I wrote these words in the foreword of my book World Cruising Routes: “Sailing routes depend primarily on weather, which changes little over the years. However, possibly as a result of the profound changes that have occurred in the ecological balance of the world environment, there have been several freak weather conditions in recent years. The most worrying aspect is that they are rarely predicted, occur in the wrong season and often in places where they have not been known before. Similarly, the violence of some tropical storms exceeds almost anything that has been experienced before.” 

I continued: “The depletion of the ozone layer and the gradual warming of the oceans will undoubtedly affect weather throughout the world and will increase the risk of tropical storms. The unimaginable force of mega hurricanes Hugo and Andrew should be a warning of worse things to come. All we can do is heed those warnings, make sure that the seaworthiness of our boats is never in doubt, and, whenever possible, limit our cruising to the safe seasons. Also, as the sailing community depends so much on the forces of nature, we should be the first in protecting the ­environment, and not contribute to its callous destruction.”

It’s been 30 years since then, and every word still holds true. Global weather conditions have seen major changes, especially in terms of the location, frequency, intensity and extra-seasonal occurrence of tropical cyclones. In its sixth assessment on the impact of climate change, the United Nations’ Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change stressed the urgency to act, warning that climate change is causing dangerous disruption in nature, and is affecting billions of people.

Our oceans are getting warmer.

The Arctic ice cap is melting at a faster rate than in any ­recorded time, as reported from Greenland.

The ice shelf surrounding Antarctica is diminishing at an unprecedented rate.

Tropical-storm seasons are less clearly defined and more active. Extra-seasonal tropical storms are more common.

The Gulf Stream rate is slowing down.

Coral is dying because of warming oceans.

According to one recent report, the astonishing pace of warming in the oceans is the greatest challenge of our generation. It’s altering the distribution of marine species from microbes to whales, reducing fishing areas, and spreading diseases to humans.

Warmer ocean temperatures and higher sea levels are expected to magnify their impact and intensity. Areasaffected by hurricanes are shifting poleward. This shift is likely associated with expanding tropics caused by higher global average temperatures. 

According to the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, an increase in Category 4 and 5 hurricanes is likely, with hurricane windspeeds rising as much as 10 percent. Warmer sea temperatures also are causing hurricanes to be wetter, with 10 percent to 15 percent more precipitation from cyclones projected in a 3.6-degree Fahrenheit increase in mean global temperatures.

The timing of the cyclone seasons is an essential factor in ­voyage planning. One result of climate change is that tropical storms are now occurring outside of the accepted time frame. Although the official North Atlantic hurricane season continues to be June 1 to November 30, in the past 10 years, five of the 161 named storms occurred in May. The earliest among them was Tropical Storm Ana, which affected the southeast United States from May 8 to 11, 2015. The latest-occurring hurricane in recent years was Otto, which caused much damage in southern Central America between November 20 and 25, 2016. 

More-active hurricane seasons are also expected in the eastern North Pacific—in the area between Mexico, Central America and Hawaii. The behavior of hurricanes here is similar to that of the North Atlantic, and the critical season, officially lasting from May 15 to November 30, is also lengthening. Among the 205 named storms recorded in the past 10 years, nine have occurred in May, four of them in the first half of the month. The earliest, Andres, occurred between May 9 and 11, 2021, while the latest, Sandra, struck between November 23 and 28, also in 2021.  

These examples have a direct bearing on voyage planning. They show the importance of not arriving in the critical area before early December, and of leaving it before early May. The critical season should be considered to last from May 1 to November 30.

In the Northwest Pacific, the frequency and force of typhoons are also increasing, with some super typhoons having gusts of 200 knots or more. Typhoons have been recorded in every month of the year, with a well-defined safe season now a thing of the past. 

Similarly, in the North Indian Ocean, the severity and destructive power of cyclones have also intensified. The trend in the Southern Hemisphere points in the same direction. In the South Indian and South Pacific oceans, the cyclone seasons last longer, and the frequency of extra-seasonal cyclones has increased. 

I have been monitoring global weather conditions since the 1980s, and I’ve regularly surveyed long-distance sailors for more than 40 years. Most recently, I interviewed 50 sailors about their views on climate change and its effects on future voyages. Most of them are active sailors, with more than half having completed at least one circumnavigation. 

In 2018, a similar survey found a few who had doubts about the seriousness of climate change’s effects, but this time, with one exception, everyone agreed that the threat is serious, not only to future voyages, but also to mankind itself. 

Some sailors also expressed other concerns, such as ­overfishing, widespread pollution, and the threat that rising sea levels pose to tropical atolls and low-lying areas. Another area of concern is the change in attitudes toward visiting sailors. This was highlighted during the pandemic, when many countries imposed restrictions that forced visiting boats to stay at anchor for long periods of time. There were several reported cases of hostility toward sailors from authorities and local ­people, even in areas where previously visiting sailors were warmly welcomed. 

I also asked these sailors whether climate change would influence their decision to plan a world voyage now. With only one exception, they said that while they were aware of the considerable effects, they would still leave on a long voyage. Basic safety measures would include arriving in the tropics well before the safe season, and allowing a safe margin by leaving before its end; avoiding the critical period altogether; monitoring the weather and having a Plan B; and making sure their insurance company agreed with any plans they made to leave the boat unattended.

Ric De Cristofano, director of underwriting at Topsail Insurance in the United Kingdom, tells me that climate change is likely to be the main topic for insurers throughout the next ­decade. Internal models at these companies are forecasting higher frequency and severity of hurricanes, and even of lesser weather events such as electrical storms.

“The impact on boat owners planning to go cruising will be both direct and indirect,” he says. “The former is likely to include increased coverage restrictions along the lines of no Caribbean windstorm cover, and for such risks to be rated higher by insurers. As for the latter, the insurance industry is preparing itself for large and catastrophic insurance events to become more frequent, which ultimately will lead to cost increases across a whole range of services.”  

The sailors whom I surveyed all stressed the even greater ­importance of having reliable access to weather information in this world of changing conditions. PredictWind is the most popular source of weather data and forecasts for sailors on ocean passages. Nick Olson, business development manager at PredictWind, says that, yes, weather events will become more extreme, “but that is the type of event we aim to avoid already.”

PredictWind will have new tools aimed at extreme weather coming online soon, he says: “One will alert you when there are certain factors, which could produce extreme weather that would trigger potential thunderstorms. Another extreme we might see is having more light winds. Our departure-planning and ­weather-routing tools both rely on forecast modeling, which will adapt to climate changes and predict the expected conditions like they do now in producing the short-term forecasts.”

One visible result of climate change is the increasing number of sailors heading for high latitudes, to capitalize on more-­favorable polar conditions. I benefited from this myself with the successful transit of the Northwest Passage in 2015, which was possible as a direct result of climate change. 

Voyages to Antarctica fall into a similar category, and no one is in a better position to comment about that region than Skip Novak, widely considered the world’s authority on high-latitude sailing. He sees weather and sea-ice concentrations changing.

“For those of us who sailed regularly in the Southern Ocean from 40 years ago, the consensus of colleagues is that sea ­conditions seem much more volatile than before,” Novak says. “One theory of substance is that in the Southern Ocean, the westerlies are being compromised by winds pushing through this band from the north, certainly more often than in previous decades. This causes the steady, long swells that we have formerly experienced to be less consistent with more ­washing-machine-like conditions.”

It’s tricky to postulate on sea-ice concentrations for ­navigation. Novak says that for sure, temperatures on the Antarctic Peninsula have spiked from 40 years ago, but this does not necessarily mean less sea ice in any given year. A cold winter and lack of strong winds from spring into summer will leave inshore waters ice-choked, sometimes into late January. 

“It remains, as it has always been, the luck of the draw on where you can go,” Novak says.

Some of the more-experienced sailors in my survey, such as Pete Goss of Pearl of Penzance, a Garcia Exploration 45, stressed the importance of “having a well-built, strong boat that you have confidence in and that would be able to stand up to the weather, and ensure you survive it.”  

Retired French Admiral Eric Abadie, currently on a world voyage on Manevaï, a vintage Garcia Nouanni 47, was more concerned about “the impact of climate change in the countries we plan to visit, and even more by the resulting political instability caused by it. For me, the answer is very simple: It’s on the water that I am truly happy. And that will not change.”

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Where does the fabled Northwest Passage—that ­tenuous, long-sought sea route between the Atlantic and Pacific oceans—­properly begin?  

For the keepers of official records, jealously counting how many of each sort of boat makes the transit each year, the answer is the Arctic Circle, at 66°30′ N. It begins when you cross into the Arctic going northward, and it ends when you cross out of it again southbound, 100 degrees of longitude away.

Others—often those attempting to kayak, paddleboard, kitesurf or dinghy across—count it from Pond Inlet at northern Baffin Island to the hamlet of Tuktoyaktuk, which is nearly on the US-Canada border. That’s a far shorter distance, and it cuts out nearly 1,000 miles of the difficult coast of Alaska, not to mention about 500 miles on the Atlantic side. 

Surely, we can forgive those with the audacity to try it in any sort of open craft. With our Stevens 47, Polar Sun, however, although we had crossed the Arctic Circle halfway through a cruise of Greenland’s coast from Nuuk to Ilulissat, we didn’t feel like our bid for the passage had properly begun until we wriggled out of the untidy raft-up of sailboats at the fish wharf in the inner harbor at Ilulissat. It was midafternoon and raining lightly as we dodged past icebergs at the harbor mouth, but neither time nor atmospheric moisture matters a whole lot in a place where the sun doesn’t set and you’re bundled head to toe against the cold anyway.

Having been going hard for weeks on end, with uncertainty and ice and everlasting cold, it was the longest sailing leg of my life.

We were bound across Baffin Bay for Pond Inlet, a four-day leg that took us closer to seven, and taught us that just because we’d gotten to Ilulissat ahead of schedule didn’t mean we were always going to get easy sailing.

We were used to icebergs by then. They’re mostly huge and visible. They’re easy to sail around, and their dangers are predictable and avoidable. But halfway across Baffin Bay, we encountered pack ice for the first time. We found it a far more chilling prospect. Being mostly flat and close to the surface, it doesn’t show up well on radar or forward-looking sonar, and it tends to hang tight. If you see one floe, there’s probably a whole bunch of them nearby, drifting amiably around together.

By the time we beat our way against a 20-knot breeze close to the craggy Baffin Island shore, we were hardly surprised to find icebergs drifting amid the barrier of pack ice that blocked the shore. Who says you can’t have it all?

When we had finally worked our way through the ice and up along the coast for another day, we were in for several surprises. The first was that a brand-new harbor with breakwalls and docks had just been built at Pond Inlet, so we didn’t have to anchor in a rolly roadstead like we had expected. The second was that although the town there was relatively close to Greenland, it couldn’t have been more different than the ones we’d just left. Lacking the warm current that Greenland enjoys, this area stays locked up in ice most of the year. There isn’t a whole lot to do in one place, and it’s easy to see why the native Inuit were once nomadic. It makes sense in a place where nature is so savage.

Pond Inlet was the first of only four settlements we visited in the next 2,000 miles. Between them lie mind-numbingly vast stretches of barren, cliff-filled islands where even lichens struggle to grow in the whorls and rings of frost-heaved gravel.

We didn’t linger too long in any one place—at least, not by choice—but ­hastened always, feeling the shortness of the navigable season, and knowing that the later we got to the Bering Sea, the ­better chance we had of getting clobbered by something nasty. After an iceberg-­fraught, lumpy, breezy passage of the Navy Board Inlet, we had an ­exceedingly pleasant sail diagonally up Lancaster Sound to Beechey Island.

Between the Beechey and King William islands is where the most pack ice can be expected. Some years, it’s so abiding that no small boats get through. We were lucky. A violent south wind flushed all the ice out of Peel Sound, our projected route. After a day anchored in Erebus and Terror Bay, a band of pack ice that had barred the way opened up just enough for Polar Sun to get through.

I had always heard of iceblink, a ­phenomenon where distant pack ice throws a glow along the horizon, making it impossible to judge how far off it is. I had thought I wanted to see it someday, but I realized as we raced toward the rapidly shrinking opening to Peel Sound that I could have done without it, at least when a fogbound island, a foul current and a whole lot of ice coming out of the blink were converging on Polar Sun.

It wasn’t the last time we would squeak through a narrow gap at the last minute. The next 500 miles saw us often in and out of ice. Twice, we were denied passage out of a bay where we ultimately spent nine days trapped in the pack, shifting from one ice floe to another. We almost didn’t make it out of there at all, and when we did, it was to find the way nearly shut farther along.

At last, though, we made it to Gjoa Haven on the south side of King William Island. We sighed with relief that the ice, at least, would trouble us no more—but given the trouble we did see for the next several thousand miles, perhaps a little ice would have been the least of it.

What we hadn’t accounted for was that Gjoa is barely halfway across the Northwest Passage. There was still such a long way to go, and now, each night was dark for a little longer than the prior.

Given the lateness of the season—those nine days in the ice had really set us back—we considered leaving the boat in Cambridge Bay for the winter, but the crane that had once hauled the occasional stray sailboat was no longer there. To leave the boat in the water would be to lose it. We had already lost two crew, who had to return home for work, and couldn’t lose the time to find more.

So, Mark Synnott, the expedition leader, and I doublehanded the six weary days to Tuktoyaktuk. It’s not that doublehanding is normally that bad, but having been going hard for weeks on end, with hopes raised and dashed, with uncertainty and ice and everlasting cold, it was the longest sailing leg of my life. Before we finally rounded Cape Bathurst and raced with a strong following wind into Tuk, we had spent eight hours hove-to in a midnight blow, overheated the engine, sailed the wrong direction with a lee shore wherever we could point the bows, and did I mention the cold?

Tuktoyaktuk is on the shallow, oil-rich shelf of the Beaufort Sea. The channel barely carries 2 fathoms into the harbor at the best of times. This was not one of those times; the strong wind that rushes unopposed over the featureless peninsula tends to blow water out of the harbor. Polar Sun grounded gently just abeam of the half-wrecked public wharf. We got lines ashore to take in when the tide should float her again, and we went ashore to eat with the relief crew, who had flown out to meet us.

Without that extra crew, that last leg across the north coast of Alaska and down to the Bering Sea would have been not just exhausting, but also dangerous. Even with the new life that David Thoresen and Ben Spiess breathed into our souls, the strong following wind and seas required constant watchfulness. We rounded Point Barrow, the northernmost point in Alaska, in a welter of muddy, breaking waves, with sleet whitening the weather side of every shroud and halyard. We had thought of stopping in Barrow for a rest, but the seas were too rowdy along the shore. Besides, the wind was fair to sail south, and south is where we wanted to go.

South, that is, until Point Hope, where we needed to tuck in and hide from a typhoon—yes, a typhoon. It had strayed beyond its reasonable bounds into the Bering Sea, not only bringing record flooding to the coastal communities, but also having the audacity to pass through the Bering Strait into the Chukchi Sea, where Polar Sun sheltered in the tenuous lee of a permafrost-topped sandbar.

The eye of the storm, still well-defined although weakening, came abeam of our anchorage and made it untenable. We weighed anchor for the last time and sailed deep-reefed straight toward the center of it. Tacking some hours later to claw across Kotzebue Sound, we had occasion to wish that Cambridge Bay had worked out. The wind drove Polar Sun farther from the Bering Strait, toward a shoreline guarded by poorly charted shallow sandbars and lagoons.

It was nearly dark when the wind relented enough that we could make a run toward Cape Prince of Wales. That was the last obstacle, and we hand-steered around it in pitch-blackness, hugging the shore as close as we dared to avoid a current offshore. With the lights of Wales close abeam, and with Polar Sun surfing at 9 knots down-sea, we were grateful that we couldn’t see.

Once properly in the Bering Sea, all the jumble of the strait settled down, as if turned off with a switch. We motored sedately into Nome, Alaska, in the late afternoon, just hours ahead of the next southerly gale that pounded that ­unforgiving coast.

For the record-keepers, the Northwest Passage was officially completed halfway across Kotzebue Sound, when Polar Sun crossed the Arctic Circle just north of the Bering Strait. For Mark and me, the only two of the 12 people on the trip to sail every mile, it wasn’t fully over even in Nome. There were sails to unbend and stow, halyards to messenger out. A whole winterization had to be done, and there were long flights, which undid in 12 hours the distance we had taken 112 days to sail, to endure.  

Where does the Northwest Passage end? For me, at least, it ends when you get home. 

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There’s big news at MarineMax Vacations—54 feet worth, to be exact.

Recently, the company introduced the MarineMax 545 to its charter fleet. It’s a five-stateroom Aquila power catamaran that sets a new standard for elegant cruising, with amenities such as full-size refrigeration, individual air-conditioning controls in each stateroom, 6-inch-thick queen- and king-size mattresses, and more.

The MarineMax 545 is available for crewed charter bookings, in addition to bareboat bookings. The crewed bookings are another new option at MarineMax Vacations, giving clients all the fun of a charter vacation with a skipper and mate/chef to handle all of the onboard tasks.

“The carefully selected crews enhance the vacation experience, and include professional captains and culinary experts familiar with secret anchorages,” says Raul Bermudez, vice president of MarineMax Vacations. “The guest experience promises to be remarkable. From expertly prepared menus tailored to specific guest needs to extensive local knowledge and guide services for snorkeling, hiking or simply unplugging, these crews are top-notch, and we are so excited to introduce them to our loyal, enthusiastic guests.”

Booking a crewed MarineMax 545 “really is a higher-level charter experience,” says Madison Hackett, content and experience coordinator at MarineMax. “You always have a drink ready or an appetizer coming.”

A virtual walk-through of the MarineMax 545 is available on the company’s website, so charter clients can get to know the boat well in advance of stepping on board. The master stateroom is forward on the main deck, with views of the yacht’s surroundings in just about every direction. Each of the guest staterooms on the lower deck has a private bathroom, along with hanging lockers, drawers and cabinets to provide charter guests with plenty of stowage. 

The communal guest areas are also spacious and bright, with indoor dining in the salon as well as outdoor dining with extraordinary views from atop the flybridge, where there’s a wet bar and a grill.

Chefs aboard crewed yacht charters can cook meals from up there, or use the spacious, open main-deck galley to create memorable menus that are tailored to clients’ individual tastes. Clients with MarineMax Vacations will be asked their food preferences and dietary needs in advance of the charter booking so that the chef can provision the boat specifically with foods they like—and prepare recipes that are an ideal, customized fit for meals and snacks at all times of the day.

Just a small sample of options that are available for breakfast: a BLT with Dijon mayonnaise and arugula, served with truffle chips; or mini frittatas with ham, cheese, tomato, spinach, bacon and cheddar; or breakfast burritos with scrambled eggs, avocado, beans and spicy potatoes. For lunch, clients might select a seared tuna Niçoise salad with homemade garlic bread; or chicken gyros served with pita bread, tzatziki and a fresh Mediterranean salad; or lobster tails with garlic-butter sauce, grilled pineapple salad and honey dressing. Midafternoon snacks could be a charcuterie board, canapes or sliders. At night, the chef can prepare a multicourse dinner of, say, a caramelized onion and brie tart appetizer followed by main dish of pork tenderloin in honey-garlic sauce with a cauliflower puree and roasted sweet potatoes, and, finally, a dessert of white-chocolate mousse served with passionfruit and pistachios. 

And in between all those delicacies, clients can be as active as they want to be with swimming and watersports, head ashore to explore, or simply relax in the sun on board. Dining ashore is also an option, if guests would like to enjoy some time off the boat in a local setting. 

“Having the crew gives you a lot more time to actually have a vacation,” Hackett says, explaining how the crewed-charter experience is far different from what longtime bareboaters are accustomed to doing on board. “You’re not looking for mooring balls or checking watermakers. You get all of that time back.” 

The length of a crewed charter aboard a new MarineMax 545 can be fully customized for up to three weeks. Many clients choose one week, with longer itineraries making it possible to explore farther-in the Virgin Islands such as Anegada. 

Some clients also choose a “surf-and-turf”-style vacation, with part of it taking place aboard a MarineMax 545 and part of it happening at an Airbnb in a destination such as Oil Nut Bay on Virgin Gorda. In many cases, Hackett says, the boat’s crew can drop off guests right at the Airbnb for a seamless multiweek experience. 

Whether you prefer to take the helm or charter your next vacation, the team at MarineMax is there to provide unmatched service. “Focusing on maintaining the MarineMax standard with quality, trained and local professional staff has built a team unlike any other in the territory,” says Raul Bermudez, vice president of MarineMax Vacations. “Our staff at the base is among the highest caliber in the Islands. Our customer-service specialists have deep relations and connections across the island chain to deliver your every desire. And our factory-trained technical staff stocks an abundance of on-hand parts to keep vessels in top shape and ensure efficient and reliable service. No one in the business has this level of commitment to delivering reliable and professional charter experiences.”

For more information and booking details visit marinemax.com/vacations.

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When my wife, Catherine, and I lived in New York over 14 years ago, we never anchored Dream Time by the Statue of Liberty—not once. We never even considered it. It’s not that we didn’t have the skills, or that the 25-nautical-mile trip from Long Island Sound down to New York Harbor is particularly challenging; it just never really occurred to us that we could.

New York City was where we went to work; the harbor was a place where ferries, cargo ships, tugs and tourist boats went about their busy business. I guess when we did have any free time, we wanted to sail in the sound and just relax in a quiet cove somewhere. Taking the boat down the East River, timing tides, dodging traffic, well, maybe it just felt like too much work.

But here we are. It took us a while—a 14-year world voyage, which we’ve just completed—but we finally did it. We anchored Dream Time, our 1981 Cabo Rico 38, right in front of Lady Liberty between the ferry channel and the restriction-area buoys that surround Liberty Island. It reminded us of anchoring on the other side of the world, off the Sydney Opera House for New Year’s Eve after we had finally crossed the South Pacific. Like then, we had the best view in the entire harbor—only this time it was the Statue of Liberty right off our stern, downtown Manhattan, the Hudson and the East River off the port bow.

To celebrate our arrival back home after sailing 50,252 nautical miles, we raised every courtesy flag we’ve flown around the world—37 of them. We must have looked quite the sight. Other boats motored past; Miss New York—one of the Ellis and Liberty islands’ ferries—official tourist boats, jet skis, and a parade of helicopters flew endless sightseeing circles above. And Dream Time, in all her colors, was right in the very middle of it.

For the record, we weren’t in the way—we were anchored in 10 feet of water and out of the channel —but I suspect, 14 years ago, even if we had visited Liberty Island, we never would have been so bold. Ferry wakes, tidal currents and the general mayhem of the harbor probably would have had us anchor behind Liberty Island where other recreational boats seem to drop their hooks.

Maybe we’re a little more adventurous now. Or perhaps, like our arrivals in Panama, Sydney Harbour and Singapore, we just want to get the most from our sailing experiences. We’re willing to go the extra mile, to make the effort, like two energetic, enthusiastic cruisers arriving in New York for the very first time, even though we now live here again.

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Andreas B. Heide has led several expeditions to the high latitudes aboard his Jeanneau 37 Barba. His most recent adventures have taken him on winter voyages to far northern Norway to swim with orcas and humpback whales. During our conversation, he shares photos and videos of those adventures.

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Longtime Cruising World contributors Carolyn and Cap’n Fatty Goodlander talk about their current circumnavigation, sailboats and their life at sea with editors Herb McCormick and Mark Pillsbury. This is the latest episode of Cocktails with Cruising World, a webinar series featuring sailors, writers and friends.

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Sailing circumnavigators Behan and Jamie Gifford join Cruising World editors for an episode of Cocktails with Cruising World, a webinar series that features contributors and sailors from all corners of the world. The Giffords are presently aboard their Stevens 47 Totem in the Sea of Cortez. They talk about the cruising scene in Mexico during the COVID 19 Pandemic, their eight-year circumnavigation, and their exchanges with other cruisers.

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Stretching throughout the Caribbean, the British Virgin Islands are a kaleidoscope of aquamarine waters, sun-soaked harbors, and white-sand beaches. It was here where The Moorings first started more than 50 years ago with a small fleet of monohulls and from where it grew to the premier charter company it is today. Nowadays, with more than 200 yachts, the marina on Tortola is still the largest amongst the 20 bases that The Moorings calls “home”.

Since the hurricane that hit the BVI in 2017, the resilient islands made a fantastic comeback and guests can be sure to receive all support needed to make their trip a smooth cruising experience from beginning to end at The Moorings base location in Road Town.

Under a new name—the Mariner Yacht Club—the restaurant, pool, and bar area in the center of the marina property have undergone a complete renovation, giving it a clean, modern, and inviting aesthetic. It is the perfect place to lounge and unwind after a long day of traveling or enjoy one last cocktail before catching your flight home.

The provisioning store has moved to a more convenient location on-site and was greatly increased in size. An upgrade to multiple industrial-sized washers and dryers, which also have automated ironing capabilities, help the Tortola cleaning team save precious time and effort in order to get guests off the dock on time.

The Mariner Inn hotel which was heavily impacted by Hurricane Irma has undergone a full renovation in the months since too. All garden and marina-view rooms have received a full upgrade and retrofit, making the hotel once again one of the premier accommodation options on the island.

With a few exceptions all bars and restaurants have reopened since the storm, and with all-time favorites like the Cooper Island Beach Club, Soggy Dollar, and the Willy T on your cruising itinerary and a private vacation platform under your feet every day is a fun day in the BVI.

Whether guests are interested in the freedom of a sail-it-yourself bareboat yacht, the all-inclusive luxury of a crewed yacht with captain and chef, or the speed and convenience of an innovative power catamaran, The Moorings is proud to offer premier quality yacht charters all around the world catered to the unique needs of the individual traveler.

Learn more about The Moorings’ premier yacht charter vacations and all locations worldwide at Moorings.com.

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Early May 29, 2018, world-famous author of sailing and boating guides, Stephen J. Pavlidis, 65, passed away after a long period of failing health. According to his publisher, Joseph F. Janson of Seaworthy Publications, “Steve was one of the hardest working individuals I have ever known. Even while his health was failing, he continued to work on projects and co-authored a new book, The Captain’s Guide to Hurricane Holes, that was published in 2018. He had a brilliant mind and was a unique combination of writer and cartographer in one person”.

In total, Pavlidis wrote more than a dozen legendary cruising guides covering The Bahamas, Turks and Caicos, Dominican Republic, Puerto Rico, Virgin Islands, Windward Islands, Leeward Islands, and a region he described as the northwest Caribbean that includes the Cayman Islands, Jamaica, Guatemala and the Rio Dulce, as well as Honduras and the Bay Islands. His work has long been described as the best available references for cruising the Bahamas and Caribbean. According to Janson, “Steve personally sailed to and visited each place he wrote about and drew over 500 detailed charts covering his journeys. Seaworthy Publications will continue to keep Steve’s guides up to date as Steve always did his best to ensure. Steve was more than a good writer; he was also my friend. He will be sorely missed.”

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There’s something very French about no-nonsense aluminum cruising boats, perhaps because the vast majority of them are built in France. The very best examples are rugged yet refined, handsome yet utilitarian, and are equally at home either crossing the open ocean or tucked into a secluded cove. When you come across a bare brushed-aluminum hull in a distant anchorage, you just sense that the sailors on board will have an adventurous tale to tell.

At least that’s my impression. And when I first inspected the new Allures 45.9 at last fall’s U.S. Sailboat Show in Annapolis, Maryland — yet another offering with a ­decidedly French pedigree, starting with its prolific Gallic designer, ­Olivier Racoupeau — nothing about the yacht’s purposeful lines or inviting interior dissuaded me from that opinion. For long-range cruising, inside and out, the Allures represents the best of two worlds. It really fits my definition of a bluewater cruiser.

With an extended bowsprit ­forward (for flying off-wind sails and housing the ground tackle, which consists of an optional self-­launching Rocna anchor) and a nifty arch aft (perfect for antennas, a wind generator and solar panels, while doubling as dinghy davits), the Allures 45.9 is clean and functional at both ends. In between, there’s no lack of spiffy features and attention to detail.

Working from the bow aft, the double-spreader deck-stepped mast features a Solent rig with a pair of headsails, both on furlers. A copious sail locker is fitted with a crash bulkhead. The faux-teak deck is a ­product called Marinedeck, a good-looking cork-and-resin composite that doubles as excellent ­nonskid. There’s a solid vang on the boom that also features a Walder boom brake, which tames the spar when jibing. A pair of safety rails at the mast are properly sized and spaced, and provide plenty of support when working forward. The traveler is stationed on deck just forward of the generous dodger.

The cockpit is very cool. The companionway includes a two-piece acrylic slat that disappears into the deck when not in use. The color-­coded vang, mainsheet and reefing lines are led to a suite of winches and clutches to port and starboard on the coachroof. The port locker also houses an opening hatch to the technical room down below; aft of the starboard locker is a nifty nook for stowing the dinghy outboard. The twin helms, affixed to a pair of ­rudders, are within easy reach of a pedestal just forward of the wheels that control the headsail sheets via a set of Lewmar winches. The walk-through transom leads to a built-in swimming/boarding platform. The underbody of the boat we inspected had the standard skeg/centerboard configuration, though a ballasted swing keel is also an option.

Down below, there are three accommodations layouts from which to choose (basically, you can go with two or three cabins, and one or two heads). Our test boat was a two-cabin model with a large single head to port of the companionway. Aft of the head was the aforementioned technical room (you could also opt for bunk beds instead), which was really terrific. It’s a place to work and store tools that are going to get oily and messy while separating them from the ­other ­living spaces. The generator ­also lives there, and there’s even room for a washing machine should you so desire.

Stepping down below, you are greeted by an interior ­layout that belies the workmanlike appearance of the robust topside. In other words, it doesn’t look like an ­expedition boat but rather a contemporary cruising boat with accouterments that wouldn’t feel out of place on a modern, French production model from builders such as ­Beneteau, Jeanneau or Dufour.

In the main saloon, to port is the straight-line galley; the back of a long, amidships settee provides support for the cook when working at sea. To starboard is a raised navigation station (something you see less and less of on new boats) with seats both fore and aft of it. A large L-shaped settee is forward of the nav table, with a drop-down table that allows for a giant double berth in its lowered position. All three versions include a luxurious forward stateroom, with or without an adjacent head.

The construction of the ­Allures 45.9 is straightforward: The hull and transom are welded aluminum, while the deck and coachroof are fiberglass with a foam core. Down below, for sound and weather insulation, the hull is insulated foam with neoprene.

We sailed the boat in ­rather disappointing conditions on Chesapeake Bay, with winds that hovered in the 5-knot range. Surprisingly, even in the light airs, the Allures ghosted along at better than 3 knots. The centerboard is a neat feature because it provides a bite to windward when lowered but can also be raised when reaching or running off the breeze. And, of course, it allows access to shallow anchorages that are out of bounds to other boats of this size.

The Allures 45.9 is imported into the U.S. market through a sole distributor, Swiftsure Yachts, based in Seattle. But the sales reps at Swiftsure say most new owners take delivery of the boat in France, cruise the canals and coastline, then sail across the English Channel to Great Britain, where it can be loaded on a ship to cross the Atlantic in less than a week.

That sounds like a pretty good plan to me. Though, of course, you could also opt to sail the boat home as well. The Allures 45.9 can handle whatever comes its way with style and aplomb.

Specifications:

Allures Yachting
206-378-1110
swiftsureyachts.com

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