38,000 lbs. That’s a lot of mass taken almost entirely by the keel, balanced by jack stands. Emptying tanks and offloading anchor gear provides nearly 10% weight savings.

• Diesel tanks: Some favor full tanks for storing; less room for moisture that can enable diesel bug growth. We prefer to treat diesel with biocide (we’ve used BioborJF) and run the fuel down in the tank for less weight aboard. Diesel weighs about 7 lbs/gallon; big tanks mean big weight on the hull. One scenario when weight is a benefit is catamarans hauled out in high hurricane-risk areas.
  
• Water tanks: If not living aboard, then empty water tanks (excepting catamarans as above). When near empty add vinegar to the tank and run through fresh water system, including hot water tank to prevent growth.
  
• Holding tanks: Empty! Flush toilets with a water and white vinegar mix to prevent the swamp monster from eating your boat.
  
• Anchors and chain: We offload these high mass items to a pallet below Totem. She sighs when 450′ of chain and three anchors reach the ground.
  

Sails and Rigging

• Sails: If you’ll be away for an extended period, sails should come down for storage in a dry place out of the elements. Less sun and wind exposure equals longer life. For shorter periods, it’s more of a judgement call based on the risk of high winds or rodents/birds taking up residence.
  
• Standing rigging: Ease rig tension.
  
• Wash turnbuckles with fresh water
  
• Mark threads so you know how to tune
  
• Remove cotter pins and back off tension until at slight-tension (not sloppy), then put cotter pins in place
  
• Shut down the boom motel: birds love to live inside the boom. Stuff rags in the ends to prevent.
  

Preparing the Exterior

Puerto Peñasco is dusty! When the wind is up, fine dust reaches winch innards, sheave pins and other moving parts that don’t benefit from grit. Boats left for long-term storage can be shrink-wrapped to help protect them from the sand that blows in.

A common cover technique is aluminum foil wrap. In hot dry places like Puerto Peñasco the foil bonded to what it covered. Now we start with a wrap in thin cloth, then foil, and finish with duct tape to ensure it stays in place.

• Deck hardware: Start with a good deck wash to remove salt and dirt. Then cover moving parts: winches, clutches, blocks, and plastic hardware. Cover as much as possible for dirt and UV protection.
  
• Outside electronics: Cover! Including GPS and other more easily accessible antennas.
  
• Wind turbine: secure the blade from spinning and cover the unit to protect from dirt and UV.
  
• Rudder: rudders are a sealed piece, and when stored in a hot environment, the interior may expand to the extent that it causes damage—cracks that can lead to water intrusion. We don’t see these protected often, but it’s a good idea (see wrap on Kenta Anae, below).
  
• Everything else: In high-risk hurricane areas, assess every piece of hardware and every item affixed to the boat in terms of possible windage and consider removing them.

Power/ Electrical System

When we were in Malaysia a boat down the dock had a neighbor minding it while the owner was away for months. One day she asked for help dealing with a strong odor: Jamie cracked the sliding doors and nearly got smoked out. The batteries had boiled off their water, were super-hot and bulging. After carefully venting hydrogen sulfide gas from the cabin, he disconnected the batteries. A potential disaster, averted.

• Shore power: If not living aboard, we disconnect shore power that could have a power loss or spike that upsets onboard systems.
  
• Boat batteries: Our solar panels keep the batteries topped up. We have AGM batteries (for now) that don’t require water or other maintenance. Do know your batteries’ maintenance needs? Arrange with the boatyard or a cruiser to manage in your absence if required.
  
• Other batteries: The myriad of electronics we own often have batteries that may be best stored in a cooler environment. Lithium batteries don’t love high heat, and a closed-up boat in Mexican summer can exceed 160F, which may cause damage. Remove batteries from devices and store in a cooler spot if possible, and expect to replace.
  

Preparing the Interior

Puerto Peñasco is very dry during summer months. When Totem was going to be closed up tight during a three-month absence in 2018, we added about 10 gallons of fresh water into the bilge (with a cup of white vinegar to prevent growth). We were concerned that the dryness would shrink cabin sole planks and other wood parts. We worried the water would make it humid enough to cause other issues, but we tried anyway. On return we found most water evaporated, the wood fine, and no mildew problem.

• Leave the interior clean. Returning to a dirty boat is no fun!
  
• Wiping all surfaces with a vinegar/water solution from a spray bottle (or straight vinegar on a rag) kills the mold spores you don’t see yet to prevent them from blooming in your absence.
  
• Fine sand and dust that can cover the deck hardware, may get inside—even in closed-up boats. Consider covering harder-to-clean items like books and settee cushions with sheets.
  
• We left clothes in lockers and aired them out on return. Others swear by packing them in plastic bags, but be certain they are 100% bone dry first. An old school suggestion is to throw a dryer sheet in the bags but I find them toxic with a “fragrance” that makes me sneeze!
  
• Just before leaving the boat, we open all lockers and bilge access covers to improve air circulation.

Preventing Vermin

Cockroaches and rats love boatyards! We’ve gotten a rat in nearly every boatyard except Cabrales.  Start by assuming their presence and take action to avoid some of the rat stories that are to icky to include here.

• Access: we don’t have an airtight boat (solar powered dorades fans keep turning!), and don’t want to—that doesn’t mean there’s a welcome mat out.
  
• Ports, hatches, and companionway are closed up.
  
• Bronze wool (steel wool rusts) or sponges block vents and through-hulls that may enable a pathway in otherwise.
  
• Rats are amazing climbers. Prior to leaving get rid of the ladder; and an inverted funnel around a power cord will dissuade any climbers (they may laugh at this attempt!).
  

• Temptations: bugs and rodents have a single focus: food. Remove perishables and as best you can, non-perishables (see below), so as not to lure any critters to come aboard or linger.
  
• Deterrent measures: we put cockroach bait/poison in places they are likely to lurk. In Mexico, I buy a boric acid paste and smear it in suspect areas (caution if there are young kids or pets aboard). Sprinkling straight-up boric acid powder can do the same; best mixed with something to sweeten it to bug-yummy goodness (powdered sugar to stay powdery, sweetened condensed milk if you’d like a paste).
  

Heat Mitigation

We’ve recorded deck temperatures at 160°F! Below deck, the boat is literally an oven.

• Deck covers: Shading makes a big difference, but keep weather conditions in mind. High UV degrades plastic tarps in a couple months; and a wind event can flog them to shreds. We bought rolls of inexpensive UV shade material, with 80% sunblock to shade and allow airflow. Secure low and tight over lifelines and supporting lines like a “ridgepole” between mast and the bow.
  
• Ventilation: Stagnant air makes it hotter below and more likely enable mildew and mold growth. Some boats are tighter than others and may need dessicating agents like Damp-Rid inside, even in the dry heat. Totem’s solar vents keep turning over air and help prevent mildew below.
  
• Air conditioning: In extreme heat, consider installing a household air conditioner in a hatch or the companionway, and plugged in to a land-based power source. When we did this in Peñasco, it didn’t make it cozy and cool below, but it did take the edge off extreme heat.
  

Packing Out

• Remove all foodstuff: Almost. Perishables of course—but even most non-perishables. First, because ANY food is a lure for vermin. Second, because enclosed conditions below can be tough on even long-life goods. In Peñasco’s extreme summertime heat canned food could explode, then rot until cleaned week (months?) later.
  
• Packaged foods can be stored a larger sealed container or tub. I’d go as far as taping seams on a heavy-duty tub with a gasketed lid.
  
• Close propane tank valves.
  
• Gas in jerry cans doesn’t store well and is hazardous. Consider giving it to launching cruiser or local for the karma win!
  

Preparing for In-water vs. Hauling

The focus here is dry storage (and warm locations), but storing a boat in-water is sometimes a preferable option. In areas of extreme heat, remaining in-water is gentler on the boat than hot, hot air. In the summer of 2009, we stored Totem for about three months at a berth in San Carlos, Mexico. On the mainland side of Mexico, this area remains prone to hurricane risk.

Our preparations to keep Totem safe in-water were twofold:

• Reducing windage: sails off and below, along with just about everything not permanently attached to the deck (including our kayak)
  
• Securing well: we macraméd Kenta to the dock structure

Remnants of Hurricane Jimena passed over the area with some bluster and epic rainfall, but Totem did perfectly fine in her slip. Ironically, a number of boats on shore were washed off jackstands due to flooding.

The post Preparing a Boat For Haul Out appeared first on Cruising World.

When my husband, Ken, and I sailed up Guatemala’s Rio Dulce, we never dreamed that our Morgan 38, Mary T, would reside there so long in our absence. Twenty miles inland, at the head of the river, the town of Fronteras (also known as Rio Dulce) is one of the finest hurricane holes in the Caribbean. It’s beautiful, inexpensive, the people are nice, and you can get almost every kind of boat work completed there. It’s one of those “stuck places,” where many cruisers end their sailing days. That, however, was not our plan.

Our plan was to leave the boat for the hurricane season, go back to the States for a visit, and return in October. What do they say about boats and schedules? That they’re mutually exclusive? October rolled around, and family needs trumped sailing.

We kept in touch with the marina in Rio Dulce via email and were assured that all was well with Mary T. The employees were airing her out on a regular basis, keeping her hull and decks clean, and they varnished the brightwork and cabin sole as requested.

The following summer—now a year after we had left the boat in Guatemala—we were able to return. We thought that if weather permitted and the boat was in good shape, we’d sail her back to Florida. The boat was in decent shape, and the varnish work was nicely done. And we encountered only fairly minor problems: All the lines were filthy and stiff, the chart plotter was fried, and everything that was made of rubber, including parts of the dinghy, were disintegrating. Zippers, tools, and most things made of metal were rusty or corroded.

A medical setback meant we had only five weeks to get the boat ready, provision, do a little shakedown sail, and hope for a good weather window to Florida—a tight schedule, to be sure. The daily torrential thunderstorms were not particularly encouraging.

Given all of these factors, we decided it was too tight and would be more prudent to leave the boat again and return to Guatemala at a later date.

Not knowing exactly when our next opportunity to return would come, we should have been more thoughtful about our next moves. We did a few things right. We ­purchased a giant piece of an old vinyl billboard sign, cut it to size, and punched grommets in it to create a tarp to shelter the boat from the blistering sun. It’s a popular method in Rio Dulce and quite a bit cheaper than hiring a professional to fabricate a canvas cover. We also hoisted up sacrificial lines to protect our halyards from the elements, and took the batteries out of small electronic devices and flashlights.

Everything else we did, however, was wrong. Here are some of our lessons learned:

Mistake No. 1: Keeping all seacocks open

We asked the marina owner if we should close the seacocks. We thought if his people were cleaning the boat and running water, they might like the seacocks open. He said no problem, we could leave them open. Huge mistake. A year and a half after we’d left the boat, we received an email that on Christmas Day, Mary T had taken on nearly a foot of water above the floorboards because a plastic fitting in the head had broken.

Water came rushing in through the open seacock, and the bilge pump and high-water alarm quit working because the ­batteries had died. Fortunately, somebody noticed, and the marina employees pumped out the water before it could get any worse.

If you do plan to close the seacocks before leaving, consider keeping the one for the engine open in case the boat needs to be moved in an emergency, or ensure that the caretaker knows where the valve is located.

Mistake No. 2: Not monitoring the batteries

Since we weren’t leaving anything power-hungry on, Ken and I had thought that the solar panels would be sufficient to keep the batteries charged, so we didn’t connect to shore power. Had we been connected, the bilge pump would’ve continued pumping, and the flood would’ve been averted (although, admittedly, this wouldn’t have solved the reason for the flood in the first place).

Mistake No. 3: Not being specific with the marina staff

After the flood, we requested Mary T be towed to another marina that had a travel lift and be put on the hard until our return. At least then we wouldn’t need to worry about sinking. This all went well, and photos revealed that the boat was blocked as we requested. It hadn’t occurred to us to tell the new marina to stow the fenders and dock lines, which were thrown willy-nilly on the deck or remained hanging off the sides. Most of them were ruined, and the rubber from some of the fenders melted onto the deck and hull.

Mistake No. 4: Leaving food aboard

Leaving food aboard was another mistake we made. Canned goods, rice, pasta, spices and other items I considered to have a long shelf life were left in plastic containers or zipper bags. I didn’t really think it would be a problem—or if it was, I assumed the marina employees would remove it (see Mistake No. 3). Those were both incorrect assumptions.

Upon our return, two-and-a-half years later, we discovered a thriving community of cockroaches aboard. Their droppings and eggs were everywhere. Given more time, Ken said, they probably would’ve sailed the boat away. The eradication of the cucarachas required professional intervention. I watched the exterminator closely as he placed little piles of boric acid mixed with sugar in strategic places throughout the boat.

He explained that roaches like the dark and travel along the edges of spaces, so placing the deadly but tasty bait in the corners of cupboards, near hinges and along the ledges of storage spaces was the hot ticket. It worked like a charm. I continue to use this method when we see the occasional baby roach. It’s a nontoxic intervention, so you don’t need to vacate the boat or worry about touching it.

Once back in Guatemala, I cleaned every square inch of Mary T like a woman possessed, determined to eliminate every last bit of roach evidence. On a positive note, we’ve done a complete inventory, and the boat has never been so clean. You can now eat off the floor of our rope locker, and we’ve learned from our mistakes.

Thoughts for next time

If we ever leave our boat again for an extended period, we will be sure to close the seacocks and remove all food. Most important, we would go over the boat with a caretaker and create a detailed list of expectations with a schedule for cleaning, monitoring shore power and battery health, inspecting the bilge and bilge pump, and closely examining for insect infestations.

We’d request the engine be started twice a month. Our alternator belt had ­deteriorated onto the pulleys, and the engine’s raw-water impeller was deformed because no one ran the engine. If we left Mary T on the hard, we would flake out the anchor chain. The last 70 feet of our chain congealed into a rusty ball, and the bottom of the chain locker was loaded with rust flakes.

I would inquire monthly via email as to the overall health of the vessel. If any unforeseen events arose, requiring specific action, I would give as much detailed instructions as possible. I would not assume anything. That was our biggest mistake. It was foolish to think the marina would intuit what we wanted and do whatever was required.

When we first came back and the boat was on the hard—filthy and in shambles—I’d find myself standing in the middle of the saloon looking at the mess, feeling overwhelmed. The next moment, I’d shove my head in a galley cupboard or storage locker and vacuum up cucaracha poop while cursing to the heavens. After working myself into a snit, I’d take a deep breath, step back and remind myself that I am one of the luckiest people in the world; I am in a beautiful, exotic land enjoying the privilege of owning a boat.

Renting an apartment near the marina during the initial weeks back in Guatemala made our return much easier. Being able to take breaks away from the chaos and the toxic dust of the boatyard made the whole process more tolerable. Even after the boat was splashed, we stayed in the apartment until the messy jobs were finished.

Now that all the major work has been completed, much of it by skilled locals, we’re comfortably living aboard again. But without a cleaning project, I hardly know what to do with myself. Oh yeah, now I remember: Let’s go sailing! Where to next?

Amy Flannery and her husband, Ken Kurlychek, are living aboard their Morgan 38, Mary T, in the Western Caribbean.

The post Lessons Learned from Leaving the Boat appeared first on Cruising World.

127 days of living on the hard are finally in the rear-view mirror. Totem baked in the Sonora desert sun for more than four months of refit projects. Our boat is capable, but time and miles meant meaningful work was due.

Life on the hard is, well, hard. We shift from the natural state of life afloat, managing our utilities in connection with the world around us, to being propped on toothpicks with new limitations around everyday basics like use of the toilets and water on board. We trade interludes of daily maintenance for long days of hard labor. Local environment added a challenging layer, from daytime temperatures mostly in triple digits when we arrived in August to the routine overnight dips into the 40s when we sailed away on December 18.

We headed to Puerto Peñasco to undertake this Pacific passage prep for sensible reasons. The town’s location at the far north of the Sea of Cortez makes Cabrales boatyard the only really hurricane-safe working yard in the region. It’s just an hour from the US border, and four hours from Phoenix; helpful for travel back to the Seattle area, and invaluable for supplying materials. We brought a LOT of duty-free goods over the relatively chilled Lukeville/Sonoyta border crossing, from rigging wire and fittings to countless stateside deliveries from the likes of McMaster-Carr, West Marine, and Amazon via helpful friends (the family formerly known as the Del Vientos) in Arizona. It’s so much easier than hiring a customs facilitator for the paperwork shuffle on imported goods while the parcels languish in Guadalajara before transferring by courier to…somewhere else, hopefully where you are.

Affordable local goods and services are another lure. Hardware stores in Puerto Peñasco often had what we needed, whether it was a network cable for our radar or a sheet of plywood to layup bimini panels.Andrew had new quadrant bits machined for Utopia from a block of aluminum for about US$150. Cabrales’ machine shop cut and polished shiny new spreader tangs for Totem. Not just boat related work was undertaken for our crew: wisdom teeth were pulled, Invisalign orthodontic journey embarked upon, eye exams had and glasses procured.

These are all the logical reasons to make Cabrales a great stop for the work we needed on Totem (or to put a boat to bed for hurricane season). But it’s the community created at the yard that elevated our time there from functional to exceptional, generating stories to be retold and locking it into a mental list of “we’ll go back someday” spots.

Third-generation yard manager Salvador Cabrales set the tone early on by instituting Taco Tuesdays (yes, even in Mexico!) with yard denizens – whether it was a handful or a few dozen – collected into various vehicles to head to his pick of exceptionally priced, exceptionally tasty meals. Over BYO brews we’d meet the latest arrivals while downing mouthwatering carne asada, or local oysters (eaten in view of the beds they’re harvested from), or maize-strewn posole, or fragrantly steaming churros.

These evenings were fun, not just for camaraderie with our fellow hardstanders but for Salvador’s genuine interest in helping us literally taste the experiences in his hometown, ensuring we got beyond walking distance of the yard to sample the range of good, simple fare.Fridays became potluck night after the yard rolled in a generously proportioned barbeque. Sundays evolved into movie night, when we’d bring Totem’s projector to the lounge to turn one of the blank expanses of wall into a big screen. A regular nighttime card game fell into the weekly routine. Built-in plans for fun were precious play to keep all the work in perspective!

One resident, an author, gave a presentation for kids of all ages about how to write and publish books. Morning walks with mi amigas were as beneficial mentally as they were physically, with vistas of the sea and sand between my toes.The lounge wall, meanwhile, may soon need taping off to retain the movie screen – for the best reason. Back in August, Salvador painted a challenge on the wall of the lounge. Mairen and Siobhan responded in kind. Four months later, the transformation is well underway!Mutual support comes naturally among denizens: available hands are helping hands. Mast stepping starts to look like a nautical barn raising with many sharing the effort, a theme that repeats with almost every launch on the yard’s 150-ton Travelift.

When holidays came around, they were presumptively shared: the kids organized a Halloween party, we sought out nearby Dia de Muertos festivities together, shared American Thanksgiving among nationalities, and this week there are plans for Christmas brunch and dinner gatherings. Some are coordinated through an active yard Facebook group. Many just happen organically.

It wasn’t just the cruisers, but bedrock members of yard staff who left indelible impressions: like the nighttime security guard we long knew only as maestro for his dedication to teaching us Spanish (his real name, Federico). When Jamie, Siobhan and I road tripped overnight to Phoenix, we learned he delivered enough delicious carnitas (pulled pork) and fixings to Mairen – lest she starve overnight? – to feed our whole family.

This fall Salvador introduced new residents to Cabrales Boatyard: litter mate kittens Candy and Pete (or, Dulce and Pedro, if you wish). Kitten shenanigans made for great yard entertainment, with many boats looking out for them – taking them on board in chilly nights, sequestering for TLC and safety. Community cared for with community benefit.

Writing this on our fourth day at sea and entering the height of holiday season (solstice while underway, Hanukkah commenced, Christmas just a few days off) may be to blame for these reflections on takeaways from 127 days in the yard. At a time when seasonal marketing pushes the message that you need to act or consume in particular ways to Do Life Right, our yard community serves as a reminder that how we connect and look out for each other that matters so much more. In our Penasco stay, this was borne out repeatedly in the community created.

Vas a volver? Will you be back? Daytime gate guard, Carlos, wanted to know. Tal vez tres años, I replied, hugging him goodbye, not really knowing how many years and challenged to express it – just knowing how much we hope to return.

The post Sailing Totem: Ode to a Shipyard Community appeared first on Cruising World.

Hot days pulling sticks on the hardstand, digital postcards from a dusty town in the Sonora desert, an animal farm in the shipyard… anyone following our social media updates knows Totem is hauled out, and there’s a lot going on. But wait, didn’t you just spend a bunch of time hauled out?

Last year’s extended stay at Cabrales Boatyard served a primary purpose: to dry out our wet (surprise!) hull, and then apply a nice Coppercoat bottom. We completed a bunch of smaller projects as well, like removing four through-hulls, but with plans to head back to the South Pacific in the coming spring there’s a lot more we need to do than we could tackle during the last haulout. Why? Partly because we didn’t have the time (we barely made it south to Puerto Vallarta before Niall landed for winter break!). Partly because the full scope of what we’d undertake wasn’t clear yet (can we get another year out of that ______?). Partly because we didn’t have the funds – well, that’s a showstopper!

It turns out that when you circumnavigate, things wear out. There’s also a dose of maintenance creep. Our crew has especially enjoyed out-of-the-way corners of the world; these more remote locations often have fewer resources to properly fix something that’s broken. You fix it well enough, and you keep going.

Totem‘s boatyard list right now is blend of re-doing some of those band-aid projects, replacing what’s worn out, and taking advantage of a good location to make improvements. Here’s a rundown of what’s ahead: curious about any? I’ll get to specifics on a few of these in subsequent posts, and we’re interested to know what readers care about.

Critical work

New rigging: New standing rigging after 60,715 miles. Much of the wire looks OK, even under magnification, but that’s a lot of cycle loading. It also gives us a chance to correct a few past rigger oopsies, including a tang bolt replaced in 2008 with a cut in it (hidden in hardware) and sloppy lower spreaders.

New mainsail and main cover: The recently retired main added in Australia in 2012, has done about 42,000 miles and two ocean crossings. Not bad for mediocre cloth (what we could afford at the time) and a lot of tropical sailing. UV was its undoing, as is the case with most sails on full-time cruising boats in the tropics.

New liferaft: Our current raft is a great product, but it’s aging (circa 2008), it needs a re-certification that’s half of replacement cost, and it’s a make that’s difficult to re-certify overseas. Bulkhead repair: Jamie’s suspected that water leaking under the shower pan was affecting the starboard aft bulkhead that divided our stateroom from the aft head. Surgical inspection (that’s wry humor, there was nothing surgical about breaking into this bulkhead!) revealed the lower 18 inches was spongy.

Mast maintenance: THE MAST IS OUT. This is a big deal! Component part maintenance, from spreaders to step, is meaningful. In addition, Jamie’s helping project manage other re-rigs for boats here, because he doesn’t have enough work to do on Totem…

Reconditioning or replacing all eight of Totem‘s hatches: Our hatches are original, 1982 hatches. Deeply scratched and worn, the lenses are probably original too. The hardware is failing. These keep the water out, so are non-negotiable on addressing.

Chainplate inspection: We pulled and inspected several during last year’s haulout and will finish the rest now. All but the stem fitting were replaced in 2008, and it’s likely time to do that one.

Bimini additions: We love the custom frame that friends at TurboXS built for Totem in 2016 (no, that’s not a marine supplier; yes, they are awesome humans); the frame begs a cover, and we’ve played with options over the years. How to best to balance needs for shade (big cover!) and visibility (no cover? windows? rollup?). Jamie’s come up with a new, mucho better shade design that he’ll build out.

New watermaker: We’ve had plenty of headaches with ours over the last few years, and can’t wait to replace it with an easier-to-maintain, high-output watermaker from CruiseRO. New inverter to power said watermaker: It will largely be powered by a portable generator, but we’d like an inverter big enough to handle it in case the generator fails.

New head: Referring here to both the cabin, and to the toilet! The ‘before’ scene is kinda terrifying: the ‘after’ will be glorious. Let’s call this a critical item for crew morale!

Gray-water system: We’ve experimented with a catchment system, and using water from the sink drains to flush the toilets. The trial is declared a success, and will be put into use with the new head: an install I’m looking forward to sharing. Washing machine: At long last, the washing-machine, I mean, 5-gallon-bucket will be retired! The high-capacity watermaker makes this possible. Another crew morale item…it may not be that critical, but it’s not on the wishlist.

Maybe / wishlist

New batteries: This may be necessary, but we’re not certain yet. We’d hoped to get a couple more years out of this relatively new (2017) bank, but it’s behaving as if it’s late in life. If they truly are, it would be much easier to do here than to do “somewhere” in the South Pacific.

Painting topsides: Totem‘s hull is well worn! Cosmetic work always falls last on our priorities with limited funds; we’d rather be safe than look pretty. We say (and it’s true) that every ding has a story – a friendly visitor in a wooden canoe, a remote customs dock, a wild night. But fiberglass is showing through the gelcoat in places (and we’ve got a painted hull on top of that gelcoat, too). We’d really like to do this, and hope we can fit it in; cosmetic work always lands last on our list of priorities.

Cabin rehab: This is two part: there’s some fun stuff, like getting the girls’ cabins freshened up; maybe paint, maybe wallpaper (a nice biaxial and epoxy pattern?), still trying to decide. We’d love to fix the headliner, too. It was replaced in Thailand some years back; a complicated story.

Water tank: Our secondary water tank is a bladder tank. This makes ineffective use of the space it resides in (square peg, round hole); replacing that with a built-in tank like we installed in Thailand (same yard, fantastic job on this count!), would increase capacity.

There are, of course, a multitude of other projects – “too many to list!” – you can see why we cut short summer sailing in the Sea of Cortez to start cracking into these!

The post Sailing Totem: Shipyard List: Refit for the South Pacific appeared first on Cruising World.

Long-term passage planning requires more than just familiarizing yourself with the seasonal weather patterns and entry requirements for countries you plan to visit. Every boat needs regular maintenance and seasonal haulouts, not to mention a backup plan in case unexpected repairs are needed.

Many sailors who follow the popular Coconut Milk Run think it’s necessary to sail to Australia or New Zealand to find proper facilities to address both regular and unexpected boat issues, but that is hardly the case. Nor is it necessary to flee the tropics during the cyclone season; safe refuge can be found for your vessel to weather approaching cyclones.

Scattered throughout the South Pacific are several reputable and reliable boatyards that offer cruising sailors everything from fiberglass repair to bottom paint, and short-term haulouts to long-term dry storage. We have found, and used the services at, these hidden haulouts while sailing in Fiji, Vanuatu and the Solomon Islands.

Vuda Point Marina, Fiji

Vuda Point Marina, which recently celebrated its 20th year in operation, is located on the picturesque southwestern shore of Fiji’s main island of Viti Levu. We arrived at Vuda Marina (pronounced vunda) in late 2011 by way of a recommendation from a fellow cruiser. We spent 10 hectic days getting Kate, our Newport 41, ready to leave on the hard for the cyclone season while we filled the cruising kitty. When we returned 12 months later — longer than we’d expected to be away — we decided to spend a second cyclone season in the hole, this time taking advantage of the facilities available and tackling a full list of boat jobs. We hired a local contractor to do a full topside paint job, resurface the deck and completely refinish the bottom. We also removed the engine, gave it a bit of love and had the engine bed rebuilt. We had a new aluminum arch custom-made for the solar array, and had some woodwork, fiberglassing, sail repair and machining done, all by local craftsmen.

Vuda Point Marina

Besides the work that we were doing on board, I was impressed with the improvements we saw around the marina. The aesthetics started to change: Staff wore new uniforms, the gardens were tended and the travel hoist got a fresh coat of paint. Practical changes were also made: A more comprehensive firefighting system was installed, a waste-oil tank appeared and security was tightened.

Adam Wade had recently taken over the post of marina manager, and most afternoons we’d see him walking through the yard, stopping to chat with cruisers as he made his daily inspection. Wade admitted that, “Prior to joining the marina, I didn’t know my jibs from my jibes.” But his strong background in hotel hospitality and a love of surfing made the steep learning curve a little easier to overcome, even when faced with Cyclone Evan bearing down on Fiji only two months after he took the position.

Although located in the cyclone belt, Vuda Point Marina is very popular due to its 35 in-ground cyclone pits for seasonal or long-term storage. This unique approach to boat storage ensures minimal damage in a storm if the vessel is stowed properly. Marry that with the fact that many insurance companies will cover vessels during cyclone season if left in-ground, and you can bet these “graveyard berths” fill up quickly.

Vuda Marina has 78 in-water Med-mooring berths with 240-volt, 10-amp single-phase power and shared access to a freshwater tap on each dock. The 63-ton travel hoist is the largest in Fiji and can accommodate vessels with a 19-foot beam. There are 30 hardstand spaces in the boatyard where boat owners are able to do work on vessels themselves or select from a list of contractors that are approved to work on the marina’s premises. Local day laborers or fully qualified and respected marine companies are available for hire to help with projects, depending on your budget.

We spent a total of four cyclone seasons at Vuda Point, and services continued to improve each time we returned. The marina regularly holds staff training for fire, first aid, CPR and customer service, and recently sent the apprentice travel-hoist driver to Australia to complete a “travel-hoist operators course.” Vuda Point Marina is now an official port of entry and offers full customs-and-immigration- clearance services, making our arrival and departure from Western Province an absolute pleasure. In 2016, the marina purchased a catamaran haulout trailer, making it one of the few places in the South Pacific able to service multihulls.

Located 30 minutes from Nadi International Airport, the hub of the Pacific, Vuda Point Marina is an easy-to-reach destination for guests or those who leave a vessel for the season. There is a well-stocked chandlery, store and ATM on site, and there are accommodations available at the marina if you’d like to leave the mess in the boatyard and get a good night’s sleep. And after a long, hot day ticking off items on the to-do list, you can join the crowd at the Boatshed Bar and Restaurant to enjoy a tasty meal, a cold beer and a sunset you’ll never forget.

Port Vila Boatyard, Vanuatu

Port Vila Boatyard is tucked away in the southern corner of Pontoon Bay on the island of Efate in Vanuatu. The small but professional boatyard offers moorings, haulouts, hardstand storage and a host of repairs and maintenance services to visiting cruisers.

We discovered the Port Vila Boatyard in 2015 when we were looking for a mooring for Kate during the sailing season. As always, we wanted somewhere quiet but convenient, and above all, safe. The cyclone moorings in front of the Port Vila Boatyard were the perfect fit.

Justin Jenkins, the owner and operator of Port Vila Boatyard since 2012, is a man who knows the business of boats. At age 15, he set sail from South Africa with his parents. He worked in the Caribbean as captain of a day-charter catamaran, then returned to school to earn his Master of Yachts 3,000GT certificate. He captained 40- to 50-meter superyachts in the Mediterranean, the United States and the Caribbean for more than a decade before moving to Vanuatu — where his parents had settled — bringing along his wife and young children. Jenkins’ love of Vanuatu and his experience in the marine industry are reflected in the care and attention he shows to his boatyard, staff, customers and yachts.

Haulouts at the boatyard are done on a New Zealand-built custom trailer and cradle that is lowered into the water via a rail system. A vessel is floated over the trailer, and a diver secures the boat to the cradle before it is slowly pulled up the beach and into the yard. Each vessel stays secured to its cradle while in the yard.

The yard strives to support the local economy and employs ni-Vanuatu (local) laborers, whose rates vary depending on their skill sets. It offers mechanical, electrical and electronic engineering services; structural repairs on steel, aluminum, composite and timber; and a host of cosmetic work, such as painting and polishing. It is possible to live aboard during your time at the yard, and for a small fee, have use of water, power, showers and Wi-Fi.

There is a small but well-stocked chandlery on the premises, and it is Vanuatu’s dealer and service agent for Spectra and Katadyn reverse-osmosis systems, Hyundai SeasAll marine engines and BLA, an Australian-based marine supplier. If the chandlery doesn’t stock an item you need, Jenkins can help you find it in Port Vila or help you import parts from overseas.

With space for 20 monohulls and three to four multihulls, Port Vila Boatyard is definitely a place to consider not only for maintenance and repairs but for seasonal or long-term storage. During the cyclone season, vessels in the yard are supported with additional props and strapped to their cradles. The cradles are then fastened to strong points buried in the ground for added security. Taking these extra precautions gives Jenkins bragging rights: Not one of the vessels in Port Vila Boatyard was damaged by the furious Cyclone Pam (one of Vanuatu’s most intense recorded storms). The insurance companies like it too.

The yard is located outside of the noise and commotion of Port Vila’s city center, but it’s on a local bus route, so finding transportation isn’t difficult. It is home to the Vanuatu Cruising Club and sponsors Vanuatu’s Junior sailing team. There is a cozy bar and seating area beside the office, as well as private, well-cared-for beach access. At the end of a busy day, you can kick back and unwind with a cold one while watching the kids dart about the bay during sailing practice.

I was alone on board during our eight-week stay on the mooring, and what impressed me most about the Port Vila Boatyard was the sense of community that I felt about the place. I was encouraged to leave our dinghy inside the main gate, and if I came home after dark, I was greeted by one of the 24-hour security staff members, who not only escorted me to the beach with a flashlight but waited to see that I arrived at the boat safely. Jenkins and his family invited me to yoga classes, art exhibitions and to share meals. I was always met with smiles and a helping hand, and considered the Port Vila Boatyard my home away from home while we were in Vanuatu.

Liapari Ltd., Solomon Islands

Liapari Island and its shore­side facilities are hidden gems of the Solomon Islands. Located at the southern tip of the large island Vella Lavella and just 12 nautical miles from the main town of Gizo, Liapari is protected by an extensive reef that shelters it from the weather. At first glance, the approach may seem a little intimidating because the charting in the Solomons is not great. But the entrance is obvious and well-marked.

Last year, we decided to explore the Solomon Islands, an island group with the reputation of spawning revolving tropical storms but not usually being affected by them. Nevertheless, we wanted a backup plan in case Mother Nature changed her mind and sent some nasty weather our way. Like many other places where we’ve sought refuge, Liapari was suggested by fellow cruisers who had firsthand experience there during an unseasonal blow and gave it glowing reports. We expected to find a well-protected bay and good holding away from the dirt and grime of Gizo. What we didn’t expect was to be welcomed into someone’s home.

Noel Hudson has been involved with Liapari Island since 1984, when he joined the then-booming coconut plantation that still occupies most of the property as a mechanic. A small fleet of ships, several vehicles and diesel generators that provided the station and its community of local laborers with power all needed to be maintained. As the copra (dried coconut kernel) industry in the South Pacific declined, Liapari Ltd. shifted its focus to providing haulout and repair services to local shipping vessels. In 2014, Hudson and his wife, Rosie, took ownership of the property, and it has become the go-to spot in the Solomon Islands for ­visiting yachts.

Operating two simple rail-and-cradle slipways, the yard can haul out vessels up to 5 meters wide, and with a 3-meter draft on the smaller unit. The larger slipway was under repair when we visited but can accommodate vessels up to 7 meters wide. Functioning as more of a labor and machinery hire, there isn’t much in the way of marine supplies at Liapari, nor in most of the Solomons, for that matter. However, as a place for an emergency haulout, it could be the difference between saving your boat and ending your cruising career.

Hudson runs a competent machine shop and offers welding and fabrication services, specializing in aluminum. There is also an on-site carpentry workshop and electricians, mechanics and general laborers for hire. For regular maintenance projects, it’s necessary to either carry all parts and supplies or ship them in from overseas. Liapari is an agent for BLA marine products and has offices in Honiara, the capital of the Solomons, so it can help with logistics and contacting suppliers. With a little forethought, Liapari can be an ideal spot for an annual haulout.

Hudson also offers an invaluable service to cruisers: a safe haven to leave a boat unattended. A sturdy 100-foot wharf can accommodate eight to 10 Med-moored monohulls. The extremely well-protected harbor and 24-hour security ensure your vessel will stay out of harm’s way while you’re gone. Competitive pricing makes Liapari an attractive alternative to sailing south during the offseason. There are four reasonably priced cabins for rent on the island, so you can sleep in comfort during transition times or while your boat is on the hard.

There is a small store on the island, and local ladies often visited our boat to sell or trade produce. For major provisioning, we caught the weekly supply boat to nearby Gizo. Airport drop-offs and chartered trips are also available. Liapari still depends on generators for power, and rain collection for the majority of its water supply, so come prepared if you plan on an extended stay.

The Hudsons also extend their island home and hospitality to transient yachts. Guests are invited to roam and explore the many trails that crisscross the island. A family-style potluck lunch is often held on the weekends, and most days at 5 o’clock, people gather at the Round House, where bad jokes and good stories flow freely over cold beer. The idyllic surroundings, friendly faces and warm welcome make Liapari a hard place to leave.

Canadian-born sailor Heather Francis has been living aboard full time since 2008 with her Aussie partner, Steve. Follow their adventures at yachtkate.com.

Contacts

Vuda Point Marina
Vuda Point, Viti Levu, Fiji
17°41’04 S, 177°23’02 E
vudamarina.com.fj
Email: info@vudmarina.com.fj
Phone: +679 666 8214
Fax: +679 666 8215

Port Vila Boatyard
Port Vila, Efate, Vanuatu
17°75’57 S, 168°29’52 E
portvilaboatyard.com
Email: portvilaboatyard@vanuatu.com.vu
Phone: +678 23417

Liapari Ltd.
Liapari Island, Western Province, Solomon Islands
07°56.8 S 156°42.8 E
Email: liapari@solomon.com.sb, H4KK@sailmail.com
Phone: +677 30441
Fax: +677 30278

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