On March 11, skipper Charlie Enright and his 11th Hour Racing Team sailed a staggering 586.36 nautical miles in a 24-hour push aboard their IMOCA 60 Mālama. The team was in the wind-swept depths of the Southern Ocean, west of Australia’s Cape Leeuwin, en route from Cape Town, South Africa. It was headed to Itajaí, Brazil, on The Ocean Race’s mammoth 12,750-nautical-mile Leg Three, and conditions were perfect. In fact, the team temporarily owned the unofficial 24-hour world record for a crewed IMOCA 60, but its pace was bettered some 24 hours later by skipper Kevin Escoffier and his HOLCIM-PRB team (it’s now 595.26 nautical miles). Records aside, there’s a difference between these two monohulls that’s far more important: impact quantification. It will affect far more than speed across a few nautical miles. It has the potential to change the future of sailing, and that of humanity.

The 11th Hour Racing Team’s website summarizes the team’s goals for this year’s race: “The only thing more important than winning is leaving a positive impact.” Achieving that goal began with Mālama’s design and build process, the latter of which took place at CDK Technologies in Port La Forêt, France. The team worked alongside the global-sustainability firm Anthesis Group to optimize the MarineShift360 life-cycle assessment tool. It’s specific to the marine industry, and it can model carbon footprints, water-consumption requirements, and greenhouse-gas emissions for different design and build options. 

MarineShift360 is now publicly available online, giving owners, designers, naval architects, project managers, and production-boat builders a way to look at how materials, construction methods, energy sources, and more might lower the impact of a new build or a refit. As more people use MarineShift360, their data is imported into its growing database, making the tool even stronger.

“The MarineShift360 tool isn’t specific to the racing sector. It’s very much for the broader marine sector,” says Damian Foxall, 11th Hour Racing’s sustainability program manager (and a six-time Volvo Ocean Race veteran). “It’s based on a standard LCA inventory, which is used by multiple industries, and then it’s been improved through specific pilot-user input.” 

Users can choose among three subscriptions available for MarineShift360: free, professional and enterprise.

“Free users are limited to creating a single project and single assessment, so they could model a single component, like a hull, for instance, but they would not be able to model the complete boat or compare the impact of using different materials in the construction,” says Ollie Taylor, associate director at Anthesis Group. “If you wanted to understand the complete cradle-to-grave impact of your vessel, you would need to purchase one of the subscription options.”

All three versions are based around a deep list of information prompts—either drop-down menus or fields where metrics can be entered—that numerically describe the project. These information prompts vary, depending on the project’s size, type and construction methodology. They range from the specific materials and quantities to the sources and quantities of electricity, gas, and water required to produce the raw material and transform it into a finished product.

Impact quantification will affect far more than speed across a few ­nautical miles. It has the potential to change the future of sailing, and that of humanity.

While the hull material represents boatbuilding’s single biggest environmental impact, there are plenty of other important impact sources to consider, such as resins, metals, rare minerals, and coatings and paints.

“It is a simple enough process, collating the input data from the manufacturer, but it is an intensive undertaking,” Foxall says, adding that the tool can be used by everyday boaters as well as corporate sustainability officers who can likely realize added benefits (read: preparing your own taxes versus hiring an accountant). “The results are only going to be as good as the data that you put into it.”

Once these values are imported, the ­system calculates impacting factors, including greenhouse-gas emissions, ­electricity consumption, water use and waste percentages. Users can then adjust their input variables to identify the ­project’s environmental hotspots.

“Any single decision that you make will have a knock-on effect,” Foxall says. “This is where the LCA tool is really useful ­because it will take into account the ­overall process.”

While greenhouse-gas emissions drive much of the environmental conversation, MarineShift360 can also quantify other impacts. This includes the water that’s used directly in the manufacturing plant and—if the right data has been imported into the database—the water consumed to grow trees, flax and other organic ­materials, which are then shipped to a different area to be incorporated into a manufactured product.

It’s important to use multiple indicators. There’s no single perfect solution to this. It really depends on finding the right balance. We need to look at all of these issues through multiple lenses. 

For example, carbon fiber has one of the heaviest CO₂e and energy-consumption footprints of all contemporary ­boatbuilding materials; however, its ­consumed-water footprint is ­significantly less than that of flax or wood. So if someone looked at a proposed project only through the lens of water consumption, rather than studying the big-picture impacts, information would be missing.

“This is why it’s so important to use multiple indicators,” Foxall says. “There’s no single perfect solution to any of this, and it really depends on finding the right balance. We need to look at all of these issues through multiple lenses.”

Foxall also says that it’s essential to ­focus on the owner’s (or boatbuilder’s) goals and values for the project. Key criteria need to be defined.

“What do we think are important in the decision-making process?” he says, pointing as an example to the choice between plastic bottles and glass jars. The former may be made from oil, but the latter has a higher carbon footprint, given the amount of energy required for its production and transportation. “I think we all prefer to use glass bottles to plastic bottles, but if you were to purely look at it through a carbon-emissions lens, you wouldn’t come to that conclusion. So again, it’s about understanding what lens we’re using and why we are making the decisions.”

One of the most important decisions involves deciding whether to build something new or to reuse something. MarineShift360 uses a 100+0 model for this equation. The original owner effectively owns 100 percent of the project’s environmental impacts, while secondhand buyers enjoy an impact-free boat (excluding any refitting work). This can be a consideration for anyone who is debating building a new yacht versus refitting.

This is also where the words “quality” and “durability” enter the conversation. Few people will waste time or treasure refitting an old, cheaply built boat, but brokers typically don’t have to work too hard to sell an older, higher-quality build.

“The next lens to use is ‘better,’” Foxall says. “Better might mean a better ­manufacturing process, where we’re using fewer disposables.” It could also mean ­using recycled carbon fiber in molds, adding higher-quality materials, and leveraging as much renewable energy and recycled materials as possible.

Production-boat builders may have ­different goals and values than an ­individual building her dream cruising yacht, but larger-scale operations can often magnify impact reductions beyond what a single yacht could ever realize.

As an example, Foxall says, ­production lines can switch to reusable silicone bagging from single-use plastic-intensive vacuum bagging. Or they can build a high-quality mold for hundreds, possibly thousands, of use cycles.

“The LCA tool allows you to describe what you are building and the process associated with it, within the context of the manufacturing site, allowing you to make smart decisions,” Foxall says.

While the benefits associated with the MarineShift360 LCA tool are obvious, there are some inherent challenges. As Foxall mentioned, the results hinge on the quality of the data that’s entered and how granularly accurate the information is. For example, are generic numbers being used to describe a piece of equipment? Or has the equipment’s manufacturer supplied exact metrics?

“In an LCA process, you’re always going to have a certain amount of averaging and best-available data,” Foxall says. “What is important is to establish a consistent reference point.”

As more users supply MarineShift360 with accurate metrics, the tool should continue to become more accurate. So if you’re considering building a new boat or refitting an existing hull, start entering the data that describes your dream. Odds are excellent that you will improve your project and that your great-great-great grandchildren will thank you.

And, as evidenced by Mālama’simpressive run, you won’t have to sacrifice speed, performance or offshore capabilities.

“At the end of the day, the LCA is just a number,” Foxall says. “The question is: What do you do with that number?”

David Schmidt is a lifelong sailor and writer. He has worked with Cruising World since 2015, he regularly contributes to Yachting and Sailing World, he’s the North American editor of sail-world.com, and he’s a sailing contributor to The New York Times. He and his wife live in Bellingham, Washington. 

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The start of a new cruising season is a time often filled with thoughts about the exciting new adventures ahead. As it should be. But it’s also a time to ponder how we, as individual sailors, can help make sailing a greener, more sustainable activity. While what follows is a far cry from mastering carbon sequestration or cold fusion, here are some simple ways we can all reduce our ­environmental wakes.

Chandlery choices. It’s incredibly hard to eliminate all single-­use plastics, but numerous manufacturers are working to reduce our dependence on these materials. Companies including B&G, Harken and Yamaha have pledged to reduce their dependence on unsustainable packaging, and green-minded customers are encouraged to support businesses that share these ethics. 

DC alternatives. Few sailors enjoy listening to marine engines rumble just to keep the batteries charged. Fortunately, today’s hydrogenerators and wind generators can keep the DC juices flowing, and solid options exist from manufacturers, including Eclectic Energy, Nature Power and Watt&Sea. (See the November/December 2021 issue of Cruising World.)

Grocery getting. Provisions are fundamental to any passage or cruise, but how one’s victuals come packaged can go a long way toward reducing the amount of garbage in our collective wake. If you’re buying shelf-sturdy items such as nuts, grains and dried fruits, check the bulk-food aisle. Some stores allow you to bring your own reusable containers (they’re weighed ahead of time) to eliminate single-use packaging.

Hydrate or die. Dock water doesn’t usually taste great, but bottled water generates plastics and microplastics. One smart option is to buy an RV-style, spigot-attached water filter (ballpark $30 from Amazon; not for use with saline) and a clean, dedicated hose. This inexpensive kit can be used to fill large onboard dromedaries, which, in turn, can fill or refill each crewmember’s reusable water bottle. 

ICE melters. It’s ironic that internal combustion engines are nicknamed “ICE machines,” given their CO2 footprints, but there’s optimism in today’s marine-specific electric motors. These range from DC-powered outboards to saildrive-style electric motors from companies including ePropulsion, Oceanvolt and Torqeedo. If your whip or dink needs repowering, go electric. You’ll enjoy quieter, vibration-free cruising and—given the automotive industry’s direction—likely increase your vessel’s resale value.

Toxin taming. When it comes to protecting coral reefs and the marine environment, not all sunscreens are created equal. Instead of falling for marketing lingo such as “reef safe,” read each product’s ingredient list and cross-reference it for known environmental toxins. Online resources exist at the Haereticus Environmental Laboratory and on Cruising World’s website, making it easier to protect your family from UV rays without harming the environs we all love. 

Second acts. Few commissioning activities are as exciting as bending on new sails, even if doing so begs questions about what to do with the old inventory. Companies such as Sea Bags Maine and Mafia Bags accept sail donations and repurpose old airfoils into duffels and totes. Other options include organizations such as Sails for Sustenance, which collects old sails and provides them to Haiti’s subsistence fishermen.

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The Sailing Museum (TSM) announced on June 9 a unique opportunity for the sailing community to create a film exhibit to be featured in the museum. Scheduled to open in May of 2022, TSM will offer an innovative multi-media experience dedicated to celebrating sailing’s heritage, showcasing its heroes and inspiring new generations of sailors and innovators.

TSM will feature themed areas, beginning with Wind & Water where visitors will be introduced to some of the basic principles of sailing. One of the exhibits in this area will be focused on the importance of caring for the places we sail.

“As sailors, we have a unique bond with our oceans and waterways,” said Heather Ruhsam, executive director, The Sailing Museum. “We’ve seen firsthand that our lakes, rivers, oceans and seas are being threatened by pollution and declining habitat, which is damaging marine biodiversity and hurting coastal communities. We’ve also seen that the positive actions we take on land and sea can, and do, make a difference. Through The Sailing Museum we can share our collective efforts from coast-to-coast with sailors and non-sailors alike, inspiring all to take action.”

TSM is inviting the sailing community to share what they are doing in their communities to protect and preserve the waters they sail on. They have issued a request for video submissions to help create a stewardship anthem that will be featured in the museum as well as their website and social channels.

“We are excited to include both our supporters and the greater sailing community in the creation of this exhibit,” said Ruhsam. “The Sailing Museum is designed not only to pay tribute to the history of sailing, but to educate those new to our sport, including the importance of protecting our home waters to ensure this and future generations can enjoy the pastime we love. This video campaign is a unique opportunity to share your passion and be a part of the museum experience.”

To contribute to the stewardship film, sailors are asked to record a short video (up to two minutes) with a camera or mobile device. In an effort to simplify the submission process, TSM has developed simple step-by-step instructions for recording as well as a Mad Libs-style script to use as a guide. An example of video content includes the following:

“I am a sailor.

I am proud to be a steward/protector/defender/champion/word of your choosing of the name of the ocean/sea/river/lake/waterway you sail on.

Wherever we sail, our home waters are in danger.

So, here’s what I’m doing to protect them: list 1-3 actions you are taking in the name of stewardship.

Together, we can do this/make a difference/another phrase of your choosing.”

TSM is encouraging sailors to bring their personality and location into their videos. For more information on The Sailing Museum and a complete instructional PDF for video submissions, please visit thesailingmuseum.org/film.

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I am always looking for creative ways to reduce waste. So when I had a pair of wet-weather bibs that no longer kept me dry, I didn’t automatically assume they were no longer useful. If sailing has taught me anything, it is to adapt to the conditions and work with what you have.

The overalls looked good, but they didn’t work. This was evident during a wet passage from Fiji to New Caledonia. When I got off my midnight watch, I was soaked. And when I woke for my 0600 watch, I noticed flecks of the neon green all over my body. Either I was slowly morphing into the Hulk or I was covered in the bib’s waterproof lining.

I was extremely disappointed that my newish gear had failed, but there was no way to return it. That ship had sailed, literally. It seemed a waste to put the heavy, durable fabric in the bin, so I put it in my sewing stash under the bunk. Of course, like most things shoved under the bunk, it was forgotten for months. OK, maybe years, but when I rediscovered it, I knew exactly what to do.

I’d been wanting to replace my defunct heavy-duty tote bag that I use for provisioning. I needed a bag that could comfortably sling over my shoulder and had a wide enough opening for large items such as a leafy head of Napa cabbage but could be tied shut so nothing fell out on a bumpy dinghy ride home. It had to be lightweight and foldable but sturdy enough to carry at least 20 pounds. It was time to turn those old overalls into the provisioning bag of my dreams.

Read More: Green Wakes

The obvious choice was to utilize the bib and body of the overalls. After removing the elastic shoulder straps and saving them for a future project, I cut off the legs. What was left was a good-size bag with a slight hole in the bottom, but it was nothing that a few seams and details couldn’t fix. I sewed the bottom closed, and doubled the reinforcement on the seam for added strength. Then I added webbing straps and created a long tie in the center of the bag opening, using both to keep the top closed and to tie the bag when folded small.

With the remaining fabric from the legs I made a smaller bag. I used webbing from an old camera bag for the shoulder strap, incorporating a plastic hook for somewhere handy to hang a dinghy key. I also added a narrow pocket on the outside, just perfect to keep a phone or radio within reach.

Strong, lightweight and washable, these two customized bags have become a staple when I head out to provision. I love that I am avoiding single-use plastic-bag waste. As the old saying goes, everything on a boat should do two jobs.

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The United Nations estimates that 1.5 billion tons, or one-third of all food produced, is wasted annually. It is also estimated that more than 40 percent of that food is wasted by the ­consumer. What you put on your plates has far-reaching ­environmental consequences, and that means you have the power to make big, positive ­environmental changes. On a more personal level, reducing food waste means less stinky trash to deal with on board.

Reducing food waste doesn’t mean going vegan or giving up favorite foods. It doesn’t even require major changes to your routine. Simply by being a little more mindful about the food you buy and eat can help prevent global food waste.

Use What’s on Board

The first step ­toward reducing food waste is simply to use what you have on board instead of heading ashore to buy more. Start by checking what fresh goods need to be ­eaten before they spoil, and build your meal from there. Sometimes this means creative substitutions, but cooking is about the creative process—embrace it. This is also a good opportunity to rotate stock and check expiration dates on canned goods in the dry stores.

Make a Plan and Stick to It

Taking a few minutes each week to create a meal plan and a provisioning list is a great strategy to reduce food waste, not to mention stress. Arming yourself with a list when heading out to provision means you can reduce impulse purchases and avoid doubling up on things you already have on board. Buying only the food you need means your shopping trip will be time- and cost-effective.

Eat Ugly

Approximately 46 percent of produce never makes it from the farm to the galley simple because of cosmetic preferences. Apples that aren’t big enough, carrots that aren’t straight enough and lemons that aren’t yellow enough are all thrown away despite being perfectly nutritious. “Eating ugly” is accepting that nature is not cosmetically perfect, and that produce grows in all sorts of shapes, sizes and colors. Small producers and farmers markets are likely to have more variety when it comes to cosmetically imperfect fruits and veggies. As well, check for the “ugly”—and often discount—produce section in conventional stores. Save a few pennies, and the planet too!

Shop Local vs. Organic

Many people choose organic over locally grown, thinking that it is a better choice for the environment. However, it is important to consider farming practices, shipping distances and packaging when choosing your food. Buying something organic that is from an industrial farm, wrapped in plastic and shipped to a remote island will have greater negative environmental impact than choosing locally grown but not certified-organic food.

Eat Sustainably

Eating sustainably asks that we consider where and how our food is grown, the resources used, the ­environmental impact of the entire ­process, the conditions of the animals, and how the workers are treated and paid. You can eat sustainably by reducing your meat consumption, choosing wild-caught instead of farmed fish, eating seasonally, buying local, buying fair trade, growing or making your own, and eating less packaged and processed foods.

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Any sailor with even the mildest case of wanderlust has gazed longingly at the gentle curve of a tabletop globe, tracing imaginary routes from their hometowns to faraway ports with the tips of their fingers. For West Coast sailors, these lines are likely to lead south; perhaps meandering along Baja’s rugged Pacific coast and turning the corner at Cabo San Lucas, headed for a place where the water is said to be bluer, the air warmer, the fish just a bit more colorful.

This magical place, of course, is the Sea of Cortez. And if that narrow strip of water tucked between mainland Mexico’s Sonoran Desert and the Baja’s beckoning finger is, in fact, the setting of your cruising daydreams, then you are in luck, because exploring the sea has never been easier. After all, we live in a time when every bit of information necessary for an extended sailing ­journey—from downloadable charts and safety guides to ­anecdotal what-to-expect articles—is just a quick Google search away.

This wealth of easily accessible information has made traveling around the Sea of Cortez, by sailboat or otherwise, not only easier, but far more popular. Tourism has been steadily rising for years. While this growing popularity has boosted local economies and allowed for more people to experience the beauty of Mexico’s most ecologically diverse body of water, increasing international traffic has also put a strain on the natural environment, potentially putting the very things that have drawn so many of us to the sea at risk.

My impression of the Sea of Cortez, ­after my family’s first cruising season there nearly three years ago, was that it was a body of water absolutely brimming with life. It did not take long for me to realize how skewed my perception was by my unfamiliarity with the environment and its history. Seasoned cruisers were quick to inform me that while the sea is still home to an exceptional quantity of wildlife, the decline just over their lifetimes has been evident and indisputable.

I spent many hours of that first winter lying in the sun on the foredeck, fantasizing about the wonders these sailors were fortunate enough to witness in the earlier years of traveling. As a 19-year-old on the first leg of what hopefully will be a lifetime of voyaging, I was saddened by the thought that I may have already missed out on the golden years of cruising, when our oceans were still healthy and flourishing. Sadder still was the thought of what the sea could look like in the next five to 10 years, when I hope to return on my own sailboat.

Will it still be legal—or possible—to fish in the Sea of Cortez? I would wonder, as the Mexican sun beat down on my skin. Will this place that I have come to know and love so much even be recognizable in 10 years? And what could I possibly do to make sure that it is? While these doubts might be discounted as the overdramatic musings of a teenage girl, there are many people in Mexico—and the world over—asking the very same questions.

Cruisers and the Sea

I was lucky enough to meet a few of these like-minded people this past spring, when a small group from the organization Grupo de Ecología y Conservación de Islas, A.C. came to San Carlos, Mexico, to speak to cruisers about how we can help keep the Sea of Cortez the pristine place we all know and love. They showed up in San Carlos with a presentation but no plan for where or when it would take place. With the help of the local cruising community, in less than a week the group was able to find a suitable venue and get the word out about the impromptu event.

When my brother and I walked into the bar where the talk was taking place, the owner had to grab extra seats from the outdoor dining area and shuffle the audience around just so we could sit down. The room was packed. When the presentation began, people in the audience asked questions and scribbled down notes. Cruisers shared stories of their own experiences with fishing regulations, protected areas and invasive species.

The speakers, who were mostly unfamiliar with the cruising lifestyle, reacted with curiosity and gratitude for the insights and fresh perspectives. The audience expressed their equally abundant gratitude by staying after the talk to chat with the presenters. It seemed as though every boat owner within 100 miles was not only present at the event, but also engaged, concerned and eager to learn more about the state of their beloved sea.

I walked away feeling hopeful and inspired. I had learned a great deal about the surrounding ecosystem and my place in it. But more important, I had learned that other sailors genuinely care about the changes going on in the water beneath their hulls. Inspired by this realization, I decided to share Conservación de Islas’ message with the broader sailing ­community. The result is a cruising guide of sorts, written not for your benefit, fellow cruiser, but for the benefit of your future cruiser grandbabies.

Beware of Hitchhikers

Rats and other unwelcome stowaways are a danger to more than sailors’ sanity when cruising in the Sea of Cortez. Invasive rodents, as well as seeds from certain invasive plants, pose a tremendous threat to the biodiversity of the sea’s many islands. One well-known invasive rodent is the black rat. Also known as the “ship rat,” these pesky little hitchhikers have been the cause of many a gray hair for sailors for hundreds of years. If you happen to find and catch a rat aboard your vessel, however, think twice before tossing it overboard in triumphant glee. Black rats are incredibly resilient and can swim up to a mile in open water. If they make it to an island, they are likely to throw off the delicate balance of their new ecosystem by preying on native seabirds.

My initial assumption after learning about the ship rat’s diet of choice was that sea life would flourish in response to a decrease in these predatory birds. It turns out, the opposite is true. The nutrient-rich guano produced by seabirds makes up an essential part of the underwater food chain. When there is less guano making its way into the sea, small fish that rely on it lose a vital food source and begin to die off. When little fish disappear, bigger fish—the ones we like to eat—are always close behind.

Sadly, the best way to safely get rid of rats is to kill them. The thought of ending a rat’s life might be unpleasant, but far more animals are put at risk when invasive rodents take up residence in island habitats.

RELATED: Sailing Totem: Cruising Untethered in the Sea of Cortez

Not all invasive species make their presence known when hitching a ride on your vessel. Invasive plant seeds can find their way from the mainland to islands by silently clinging to the bottom of an unwitting sailor’s shoes. Once their roots are set in island soil, invasive plants compete with native flora for resources, often crowding them out completely and limiting the food supply of native herbivores. The invasive buffel grass, commonly found throughout the Sonoran Desert, spreads quickly, ­creating grasslands that not only lack biodiversity, but also increase the risk of wildfires in areas where they would otherwise be rare. Conservación de Islas recommends keeping a mat on deck or in your dinghy so that it is easy to wipe seeds off your shoes before stepping onto islands or back onto your vessel.

Invasive marine invertebrates (think mussels and barnacles) often make their way to new environments by hitching rides on sailboat hulls and in ballast tanks. Make sure to give the entire underside of your vessel a good cleaning, and empty your ballast tank—if you have one—­before entering Mexican waters to avoid transporting invertebrates from your home port to foreign environments.

The eradication of invasive species is a tedious and resource-intensive process. It is up to those who frequent the islands in the Sea of Cortez—cruisers being at the top of this list—to take preventative measures that will eliminate the need for eradication in the long run. A simple rule that sailors can follow is to bring as little as possible onto the islands we visit and leave nothing behind. This includes food scraps, such as orange peels and apple cores, that might be a source of food for invasive rodents.

Think Before You Fish

Remember that fishing ­regulations are in place for a reason. Marine protected areas were created to give ecosystems a chance to recover from the effects of overfishing and coastal development. While it’s true that sailors have played a relatively small part in the overfishing that has wreaked havoc on the Sea of Cortez, we can be respectful visitors by adhering to the regulations put in place to reverse its effects.

Over the six months I have spent island hopping in the Sea of Cortez, not once have I seen fishing regulations being enforced. Mexico’s environmental protection agency, Procuraduría Federal de Protección al Ambiente, is underfunded and spread incredibly thin when it comes to enforcing environmental law. As cruisers, we can help them out by making a conscious effort to remain aware of the laws as we make our way from anchorage to anchorage. One way to educate yourself is to talk to an official about the fishing regulations on the islands you plan to visit. Before visiting any of the sea’s protected islands, you’ll need to buy a permit at a Comisión Nacional de Áreas Naturales Protegidas office in either La Paz or Loreto, which provides the perfect opportunity to pick an environmental expert’s brain. They will have plenty of useful information and should be more than willing to share it.

If you enter the Sea of Cortez with so much as a single fish hook aboard your vessel, you will need to purchase a fishing license. This allows line fishermen to catch 10 fish per person per day. When fishing underwater with a spear gun or sling, this number goes down to five per person.

For most of us, this is a pretty generous limit. But it is important to note that stricter limits are placed on a few specific species: dorado, roosterfish, shad or tarpon, and gulf grouper. These have limits of two fish per person per day. And if you are lucky enough to catch any of these fish, it will count as five toward your daily 10-fish limit.

Visitors are also prohibited from catching mollusks and shellfish such as lobsters, mussels and clams. Unlike the catch limits on fin fish, some cruisers find this law harder to obey. Maybe the information is not known widely enough, or perhaps it’s hard for some to resist the urge to discreetly pick lobsters off the rocks when snorkeling. Regardless, it is an important rule to follow. Shellfish, as is much of the marine life in the Sea of Cortez, are in steep decline thanks to our hefty appetite for seafood.

There are no limits placed on catch-and-release fishing, as long as the fish are returned to the water in good shape. Even if you are not practicing catch-and-release, it is best to release fish that have not reached maturity. This gives them the opportunity to reproduce, helping to keep fish populations level over long periods of time. Become familiar with the average full-size length of the fish you catch most often, and stick to keeping only the fish that have clearly reached that length.

All the islands in the Sea of Cortez are protected and managed by CONANP, and have their own set of fishing restrictions. The use of spear guns and slings is prohibited in island waters. Line fishing is allowed in most areas on the islands, with a few exceptions. There are, though, no-take zones, where no fishing of any kind is allowed.

It is easy to get caught up in the ­excitement of reeling in a fish once the tug-of-war match has begun. Before you pull out the knife and start planning your fish taco dinner, stop and think about your catch. Have you reached your limit? Is the fish mature? Has it had a chance to reproduce? Are you in a no-take zone? If, after a moment of contemplation, you decide that the fish would do more for the sea than your dinner plate, consider releasing it.

When it comes to shrinking the collective cruising footprint, doing your part is relatively straightforward. In my eyes, it boils down to a simple combination of using common sense and staying informed. These tips are just a few examples of the countless ways we can work on treading lightly while voyaging. Do some Googling and get creative. Few stretches of coast on our blue planet are safe from the harmful effects of overfishing and invasive species, not to mention plastic pollution, coastal development and climate change. Researching location-specific environmental issues should be common practice when preparing for voyages anywhere in the world, not just in the Sea of Cortez.

One of the beautiful things about life at sea is the sense of accountability that comes along with being almost entirely off-grid. The illusory veil separating human life from the ocean is lifted by the cruising lifestyle. Being a steward of the sea can hardly be called activism by those of us drawn to a life afloat. Instead, we should recognize it as our job to protect the places we hold dear, in the hope that the coming generation may inherit the same sense of awe and wonder we feel every time we spin that tabletop globe.

Laura Belichak grew up sailing and surfing in Northern California, and after high school moved part time with her family aboard their Catalina 400, Circe, to spend the next four years cruising the Sea of Cortez. She is in the process of preparing her own boat, a Cal 2-27 named Wild, for her own extending sailing adventure. You can follow her at ­ livingthewildway.com.

The post A Green Guide for the Sea of Cortez appeared first on Cruising World.

This year we sailed from the Mediterranean to the Canary Islands, down the West African coast to Cabo Verde, then right across the Atlantic Ocean to the Caribbean—over 4,000 nautical miles, and while underway, not once did we run our engine or generator for power or propulsion. For a whole month of sailing, we were driven entirely by the wind, sun and sea.

Compliments of Mother Nature, our B&G autopilot, sailing instruments, chart plotter, VHF, AIS, satellite phone, fridge/freezer compressor, lights and entertainment all ran on clean, natural, renewable energy. We even operated our Spectra Ventura 12-volt watermaker every three to five days when the sun was high, and had enough juice to run our Mastervolt inverter to charge our electric toothbrushes. In fact, we regularly had more incoming power than we needed and frequently restrained the wind generator to manage our charge during the day.

We didn’t always have such a green wake or an abundance of amps. When my wife, Catherine, and I set off from New York in 2007, Dream Time, our 38-foot Cabo Rico, sported just an Ampair wind generator and one feeble flexible solar panel sagging over the Bimini. On a really good day, both would generate about 5 to 6 amps—just enough to keep the beer cold. We made it as far as Florida before realizing an upgrade to our renewable-­energy source was necessary. We replaced the single flexible solar panel with two 85-watt panels, the fore/aft angle of which can be adjusted to face the sun. A few years later, in New Zealand, we replaced our Ampair wind generator with a D400, and a few more sea miles after that, in the Northern Territory of Australia, we bought a secondhand hydrogenerator from a local sailor, rebuilt the unit and added it to our arsenal of passagemaking power.

Since our original upgrades, we’ve gone weeks at anchor in the tropics without having to burn fuel to charge our two 225-amp-hour gel house batteries. The solar panels provide 10 to 12 amps when the sun is high, while our D400 wind generator adds another 10 to 15 amps when the trades are steady. Combined, it’s more than enough to give us complete off-the-grid freedom to power our floating home, make water and run the inverter for a few hours every evening. But passagemaking was always a charging challenge because sail shadows would, at some point in the day, cover our solar panels, and as we spend most of our time going with the breeze rather than against it, the apparent wind speed for our D400 would drop by 30 percent.

Cruising catamarans typically have plenty of surface area and can comfortably carry 500 watts of solar panels, and even twin wind generators, one for each hull, without looking cluttered. But for a modest-size monohull where space is at a premium, unless you don’t mind your boat looking like an overloaded pack mule or having an engine thumping away in the hull a few hours a day just to boost your volts, finding balance between power consumption and renewable energy can be a little more challenging.

Our voyage across the Atlantic wasn’t our fastest —under mostly sunny skies, we averaged a respectable 6 knots, with 15 to 20 knots of wind blowing steadily across our stern—but it was the first offshore passage during which we’d been able to tow our Aquair hydrogenerator. The unit produced a little less than 1 amp for every knot of boatspeed, contributing up to 5 amps—faster speeds did not result in an increase of current and only had the unit’s prop whizzing and leaping from waves like a hooked mahi. Some cruisers attach anodes to the propeller shaft to increase its weight, but for Dream Time, this would rarely be necessary. The 100 feet of trailing line and propeller made no discernible difference to boatspeed, and like our wind generator, provided steady, reliable power 24 hours a day, allowing Dream Time to sail quietly through the night, with volts rarely falling below 12.6.

Since we left New York, we have sailed 48,000 nautical miles, and we have found a balance on Dream Time, one that we never imagined possible 13 years ago. Our independence and the security we feel that comes from our self-reliance are among the most valuable discoveries we have made on our long voyage around the world. There is an intimacy and awareness to the moment that comes when living on a small boat sailing far from the noise and distraction of a modern life. And there is a most satisfying freedom, a harmony that comes from crossing oceans, exploring the world under sail, powered entirely by the wind, sun and sea.

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The good news? There are a lot of old boats out there.

Many have “good bones,” as they say, and often, they can be purchased for a remarkably modest price. If maintained, their hulls and decks haven’t been overly compromised by water seeping into plywood or balsa cores. Their aluminum masts remain straight and strong. Replace aging rigging, buy new sails, perhaps repower the engine, and update the electrical system and electronics, and off you go—at a fraction of the price of buying new.

The bad news? There are a lot of old boats out there. And they are really a problem.

Yards are choking on boats that won’t—or at least shouldn’t—ever see the water again. They sit with rotting interiors behind homes, an eyesore in the neighborhood. They hang year after year on moorings, in too poor shape to go sailing but preventing others from having access to the water. Most eventually will be cut to pieces and buried in landfills. But a few will break free and end up ashore, becoming an expense for homeowners or towns to deal with, or they will be left to break apart and deposit yet more plastic into the wild.

Ironically, one guy thinking a lot about this problem is Bruno Belmont, who has spent the better part of his career with Groupe Beneteau, which builds more fiberglass sailboats than anyone else on the planet. Belmont’s current title is product designer for Excess Catamarans, a brand launched by the group this past year. I caught up with him at the introduction of two new models, the Excess 11 and Excess 15, at the Miami International Boat Show in February.

The problem, Belmont says, is twofold: What to do with all the old boats to make way for new ones, and how to design new models so they can be disassembled and disposed of when their useful life has come to an end.

Modern fiberglass sailboats are built using a variety of resins and epoxies that permeate cloth fabric and coring to give it strength. Hulls, decks, bulkheads and furniture are then bonded together using exotic glues, making it difficult or impossible to then separate them. When it comes time to dispose of the boat, it’s easy enough to strip away things like the keel, winches and other hardware, but wood, fiberglass and a range of coring materials pose a much greater recycling challenge.

Belmont notes that while sailing is an incredibly green activity, building boats—at present anyway—isn’t. The solution, he says, is to pressure the chemists to come up with bonding materials that are sufficiently strong, but whose adhesion properties can be reversed when it comes time to recycle.

Already, he says, across the group, designers are trying to use more eco-friendly fabrics and woods. In that regard, he estimates they are 60 percent along the way to building a greener boat. But resins and glues? There’s a ways to go. He estimates that today, they have achieved maybe 15 percent of their goal to find greener alternatives. The problem is that boatbuilders may ask for them, but they represent a small minority when it comes to the demand for industrial chemicals used in construction worldwide.

In the meantime, the French builder is looking for other ways to follow a greener path; in fact, it’s one of a dozen or so design criteria. Bruno says one short-term goal is to build production sailboats that can be fossil-fuel independent for a minimum of three days by using more-efficient lights and appliances and relying on solar and wind for power. Down the road, he believes harnessing hydrogen looks promising.

And at home, the entire marine industry in France ­contributes to a fund to pay to purchase and dispose of boats that have reached the end of their usefulness, funded by a tax on every new boat sold. When a dealer takes a worn-out model in trade, some of his cost and the cost of recycling the boat is covered. Meantime, there is a pilot initiative underway to grind up old fiberglass and use the powder when making new fibers.

Still, building more eco-friendly boats is what Belmont is after. New sailors coming in to the market today are asking for greener products, he says. At present, the marine industry is perhaps 20 percent of the way to building a recyclable boat. His bet: Maybe in 10 years they’ll be there.

“If we don’t do it in 10 years, I will be very disappointed,” he says. Otherwise, he will retire without having gotten the job done.

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The thrum of the diesel engine reverberated through the teak deck and up through the soles of my heavy furry boots as Passing Cloud slipped smoothly through the almost-black waters of British Columbia’s Seaforth Channel. The Heiltsuk First Nation community of Bella Bella faded into the distance as we headed out on our adventure in the Great Bear Rainforest. Overhead, the skies were leaden, promising rain, much to the joy of the crew.

As a fair-weather sailor, the idea of a rainy week aboard the 71-foot classic wooden schooner sent chills up my spine. But I understood their joy and simply added another layer of clothing.

After all, when summer turns to fall, and wild Pacific salmon migrate toward their native rivers for spawning, “pray for rain” is the cry echoed all around the area. This year, the rivers were too low, causing major concern that the annual rains would be coming too late for the iconic fish.

Salmon are the lifeblood of the area’s First Nation people, who rely on the yearly migrations not just for food, but also as the symbols of abundance, fertility, prosperity and renewal. This all tied into Passing Cloud‘s overreaching commitment of connecting people with nature, fostering stewardship, and reducing their carbon footprint.

This was my second trip aboard Passing Cloud. A couple of years earlier, I was lucky enough to experience a voyage to Haida Gwaii—also known as the Queen Charlotte Islands—an experience I won’t ever forget. When this trip presented itself, I jumped at the opportunity to explore the Great Bear Rainforest in mainland British Columbia.

The Rainforest is a wild and dramatic region, one of the world’s largest, intact temperate forests that covers more than 24,000 square miles of land and sea. The spectacular scenery forms a backdrop for whales, dolphins, bears, wolves, sea lions, sea otters, and a vast variety of pelagic birds that depend on the health and viability of the wild Pacific salmon.

Hence the joyful prospect of rain after the dry summer.

Passing Cloud‘s crew included Russ Markel, skipper and owner of the boat and a marine biologist; Liam Ogle, the widely traveled and experienced first mate; Erin Vickars, our super-­talented Red Seal chef (the designation comes from a prestigious Canadian internship); and Briony Penn, our onboard expert with an encyclopedic knowledge of the flora, fauna and people of the area. And then the six guests, including me, who had flown in from around the world to experience this once-in-a-lifetime trip. They included a couple from South Africa, a single woman from England and a local couple from Vancouver.

It felt good and familiar to be back on board, and as I looked around, I noted the upgrades and other changes that had been made during the intervening couple of years. Most significantly, a set of new, flexible solar panels covered the top of the pilothouse, which significantly increased battery life. They also significantly decreased the boat’s carbon footprint, a major component of Passing Cloud‘s mission.

One of the unique aspects of these adventure trips is that although there is a basic timeframe and itinerary, the tides, weather and animal sightings rule. Insider knowledge and boat-to-boat communications play a huge part, with unexpected sightings and information constantly (and sometimes drastically) altering our route. But the location of whales and other animals one day can change by miles overnight, so there is never a guarantee that the animals will be sighted. The biggest challenge was to spot the elusive “White Spirit,” or Kermode bear, a rare subspecies of the black bear.

According to legends of the Gitga’at and Kitasoo Native ­peoples, Raven, the creator of the rainforest who made everything green, decided to make 1 in 10 black bears white, to remind him of the time when the world was white with snow and ice. Raven decided to set aside a special area of the world for these bears, which is now known as the Great Bear Rainforest.

The general itinerary was to go west, then turn north around Ivory Island, zigzagging up and around Princess Royal Island; proceed east and then south through the Fiordland Conservancy, ducking between Susan and Dowager islands; and then head a few miles north to Klemtu, an isolated fishing village. Then it would be south, and finally back east to end up where we started, in Bella Bella.

Before we were even underway, the steady flow of food began. Erin, our young chef, produced gourmet meals around the clock. From early-morning coffee to a late-evening dessert, the food kept coming. As a professionally trained chef, Erin didn’t simply prepare food—she presented beautifully plated meals.

A new feature of these trips aboard Passing Cloud is that each dinner is themed to express the experiences of that particular day. We had appetizers that depicted birds’ nests on the day we saw the sandhill cranes. And a chocolate-ganache dessert with tiny bear prints on the first day we saw bears. We even enjoyed unique woven cucumber strips topped with creme fraiche and salmon roe, the weaving representing the baskets used by the people indigenous to the area.

But more important, the choice of foods pointed to the sustainability aspect of the trip. As much as possible, food and supplies are sourced locally, which is a feat unto itself, given the remote location. During our eight days aboard, we saw only one other community, Klemtu, besides our departure port of Bella Bella. The menu included fresh local seafood and vegetables, supplemented with foraged greens from shore excursions. Several dinners were vegetarian, going along with sustainability, but Erin is very conscious of nutrition, and the meals were completely balanced. Two large ice chests and a freezer on deck, packed with supplies that were either flown in or brought in by boat, formed the basis of the menu. We were so well-fed that at one stage, I had to ask for smaller portions and declined the between-meal snacks.

As we wove our way up the channel on that first day, the only other vessels we saw were a couple of small commercial fishing boats. Cruising slowly, binoculars and cameras at the ready, we passed by the classic Ivory Island lighthouse, its fresh white walls and bright-red roof shining in the sun that peaked out from behind the lowering clouds.

And then…our first humpback whale sighting. Sharp eyes spied the spray shooting into the air, then the curve of an enormous back slipped above the water, followed by the iconic tail flap. Although they were a distance away, cameras snapped madly. Little did we know how plentiful these gentle giants are in the area and how many we would see.

The humpbacks were hunted to near ­extinction in the mid-1900s, but after a whaling ban in 1965, the population has grown to between 3,000 and 5,000, according to the Department of Fisheries and Oceans. Part of Passing Cloud‘s mission is to educate guests about the wildlife of the area, and true to that mission, Briony produced a large, notated poster of whale flukes, each identified by its particular markings. We compared our own images with those on the poster with some success. Unfortunately, many of the identifying markings are man-­inflicted, because these slow-moving giants are often injured by boats and caught in fishing nets. A recent law requires boats to remain 300 feet from the whales, but because they remain submerged for extended times, it’s sometimes impossible to avoid them, as we later discovered.

Our days took on a certain rhythm. Early-morning coffee, watching the sun rise over the densely forested hills and islands, then perhaps a Zodiac excursion ashore before a hearty breakfast underway. Breakfast time often included a recap of the previous day and a look at the chart for the current day. Then a lunch stop, and on sunny days, we’d enjoy our meal on deck. After lunch, another shore excursion to go looking for bears, then back to Passing Cloud for a snack before our spectacular dinner. Conversation around the dinner table was always lively, with the crew regaling us with local-history observations and personal adventures.

Because of the inclement weather, preparing to go ashore was always a bit of a mission. First came the long underwear and wool socks. Then layers—on top we had a shirt, sweater, coat and rain jacket, and then added rain pants over jeans. On top of all that were knee-high boots, gloves and hat, and a lifejacket. By the time I was suited up, I felt like the Michelin Man. Glamour was not a priority aboard Passing Cloud.

Of course, no one was required to make any of the shoreside excursions, but even on a couple of the days with heavy rain, we all suited up, climbed into the Zodiac for a short ride, then waded ashore, carefully navigating the rocky foreshore. Either Russ or Liam accompanied us, but Briony, our onboard naturalist, was on every excursion, providing an ongoing show and tell. We learned the ways of the black bears, of the sandhill cranes, and how to prepare special tea from what to the untrained eye were just twigs. She showed us wild blueberries, and on occasions when chef Erin came ashore, she and Briony foraged for sea asparagus and other local greens that later that day would grace our dinner plates.

Going ashore was always an adventure. For my inexperienced eye, the trails we hiked were almost impossible to see. But as Russ and Briony led us on these forays into the forest, we learned that these were bear trails, which in itself was a bit disconcerting. We clambered up and down hills, over fallen trees, ducking under bushes and limbs that hung low over the trail.

On one of the more memorable excursions, after landing in a narrow, rocky inlet and wading ashore, with Russ in the lead and Briony bringing up the rear, we hiked to an area known for bears. By this time, the rains had increased the river’s flow and there was hope that the salmon would be starting to make the migration upriver. And if that were the case, then the bears would be ready and waiting for them.

We broke through the dense growth and found ourselves high on a bank overlooking a raging waterfall that tumbled into a rocky pool. This scenario, we learned, was ideal for watching for bears. As we sat quietly up among the trees and waited, a black bear silently materialized on the rocks below us. It ambled along the riverbank and made its way to the pool, where it seemed to contemplate the situation, and then leaped into the water, apparently searching for salmon. As we sat in awe, the bear clambered ashore and spent a while exploring the area. And for a heart-stopping minute, it looked like it was going to climb the bank to depart on the bear trail we had just used. “Just move back from the trail and stay completely still,” Russ told us. The bear seemed to consider whether to come our way, and happily, it chose to go back the way it had come.

Although we weren’t lucky enough to spot a Spirit Bear during our time aboard, we did spend time watching a mama grizzly bear and her three cubs foraging and fording a wide stream to pick wild apples, watched over by literally dozens of eagles that roosted in the trees overlooking the feeding sites. The three cubs acted like typical youngsters, roughhousing and rushing flocks of seagulls nearby, causing them all to take flight.

The area we sailed was so remote that on a couple of late afternoons, coming into our overnight anchorage, we almost felt affronted by the sight of another boat there before us. And traveling through the narrow channels and fjords, we seldom saw any other vessels, so when we spied the Alaska Marine Highway ferry that runs between Port Hardy and Prince Rupert heading our way, we were like school kids, waving to it as it traveled south.

Twenty-plus years ago, this vast area was threatened by overlogging and decimation of the First Nations that have called it home for centuries. During those years, a historic agreement was reached between the B.C. government, the First Nations and environmentalists, which is a road map for other regions of the world. Collaboration resulted in the 2016 Great Bear Rainforest Land Use Order and Great Bear Rainforest (Forest Management) Act, a consensus-based decision-making model that works toward protecting both the cultural and ecological heritage for future generations.

Klemtu, the only community we visited, is a beneficiary of the historic agreement. We were fortunate to visit the longhouse and hear the history of the Kitasoo tribe of Tsimshians, originally from Kitasu Bay, and the Xai’xais of Kynoch Inlet, people who make the enclave their home. And we toured a community-development project, the Spirit Bear Lodge, where our one trinket-hungry crewmember was able to buy a memento. Klemtu is accessible only by boat or seaplane, and very infrequent ferry service.

The Great Bear Sea is teeming with life both above and below. At last count, 210 species of plants, 80 types of birds, 190 marine invertebrate species, 50 fish species, 20 kinds of mammals and reptiles, and 120 different kinds of seaweed are found in this magical place. We cruised the shoreline and meandered through the rocky channels, some so narrow that Liam spent his time as lookout on the bow, ensuring that Russ avoided the numerous unmarked hazards. We passed by a scattering of huge rocks, covered in Steller sea lions, and hung there for a while, simply observing (and smelling) them as they enjoyed the sun that had reappeared. Being so close to shore, we came close to flocks of sandhill cranes without disturbing them. We sailed with a pod of Dall’s porpoises as they went into a feeding frenzy right off the bow. Salmon swam and jumped at the river entrances, waiting for the rain. And overhead, we saw an ever-changing kaleidoscope of peregrine falcons, bald eagles, sandhill cranes, murrelets, shearwaters, cormorants and oyster catchers.

RELATED: The Wild West Coast of Vancouver Island

On our penultimate day aboard, the weather cleared, the sun came out, and the forests and horizons that had looked dark and forbidding lightened up as we sailed under clear skies back toward Bella Bella. It felt so good: the sun warm on my face and the boat so responsive and alive as I drove it to our final night’s anchorage.

Picking my most memorable moment of the trip is difficult. There were so many amazing sights and sounds, but being a Pisces, I have to say that one particular encounter is first and foremost in my memories.

We had numerous humpback whale sightings during the trip, and they were always a thrill to see. But about halfway through the journey, we saw a pod off in the distance as we cruised north. Suddenly, we were surrounded by several of them, really close, almost within touching distance. Russ immediately shutdown the engine, and we simply drifted for an hour or more, with whales cavorting all around us. They came up alongside, rolling slightly, one eye checking us out, then made a slow move underwater, sometimes directly from port to starboard, beneath the boat. Standing at the stern, I watched in amazement as the wheel turned all by itself as the whales brushed against the rudder. Standing there, getting completely drenched in the spray as the humpbacks blew close aboard on either side, I felt as close to nature as anyone could ever be.

Then, sadly, as if on cue, they all sounded, and we were left alone on a silent sea with our most amazing memories.

*Susan Colby is an independent photojournalist and editor who follows the sun, avoiding winter at all costs, while writing about sailing, travel and craft distilleries. *

Heading For Outer Shores

Passing Cloud is a William Roué-designed 71-foot schooner, built in 1974 in Victoria, British Columbia, by Brian Walker. Although designed specifically for cruising, it proved to be surprisingly fast, winning many races in the Pacific Northwest, including the 1984 San Francisco Master Mariners Race, the first non-American boat to do so. Considering Roué also designed the famous schooner Bluenose, this wasn’t surprising. Passing Cloud logged thousands of miles over the years, down the West Coast and south to Tahiti, before returning home to British Columbia, where in 2012 it was bought by Russ Markel, founder of Outer Shores Expeditions, a small-ship, niche-adventure travel company operating wildlife, wilderness and cultural expeditions in British Columbia.

The post Cruising Canada’s Great Bear Rainforest appeared first on Cruising World.

For me, as a resident of the Pacific Northwest, a midwinter sailing escape to somewhere warm makes the cold more bearable. But as an environmentalist, I find the challenge to be escaping the chill without leaving a huge environmental wake. Fortunately, charter companies are actively working to mitigate this challenge. But, as with creating any positive change, success—and vis-a-vis chartering’s long-term sustainability—also requires active user participation.

“Our biggest green step forward [involves] cladding our new monohulls with a vinyl silicone wrap instead of conventional antifouling,” says Andrew Thompson, Horizon Yacht Charters’ director, adding that the company expects these wraps to last for five seasons before needing refreshing. “The wrap is too slick for marine life to adhere to, and any growth can be wiped off with a cloth, no scrubbing ­required,” Thompson says. “This is potentially a game-changing product for both the environment and bottom antifouling performance.”

Additionally, Horizon Yacht Charters purchases biodegradable boat soaps in bulk (read: reduced packaging), enforces a no-bleach policy, and uses water from Nanny Cay’s reverse-osmosis plant aboard all of their charter boats. Additionally, all staff members are issued insulated (and commercially available) water bottles that they refill using this same water.

Other charter companies are planning similar actions. “It’s up to us to pave the way in environmentally friendly charters and bases, and to address the sustainability issues that surround the industry as a whole,” says Dan Lockyer, Dream Yacht Charter’s General Manager. “The impact we make now in reducing our carbon footprint and respecting our cruising grounds will ensure the health of the oceans, marine life, and indigenous plant species for future generations to explore.”

According to Shannan Brennan, Dream Yacht Charter’s marketing manager for the Americas, the company’s board of directors is working on a three-year blueprint for its global ­operations. Examples of its intended efforts include eliminating single-use plastic water bottles by installing watermakers and additional tankage aboard their charter fleet, facilitating waste and recycling at the company’s bases, and stocking all charter boats with biodegradable detergents, shampoos and soaps. Additionally, charterers will receive instruction on reef-friendly anchoring techniques, and on sunscreens and behaviors that won’t harm wildlife.

In terms of operations, Brennan says that the company’s board is interested in partnering with local nongovernmental organizations such as the Association of Reef Keepers and Unite BVI, which are focused (respectively) on preserving reefs and ­endangered-turtle populations in the British Virgin Islands.

While these initiatives are great, it’s critical that charterers contribute. This starts with pre-charter efforts such as researching environmentally benign sunscreens, and continues throughout the charter with steps including properly handling recyclables and other trash, and treading as lightly as possible with wildlife.

Finally, charterers can ­continue to be good environmental stewards by pressing their charter companies to take bold steps such as forgoing ablative paints and single-use plastics. Not only is this the most seamanlike thing to do, but it will also help ensure that midwinter charter escapes continue to be available for all sailors.

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