I was at home trying on outfits, preparing to meet author, yachtsman and YouTuber Christian Williams. My aim, I’d told my wife, was to look nautical, literary or, at the very least, not silly. “Do we own any turtlenecks?” I asked, searching through our closet. 

Emily had left the room, and our 9-year-old son stood in her place. “A turtleneck?” Ezra asked, shaking his head. “Dad, who’s more famous? You or this guy you’re going sailing with?”

Christian Williams is a former newspaper editor and television producer. In the 1970s and 1980s, he was at The Washington Post. He worked on Bob Woodward’s legendary investigative team, and sailed with Ted Turner and won the 1979 Fastnet race. He completed three solo passages from Los Angeles to Hawaii (and back), most recently at age 78. He’s also the author of five books, and has written and produced multiple TV shows. “Oh, and he’s the creator of a YouTube sailing channel with 75,000 subscribers and over 10 million views,” I said. 

“So, he’s way more famous than you,” Ezra said. I stepped toward the mirror wearing the same pants and sweatshirt that I wear five days a week as a stay-at-home dad, daytime sailor and part-time writer. “Well, we’re sort of in different lanes,” I explained.

When I pitched this story to my editor, I was all confidence: I’ll go sailing with Williams, interview him, and explore what a noob sailor like me can learn from a seasoned singlehander. But when the moment arrived to pick up the phone and call Williams, I bit my nails and rewatched some of his sailing videos. I put on the audio edition of his book Alone Together and tidied my apartment. Lunchtime passed. I’d rehearsed my lines and twice microwaved my coffee when my wife advised: “Just listen to some pump-up music and give him a call. You got this, David.”

I left Williams a voicemail. A couple of days later, I was driving through Los Angeles, listening to “Caribbean Queen” by Billy Ocean, when my phone rang. “Yes, I’ll help with the story as needed,” Williams said in his cool, New England accent. 

“Well, it’ll be a fun, lighthearted piece,” I stammered, revealing my own jitters.

“Or it can be as serious as it needs to be,” he said.

I thanked Williams and told him what a big deal this was for me as a fan and newish sailor. “Among my friends, you’re sort of a household name,” I gushed.

“A household name?” Williams said with a chuckle. “Well, maybe only in my household.”

It’s a sunny Southern California Saturday afternoon when I arrive at Marina Del Rey to go sailing with Williams. I stand under a flagpole at California Yacht Club, holding a life vest and a six-pack of beer. In the distance, Williams, down on the dock, is preparing Thelonious II, his Ericson 38.

Since I began sailing two years ago, I’ve had to quit counting the number of people who’ve suggested that I watch Williams’ videos (I have), read his books (I am), or look for him on the water. I’m a bit star-struck when my 6-foot sailing hero appears, walks me down the dock, and welcomes me aboard his boat. “So this Ericson is a 1972?” I ask. 

“It’s an ’84,” Williams says. “Come on inside.”

My gawd, I’ve set only one foot on the boat, and I’m already making unforced errors.

One measure of a sailor’s acumen is technical skills: navigating, trimming sails, reading wind and weather. Another measure, I soon realize, is the ability to welcome others aboard, weave them into the sailing experience, and keep them safe. Williams gives me a quick tour of his Ericson’s wood-trimmed cabin, offers pointers on how to move around the deck, shows me where handholds can be found, and tells me what would unfold in the unlikely event that one of us goes overboard. 

I tell Williams that I’m not planning to fall off the boat today. In fact, I’m not really planning anything. My aim is simply to sail with one of my heroes, soak up the experience, and talk shop over drinks afterward.

Williams casts off the lines and expertly prop-walks his boat out of the slip. As he motors through the ­marina’s main channel, we pass port-to-port with a sailboat that’s dragging six fenders through the water. Williams shakes his head and makes some well-crafted jokes about California boaters. I laugh along. I hope that he doesn’t discover the 2020 magazine cover with a photo of me aboard my newly acquired Cape Dory 25, committing the same sin. 

“Take the helm, would you?” he asks a few moments later. “And take us up to 5 knots.” 

I have to make a lucky guess about which lever is the throttle. Then, standing at the helm, I watch as Williams goes forward, heaves on the main halyard, and raises a crisp, new mainsail. 

Skies are blue. The wind is 10 knots. We’ve just cleared the harbor breakwall and entered the open water of Santa Monica Bay. “Feels a lot like steering a car,” I call out, raising my voice above the breeze as Williams makes his way back to the cockpit.

“Is that how you steer your car?” he asks, cracking a smile. “You wobble the wheel back and forth?” 

I guess I haven’t mentioned that this is my first time with wheel steering, or that the sailing column I write is called “The Noob Files,” or that my most popular story is about crashing my boat into the dock. 

“Well, how do you hold the wheel still?” I ask, seeking expert advice.

Williams tilts his head and considers the question. “You hold it still.”

We both laugh. 

For the next few miles, we sail closehauled, heeled over at 15 or 20 degrees. Williams chats with me about the spoils of Santa Monica Bay (“summer sailing here never gets old”), a few of his favorite things about the Ericson (“its graceful hull form”), and some of the small leaks he chased down during his most recent passage from Hawaii to Los Angeles. After seven decades on the water, he’s calm, cool-headed and confident—approximately the opposite of myself. My first two years of singlehanded sailing have been an emotional roller coaster. At first I feared the wind, then the waves, then the immensity of the ocean. Above all, though, what I’ve feared most is screwing up. Maybe that’s why so many of my stories highlight my mistakes.

While I “steer,” Williams goes forward. He studies his furler drum, gazes up at his new genoa, and then sits on the bow pulpit for a while and looks out at sea. Is he bored? I wonder. Does sailing get dull after one has completed long solo adventures offshore? 

Soon, I’ll ask him. For now, we’re a mile or so offshore in 10 knots of breeze, and the 74-foot Foggy is screaming past us. The boat—designed by Germán Frers with input from its owner, architect Frank Gehry, and built at Brooklin Boat Yard in Maine—is packed with surprises. It has more than 800 pieces of glass flush-mounted on the surface of its teak deck. In the salon, there are colorful carpets and a sheepskin sofa. But what’s really surprising is that, while sailing with a well-known author and yachtsman aboard what many sailors would consider a famous boat, we were both now stargazing.

We’ve gone 3 or 4 miles ­upwind when we reach the Santa Monica Pier. Williams tacks, oversteering a bit to make my genoa trimming easier, then points us back toward Marina Del Rey. With some luck and instruction, I adjust the traveler.

“Well, how do you hold the wheel still?” I ask, seeking expert advice. Williams tilts his head and considers the question. “You hold it still.”

Then, over a couple of beers, we swap stories about the joy of sailing small boats as kids. Williams says that his first boat was a red $20 kayak that his father purchased. Mine, I tell him, was an orange 12-foot Snark borrowed from a neighbor. Eventually, the Williams family would move up from Moths to Penguins to Lightning boats. Then, later, they’d spend New England summers on wooden cruisers exploring Long Island Sound.

“Much of it captured while passing an 8-millimeter movie camera around,” Williams says in one of his videos detailing a family cruise in 1961. “Each roll of film in the camera was 50 feet long and took three minutes of film.”

Six decades later, Williams is still happy to be on the water, and he’s still shooting movies. In videos, he sews cushions, stops leaks and disassembles pumps. He explores how to sail and why we sail, and he muses on philosophy, time, meaning, and memory.

On our homestretch, Williams holds the wheel and handles the lines. For a time, our small talk grows quiet. It’s just the sound of birds and the lap of water. And that’s when it hits me: Nothing crazy is going to happen today. We don’t have 30 knots on the nose. We’re not crossing oceans. No records are being set. 

Maybe it’s all for the better. You see, what’s brought me here isn’t Williams’ achievements or know-how. What’s drawn me is his “knowing that,” his reflective, philosophical side, and the way that sailing seems to have shed light on, widened, and added depth to his life. That’s what I admire and want to explore and emulate.

There’s a harbor breakwall that protects Marina Del Rey’s main channel. After we steer behind it, the wind drops off, the water turns flat, and the Ericson’s genoa sways gently like a curtain. As we drift, one of the sheet lines backs out through a genoa block, escaping slowly before falling silently into the water. 

In a moment, the line will be retrieved. We’ll start the motor, drop the sails, and return to the dock. But what’s the hurry? For now, Williams simply looks down, watching the line as it trails alongside us in the water, perhaps remembering something from a lifetime spent messing about on boats. 

“Should I get that?” I ­eventually ask.

Williams smiles. “Sure,” he says, still gazing into the water. “Why not?”

David Blake Fischer is a “noob” sailor living in Southern California. He hasn’t crossed oceans. In fact, he’s only recently crossed the Santa Monica Bay. Follow him on Instagram as he fumbles out of the channel, backwinds his jib, and sometimes drags his fenders on Delilah, his Cape Dory 25. 

Calamari and Cocktails

Inside California Yacht Club, the author sat down with Williams at a corner table overlooking the slips for a chat.

You’ve said that sailing is an open door to the universe, where life on the other side is forever changed. How has ­sailing changed you or ­transformed your life?

I think it’s fair to say that sailing has sustained me through everything. For some people, it might be love of dogs or something, but for me, through all the ups and downs, sailing was always there because it is that window to the universe.

As a kid, you spent summers sailing with your family on Long Island Sound. What did those early experiences teach you? 

I was fully aware that my father had learned how to sail as an adult. He had come back from the war, probably around age 30, and didn’t know how to do it. It was all learned. Meanwhile, I was 12, and I took to it instinctively. And the overriding message to me was: This is something I can do well. And it sustained me through high school and beyond. Whenever I screwed up something, at least I was good at sailing. 

You’ve raced, completed long passages offshore, chased thrills, and found adventure. Does daysailing on familiar waters get boring after all of that?

You only have to go 1 mile offshore, and you might as well be in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. Your senses pick up the wind and waves, and you find that you’re alone. And, really, on boats from Sailfish to multihull ocean races, as soon as I’m out of sight of land, I feel I’m in the right place to recognize myself. When I’m at a cocktail party, it’s a performance. But offshore, you remove the audience, and you’re just who you are. And that’s more interesting than terrifying. Because you find out you’re just a part of the whole. And believe me, in the city, I don’t feel that way. Life in the city is a constant performance, a competition. Always has been. But if you take anybody and put them alone at sea, they encounter a different universe.

In the 1960s and 1970s, a large number of Americans went sailing. Today, thanks in part to YouTube and the availability of older fiberglass boats, a new generation of people are finding their way onto the water. What wisdom would you offer those who are just getting started in sailing?

When you’re 80, which I am, these things appear to you as aphorisms. It sounds like a Nike slogan, but just do it. If you want to sail around the world, quit worrying about the right boat. Do it in the boat you have. Do it tomorrow. Often, we mistake prudence for wisdom. We spend much of our lives trying to perfect the beginning. I say, quit worrying about it. Do it. You might just learn something and get an accomplishment out of it.

Your videos skewer the notion that singlehanded sailors are fearless stoics, immune to discomfort, content in the ­silence of the universe. What are singlehanded sailors really like?

It would be easier at the age of 30. So there’s that. But seriously, and I don’t mean to get philosophical, but we judge ourselves too much. Everything is a judgment of self, a categorization of our behavior, seeing ourselves in the light of what others might think. But if you’re a singlehanded sailor, 1,000 miles offshore, nobody is judging you. And it’s a great feeling.

There’s a calm vibe to your videos of offshore passagemaking. Are you really that calm out there? Is there an overwhelmed, overreacting or fearful side of Christian Williams? 

Be gentle with me, but I’ve never felt fear out there. On my tombstone, it’ll probably say, “How did he do?” So you put yourself on a sailboat, on an airplane, or speaking before a thousand people: It’s all a test of where you stand in your own universe. How did I do? For me, the fear is humiliation, and the reward is…I did OK. It’s been a beneficial, providential driving force in my life. How far can I push things without screwing them up? That’s good. That’s worth doing. 

How does sharing an offshore passage via YouTube change the experience of solo sailing?

There’s a video gene that desires to document one’s time on Earth. When it comes to sailing, I don’t think anyone has accurately documented it. I’ve made every mistake in the book, and I want people to know what those mistakes are, laugh, and then proceed at a more accelerated pace than I did. But I want them to wind up in the same place, which is, just, the awe of it.

We’re all out there chasing or following after something. For some, it’s peace or tranquility. For others, it’s adventure. What have you been chasing?

For me, sailing has been about opening a door and seeing what’s on the other side. And, as you do, you sense that the door’s not easy to open, and you don’t know what’s on the other side. And you get only a glimpse of it.

You’ve solo-sailed from Los Angeles to Hawaii three times. Have you found what you were looking for?

You come back from a summer sailing to Hawaii and back alone. Your first thought is, I’m never doing that again. It’s really uncomfortable. Two months later, your thought is, I’ve got to do that again. There’s something out there I missed. I didn’t ask the right question of myself when I had the chance. I’ve got to go back. I’ve done this trip three times for that simple reason.

Will there be a fourth trip?

 Maybe.

The post One Mile Offshore With Christian Williams appeared first on Cruising World.

My interest in the global movement of cruising boats goes back to 1987, when I published the results of my first survey on this subject. I have since conducted follow-up surveys every five years. The latest was done in 2016. During this time, the world experienced two major phenomena that seriously affected offshore cruising: the (hopefully short-term) Covid-19 pandemic, and the longer-term climate crisis, whose consequences are expected to get worse.

The pandemic had an immediate impact on the international cruising community and caused havoc among sailors on long voyages. As many popular cruising destinations closed their borders, sailors had to postpone their plans or leave their boats unattended and return home. Those who were allowed to stay had to remain at anchor. There were several reported cases of hostile, unsympathetic attitudes from authorities and local people, even in areas where visiting sailors were previously welcomed. 

In several cases, the planned voyages were abandoned. International cruising traffic came to a standstill, and my own plans for a follow-up survey in 2022 looked like they would suffer the same fate. Even if I managed to get figures from places that had supplied data in the past, in most cases, the figures would be meaningless. 

To get at least a rough idea of the real situation, in early 2022, I contacted some of the most-frequented hubs on the world cruising circuit, such as Panama, Bermuda, Las Palmas de Gran Canaria, Tahiti and Noumea (in New Caledonia, South Pacific). The figures I obtained showed that while some places had fared better, others had seen an unprecedented reduction in the number of visiting boats.

Las Palmas, in the Canary Islands, recorded its highest ever influx in 2021, with 1,256 visiting boats. As the starting point for the annual ARC trans-Atlantic rally, as well as being an important transit hub, this location proved its lasting popularity thanks to the tolerant attitude of the local authorities. A similar situation was experienced in the port of Horta in the Azores, a favorite landfall at the end of a trans-Atlantic passage from the Caribbean. Horta Marina recorded 1,102 arrivals in 2021, compared to 465 in 2020 and 1,132 in 2019. 

But the figures from these traditional Atlantic hubs were not indicative of the situation in other parts of the world. Panama Canal transits of pleasure craft decreased in 2021 to just 806, down from 1,122 in 2020. The drop-off was even more drastic in countries where pandemic restrictions continued into 2021, such as Tonga, New Caledonia, New Zealand and Australia—all of which recorded no arrivals. In Tahiti and South Africa, like at the Panama Canal, numbers were considerably lower than in previous years.

During 2022, as the pandemic appeared to be under control, most countries lifted their temporary restrictions. I resumed my survey by contacting officials in the most significant cruising hubs or transit points in every ocean. I requested the number of foreign-flagged yachts that had passed through those ports in 2022.  

These figures let me construct a picture of the current movement of cruising yachts.  

Atlantic Ocean

The port of Las Palmas in the Canary Islands has a larger concentration of boats preparing for ocean passages than any other place in the world, with the majority of sailors setting off toward the Caribbean. The port authority recorded a total of 1,237 visiting boats in 2022, flying the flags of 44 countries. The largest contingent was from France (266), followed by Germany (194), the United Kingdom (83), the Netherlands (49), Sweden (42), Switzerland (38), Denmark (27), Norway (24), the United States (19), Belgium (17), Poland (16), Finland (14), New Zealand (13), Spain (12), Australia (11), Italy (9), Russia (8), Czechia (7) and smaller numbers from other countries.

Approximately 75 percent of the boats that called at Las Palmas were bound for the Caribbean, either directly or via the Cape Verdes. An increasingly popular intermediate point for a trans-Atlantic passage is Mindelo Marina on São Vicente Island; it recorded a total of 1,120 arrivals in 2022. Located in the northeast trade wind belt, this is now considered to be a better starting point for an Atlantic passage to the Caribbean than the direct route from the Canaries, as the chance of consistent favorable winds is higher, and the distance is shorter. 

Most of the European boats that sail to the Caribbean cross the Atlantic after the middle of November or early December, and complete their Atlantic circuit by sailing to the Azores the following April or May. Horta, on the island of Faial, Portugal, continues to be the preferred landfall at the end of an eastbound trans-Atlantic passage. Horta Marina has been keeping detailed records of visiting boats since 1985, and the latest data made it possible to extract a raft of interesting facts about the boats, their crews and their routes sailed. 

While the total number of boats (1,131) that cleared into Horta during 2022 has not changed significantly, the data confirmed that the majority of boats on passage from the Caribbean to Europe now sail directly to the Azores, rather than via a detour to Bermuda. While Horta has overtaken Bermuda in overall number of visiting yachts, Bermuda continues to be an important transit point for North American boats sailing between the mainland and the Caribbean or Europe, as well as for boats returning from the Caribbean to the United States or Canada. 

The number of boats that called at Bermuda in 2022 was 838, confirming a steady decline since 2000. This drop-off is mainly due to the large number of American boats that bypass Bermuda and sail directly to the Eastern Caribbean. The situation is reversed in May, when more boats returning to the US mainland call at Bermuda. 

More than half the boats that arrive in the Caribbean from Europe or America used to spend at least one full season in the islands, but in recent years, concerns about climate change creating bigger storms have led more sailors to limit themselves to a one-year circuit, be it from Europe or North America. Those who stay longer in the Caribbean usually have their boats stored on land in a secure place during the hurricane season. 

The island of Trinidad has set up several boatyards for this purpose, with 478 boats spending the summer there in 2022—a significant reduction from 2,664 in 2000 and 1,367 in 2010. According to Donald Stollmeyer, former president of the Yacht Services Association of Trinidad and Tobago, ‘The explanation is the gradual decline in the number of sailors who are prepared to keep their boats in the tropics during the hurricane season.” An even more significant reason is the fact that many insurance companies will no longer cover boats during the critical season in the tropics.

Overall, the total number of boats that spend the winter season cruising in the Caribbean has remained relatively stable in recent years. Cuba was expected to see an increase, with hopes that US restrictions on American boats would be lifted, but this has not happened. Even so, Cuba’s eight marinas recorded a total of 284 foreign-flagged yachts in 2022. According to Commodore José Miguel Diaz Escrich of the Hemingway International Yacht Club of Cuba, “We are always happy to welcome and offer our friendship to all those who love the sea.”

A good distance from Cuba, cold-water cruising is becoming more popular as sailors strike out for more challenging destinations. Two high-latitude destinations in the North Atlantic that cruising yachts regularly visit are Spitsbergen, Norway, and Greenland. The former has become the most popular high-latitude destination in the Atlantic, with 52 visiting boats recorded in 2022. Greenland is poised to become more frequented—as an attractive cruising destination in its own right, and as a base for Northwest Passage preparations. In 2022, 14 yachts called at Nuuk, the capital of Greenland, with most of them limiting their cruising to the spectacular west coast. The more intrepid sailors struck out west to brave the Northwest Passage, which has become more accessible in recent years as a result of climate change and ice melt. Four boats completed a westbound transit to the Pacific, while another four boats made a successful eastbound transit. The total of eight successful transits in 2022 compared to zero in 2021 and only one in 2020. 

This newfound success may not last, though, with concerns about pollution from additional cargo and cruise ships, and the impact of cruise-ship passengers on local communities. Small boats may also be affected, as in recent years, there have been a few cases when the authorities have had to assist sailors. All those factors may result in restrictions being imposed on any vessel planning to use this waterway. 

Such restrictions are already imposed at the other extreme of the Atlantic Ocean, where voyages to Antarctica on private yachts are only possible with permission from the national authorities, and the boats must abide by strict environmental protocols. The Argentinian port of Ushuaia, at the tip of South America, is where boats planning to sail south to Antarctica or north to the Chilean canals prepare and provision. The 38 arrivals in 2022 were down from 64 in 2015, and down from the peak figure of 105 in 2000.

Across the Beagle Channel from Ushuaia is Puerto Williams, a Chilean military outpost and the southernmost settlement in the world. The small port is only a short distance from Cape Horn. The Chilean authorities have jurisdiction over the Antarctic Peninsula and parts of Tierra del Fuego, so any boat planning to sail that way must complete formalities here. The movements of all vessels are monitored by the Chilean Navy, which reports that the total of 77 yacht movements in 2022 was well below the 143 recorded in 2015. There was also a significant reduction in the number of private yachts that sailed to Antarctica, from 43 in 2019 to 12 in 2022.

From Puerto Williams and Ushuaia, most cruising yachts heading for the South Atlantic call at Port Stanley in the Falklands, which saw 12 yachts in 2022 compared with 29 in 2015. From there, the routes diverge and either follow the contour of the South American mainland or continue nonstop to the island of Saint Helena or to Cape Town, South Africa. Both of these have seen an increase in the number of visiting yachts, initially because of piracy in the North Indian Ocean, and then because of safety concerns caused by political uncertainty around the Red Sea. 

 The majority of yachts on a world voyage are sailing the Cape of Good Hope route, with 126 yachts calling at Cape Town in 2022. This was a considerable decline from 2010, when 358 yachts stopped there. With the exception of a few boats that sailed directly from Cape Town to Argentina or Brazil, most boats headed north and stopped at Saint Helena, which was visited by 95 yachts in 2022.

Pacific Ocean

The Panama Canal is the most valuable indicator of yacht movement between the Atlantic and Pacific oceans, and on a global level. The latest figures show that the steady increase in pleasure-craft transits peaked in 2010, when 1,177 yachts transited the Panama Canal compared to 919 in 2022. Some 725 were Pacific-bound, and 354 were Atlantic-bound. What has remained unchanged are the Pacific destinations after the transit, with one-third of the boats turning north toward the west coast of Central and North America, and the rest heading for the South Pacific.

The Galapagos Islands used to be a favorite stopover en route to French Polynesia, but restrictions on visiting yachts, complex formalities and associated expenses now deter most sailors from stopping there. There was a record high of 395 in 2010, but the figure for 2022 dropped to 66. 

For those who decide to bypass Galapagos while on route to French Polynesia, the logical option is to sail directly from Panama to the Marquesas. A somewhat longer but potentially more attractive alternative is a detour to Easter Island and, from there, the Pitcairn Islands to French Polynesia. Easter Island, one of the most remote sailing destinations in the world, recorded the steepest decline highlighted by this latest survey. According to the port captain of Hanga Roa, the main settlement and port, “Compared to a record of 79 yachts that called in 2015, only seven stopped here in 2022.” Most of them continued west to the Pitcairns, once the hideaway of the Bounty mutineers, whose descendants live on this remote speck of land and welcome visitors. One descendant, Brenda Christian, emailed me to say: “In 2022, we were pleased to welcome 122 yachts.”

The majority of boats bound for the South Seas, whether from Panama or North America, make their first landfall in the Marquesas. Arriving at those spectacular islands after weeks spent at sea is an awe-inspiring and unforgettable experience. Some 264 boats arrived there in 2022, the majority at Atuona on the island of Hiva Oa. Total arrivals for all of French Polynesia were 404, a significant drop from the record 826 reported in 2010. 

Sailing west from Tahiti, several detours can be made from the main trunk route, such as to Suwarrow, an uninhabited atoll in the Northern Cook Islands where a caretaker is based during the peak arrivals time. Only 16 boats stopped there in 2022 compared with 69 boats in 2015. Another popular place, also in the Cook Islands, is Palmerston Atoll, which was visited by only three boats in 2022, with none in the previous year. This was also the case in neighboring Tonga, which didn’t lift its pandemic restrictions until early 2022. The northern island group of Vava’u, a longtime favorite among sailors, welcomed only 14 arrivals compared to an all-time peak 424 in the previous survey.  

The above places are close enough to the main trans-Pacific route not to entail much of a detour, which may explain why only four boats called at Tuvalu. This small Polynesian community is threatened by rising sea levels from climate change.

Fiji is an important cruising hub in the South Pacific, and its capital, Suva, welcomed 83 yachts in 2022. From there, most cruising boats leave the tropics before the start of the cyclone season and sail to New Zealand or Australia. Both those countries closed their borders at the start of the pandemic, causing mayhem among sailors. The restrictions were only lifted in 2022, when 324 boats were welcomed in New Zealand and 330 in Australia. After no arrivals in 2021, New Caledonia was visited by 241 boats in 2022, a hopeful indication that the situation is gradually returning to normal.

There has also been a considerable decline in the number of visiting boats in the western North Pacific, where weather conditions are noticeably affected by ocean warming. The Philippines now endure tropical cyclones every month of the year, but continue to attract visiting boats, most of them in less-affected areas. On the Asian mainland, the expected boom in visiting cruising boats has failed to materialize, and the figures from Hong Kong show a considerable decline compared to previous surveys. The few foreign yachts that visit Hong King are participants in races organized by the Royal Hong Kong Yacht Club. There has not been much more movement in China, either, since formalities for visiting yachts continue to be complicated and expensive. 

A small number of cruising boats make it as far as Japan every year, with an estimated 12 foreign yachts passing through Osaka in 2022. Most of them continued east, with some stopping at Alaska’s Dutch Harbor on their way to Canada or the US West Coast. Dutch Harbor is a busy fishing port at the eastern edge of Alaska’s Aleutian Islands, and nine yachts visited there in 2022. Provisioning and repair facilities in Dutch Harbor are excellent, making it a good base for an eastbound transit of the Northwest Passage.

Although rarely affected by tropical storms, Hawaii still sees relatively few foreign-flagged yachts. The authorities do not keep a record, and the best guess is that about 20 foreign yachts called at the islands in 2022. Hawaii does attract many mainland boats for cruising and racing. Some sail from there to French Polynesia, and a few continue west toward Micronesia and the Asian mainland. Some of them were among the 14 arrivals recorded in the Marshall Islands, which is a fair estimate of the number of boats visiting the Micronesian islands.

Indian Ocean

The number of foreign-flagged boats has shown a steady decrease in the North Indian Ocean, with most boats on a world voyage sailing the Cape of Good Hope route to reach the Atlantic Ocean, rather than the Red Sea and Suez Canal alternative. By contrast, there continues to be significant coastal traffic, with more local and regional boats racing, cruising and joining the rallies and regattas during the winter season in Western Malaysia and Thailand.

For sailors undeterred by the Red Sea who continue west across the North Indian Ocean, a convenient port is Galle, on the south coast of Sri Lanka, where 23 arrivals were recorded in 2022. Some further detoured to Cochin in southern India, which welcomed 11 boats last year. Djibouti continues to be the only safe haven to prepare for the arduous transit of the Red Sea, and 29 boats stopped here before heading north. All of them made it safely to Suez, Egypt, which recorded 36 arrivals in 2022 compared to 2010, when 171 yachts transited the Suez Canal.

Approximately 250 yachts transit the Torres Strait between Australia and New Guinea every year, and half of them continue west into the South Indian Ocean. The others explore the Indonesian archipelago, where formalities have eased in an attempt to attract more visitors. Even so, in 2022, only 46 foreign vessels obtained the required cruising permit issued by the Indonesian Ministry of Foreign Affairs, compared to 236 in 2016.

Significantly fewer boats stopped at Darwin in Northern Australia, which saw 23 arrivals in 2022 compared to 72 in the previous survey. The Australian outpost of Cocos/Keeling, a popular stop on the world sailing circuit, was also affected by the pandemic, with only 31 arrivals in 2022 compared to 99 in 2015. From Cocos/Keeling, the westbound route splits into a southern branch to Rodrigues in Mauritius, and a northern branch bound for Chagos in the British Indian Ocean Territory. The latter recorded six visitors, a significant drop from the 23 boats six years earlier, as the British authorities now limit permits to those who can justify the need for a stop. The most popular stop along the southern route is Port Louis in Mauritius, with 242 arrivals recorded in 2022, a definite proof of the predominance of the Cape of Good Hope route among boats on a world voyage. 

When discovered as a cruising destination, Madagascar was expected to become the major cruising attraction in the South Indian Ocean, but the lack of facilities and cumbersome bureaucracy dashed those hopes. Nosy Be, an island on Madagascar’s northwest coast, has established itself as a modest base, but few world voyagers bother to make the lengthy detour from Mauritius or La Reunion. Only eight visiting boats were recorded in the Nosy Be area in 2022.

On the eve of the cyclone season, all boats make their way south. In 2022, Richards Bay was the favorite South African landfall, with a total of 103 arrivals. The number of boats that called at Cape Town was 126, of which 123 were bound for the South Atlantic and three for the Indian Ocean. Thanks to the Ocean Sailing Association of Southern Africa, this was one of the few countries that didn’t close its borders to visiting sailboats during the pandemic. 

Sailing Hubs

In addition to highlighting the drastic reduction in the number of cruising boats on world voyages, I noted three other trends: the small size of crew on long voyages, with many couples sailing on their own; the number of couples with young children setting off on a shorter or longer sabbatical leave; and the steadily increasing proportion of catamarans among cruising yachts.

These trends may be related, so I widened the scope of this survey to find out more about the type of boats undertaking long voyages, such average length, crew size, whether they were monohulls or catamarans, as well as the predominant nationalities on board. 

Figures obtained from Panama and Las Palmas de Gran Canaria made it possible to calculate the average length of the boats. To arrive at a realistic figure, only boats under 60 feet were included. The average length of monohulls in Las Palmas was 12.97 meters (42.6 feet), and multihulls were 13.80 meters (45.2 feet). In Panama, the average for monohulls was 15.20 meters (49.8 feet), and for multihulls it was 15 meters (49.1 feet). The average length of boats over 60 feet (18 meters) in Panama was 34 meters (111 feet). 

In Las Palmas, multihulls made up 10.1 percent of the total number of boats, whereas in Panama it was 17.2 percent. The proportion of multihulls was even higher during the ARC 2022 from Las Palmas from Gran Canaria to St. Lucia. Among the 140 boats that sailed this classic route, more than a quarter (36) were multihulls, with 33 catamarans and three trimarans, equivalent to 25.7 percent. The average length for monohulls was 15.7 meters (51.4 feet) and 14.1 meters (46.3 feet) for multihulls. The size of boats taking part in the ARC has been steadily increasing over the years, and in this latest edition, 31 monohulls were bigger than 50 feet, with 22 multihulls more than 60 feet long.

More-efficient and better-equipped boats with reliable autopilots, electric winches, furling gears and other accessories have resulted in fewer crew. This was evident from the crews of the boats that called at Cape Town, having an average of 2.9 crew, while in Saint Helena it was 3.2. In Cocos/Keeling it was 2.5, and in Tahiti, the figure was 2.8. In the latter two cases, more than half the boats were crewed by just a couple.

Another interesting trend is the change in the predominant flags of the boats on a world voyage. Statistics obtained from Gran Canaria, the Azores, Tahiti, Cape Town, Saint Helena and the Suez Canal show that US-flagged yachts have lost the top spot to French-flagged boats, with British and German boats competing for third place. 

Conclusions

Since my first global survey in 1987, the cruising scene has seen important changes. This survey found that in a few places, there has been an increase in the number of visiting yachts, but overall, the figures from Las Palmas, Bermuda, Panama, Tahiti, Cape Town, New Zealand and Australia indicate that the popularity of long-distance voyages peaked in 2010.

The reasons all seem related to safety concerns. Climate change, for instance, is affecting offshore weather conditions. In my latest survey among 65 experienced sailors, I asked how they would plan a world voyage today. Without exception, each one stressed that they would take changing weather into account, but would still leave on a long voyage. They all agreed that proper voyage planning was now even more important, and they were confident that a safe voyage could still be accomplished. 

This global survey also confirmed that since 2010 in some of the most popular cruising destinations, there has been a steady reduction in the number of boats undertaking world voyages. The pandemic had a significant negative impact, so it will be interesting to see whether that changes. After all, boatbuilders are reporting full order books with waiting times as long as three years, and the brokerage market is enjoying an unprecedented boom. Carpe diem!

Described as the bible of cruising sailors, Jimmy Cornell’s book World Cruising Routes is the definitive reference book for long-distance navigators. The latest completely revised and updated edition has drawn on the latest weather information and other recent developments to provide the most comprehensive aid to planning a safe voyage to any part of the world. Get it HERE.

Visit cornellsailing.com for information on Cornell’s Ocean Atlas and Jimmy Cornell.

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The profession of ship’s cat is as old as seafaring itself, with a long history of cats on board not just as companions, but also to help protect crew and cargo from any unwanted pests. Our cat, Leeloo, moved aboard when she was 8 years old and cruised with us for 10 years. At first, we worried about how a cat would tackle long passages, and what to expect when dealing with foreign officials, but cruising with Leeloo turned out to be easier than expected. Although she spent her first few days down below deck, Leeloo’s curiosity eventually propelled her into the cockpit, and it was (mostly) smooth sailing from there. We’ve been asked a lot of questions about having a cat on board. Each cat is different; each crew has a different vision of cruising life. There’s no one answer that works for everyone, but here are some guidelines that worked for us.

Safety On Board

When we first Googled “sailing with cats,” we got millions of hits—about catamarans. The information that actually dealt with cats on board offered some strange strategies: throwing the cat into the sea; cat swim lessons with a life vest. Along with inducing trauma, tossing a cat into the ocean could cause a pet to gulp seawater, and since elderly cats are prone to kidney problems, this is an overall bad idea. Cats instinctively know how to swim and don’t need lessons with a vest, but we ­recommend having a thick rope dangling into the water for a cat to use to climb back on board in the event of an emergency. We added netting around the lifelines because Pitufa’s aluminum deck didn’t provide enough grip for Leeloo’s velvet paws. We bought a harness with a leash before we set out, but Leeloo always stayed belowdecks in rough weather. In her 10 years of cruising, she never fell overboard. We tried taking her ashore in the beginning, but the excursions proved to be too stressful for her, and she hopped into the dinghy and complained loudly until we took her back to the boat. We’ve met adventurous ship’s cats that love dinghy rides and beach walks, so pack a harness and a leash just in case. Prior to overnight passages, we always packed a grab bag with essentials and stored a large dry bag next to it. We would have stuffed the cat in the dry bag if the cruiser’s worst nightmare ever came true for us.

Making the Boat Cat-Friendly

It doesn’t take a lot of effort or investment to make a boat cat-friendly. Adding a few simple things helps them settle in. We installed a cat flap into our bay-mode washboards so that when we locked the boat and went ashore, the cat could still climb up and out of the stuffy cabin. Cats love curling up in cozy hiding places (especially on passages). We kept a few cardboard boxes on board, just the right size for a cat sea berth. We added a tiny garden under the spray hood. The grass gave our cat something to nibble in the event of any fur balls in the stomach. We kept two dedicated scratch boards on deck and added a yoga mat at the base of the companionway stairs for softer landings.

Health

Veterinary clinics are easy to find in Europe, the Caribbean, and South and Central America. In the South Pacific, the situation gets trickier. There are veterinary clinics in Fiji, Tahiti and the Societies, and a small vet center with volunteers in Rarotonga, Cook Islands. There are none in Tonga. Plan on packing pharmaceuticals not just for the human crew, but also some basic medicines for the feline crew (antibiotics, painkillers). Always refer to a trained veterinarian for a diagnosis, and ask a professional whether more easily available human medication can be used on pets. Some human medicines, used in low dosages, are effective and safe for pets. But be aware that some medicines are harmful and even lethal for cats.

Some cats easily find their sea legs. Unfortunately, ours got seasick. In the beginning, she puked on passages—she learned that the sound of the anchor winch meant we were headed to sea, which was enough to send her to her cardboard box, where she would await seasick symptoms with big, round eyes. We discovered that Stugeron (or Cinnarizine, a seasickness medicine for humans) works on cats. We stocked up on a liquid form of Stugeron and gave her two drops before each passage, with another drop after eight hours of rough conditions if needed. She was fine from then on.

Cat Food and Toilet

Although we found canned goods sold in mini markets in even the most remote places, our delicate kitty munched on only high-quality brands, so we had to stock up in cities with pet stores. Fortunately, she loved fish and loudly claimed the first bites of sashimi after each catch. We kept her litter box secured on a nonskid pad below deck. We stocked up on light, silica-gel litter whenever possible and used coarse sand when we had access to beaches without bugs, changing the box every three days.

Bureaucracy

We had our cat microchipped and vaccinated with all necessary shots. We found that most countries checked only for rabies, and we always had her titer certificate, which showed her rabies test. We declared her in all ports of entry throughout the Caribbean, Central America, the Galapagos, French Polynesia, the Cook Islands, Niue and Tonga, and never had any problems. Friends who have sailed farther west in the Pacific reported similar experiences in small island nations. Officials usually checked our paperwork and pointed out that animals must remain on board. Some Pacific destinations are trickier than others: Fiji requires a bond; New Zealand requires some extensive preparations and paperwork; Australia has a long quarantine requirement for pets, with a standard 10-day quarantine for most cats and longer stays possible depending on health issues. It remains a no-go for us. Regulations can change quickly—always check before traveling to avoid ­unpleasant surprises.

A ship’s cat can pose some complications to the cruising life—we’ve had to skip some destinations. We were never able to leave the boat for long periods of inland travel, or leave the boat to visit family back home because we didn’t want to stress Leeloo with long-distance flights, or leave her behind. For us, it was too complicated to deal with cat sitters, but we know other cruisers who’ve had neighbors watch their pets while they were gone. For us, the positive aspects always outweighed the disadvantages: A cuddly ship’s cat adds love and joy to all daily routines. There’s a Scandinavian saying, “A house without a cat is not a home,” and we think the same goes for boats. Of course, life afloat poses some dangers to little tigers, but with a mixture of caution and trust, they can be kept safe on board.

Leeloo died in March 2021 after a decade as a ship’s cat. She never got bored on Pitufa. She never found a single rat or mouse during her long years of duty. She inspected every open locker curiously and supervised each and every one of our jobs on board. She was a happy cat, and we were lucky to enjoy her company for such a long time. —Birgit Hackl and Christian Feldbauer

To read about Leeloo and for ­advice on ship’s cats, read On Velvet Paws Towards the Horizon, available at pitufa.at.

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If you harbor dreams of Patagonian sailing, backcountry skiing, or Antarctic peak bagging, you’re likely familiar with Skip Novak’s Pelagic Expeditions (pelagic.co.uk), which offers high-latitude sailing adventures to charter guests. Novak is a veteran of four Whitbread Round the World Races and has spent the past several decades sailing high latitudes and taking charter guests to some of Earth’s wildest places aboard his Pelagic (54 feet, built in 1987) and Pelagic Australis (74 feet, built in 2003). He was recently involved with the build of Vinson of Antarctica, a Tony Castro-designed Pelagic 77 that was built out of bare aluminum by KM Yachtbuilders, in Makkum, the Netherlands, for owner Nicolás Ibáñez Scott, a Chilean entrepreneur and adventurer. The high-latitude adventure-sailing yacht was launched in February and is named after Mount Vinson (16,050 feet), which is Antarctica’s highest peak.

All told, Vinson of Antarctica measures 77 feet, 2 inches LOA, and carries a beam of 20 feet, 9 inches. It has a displacement of 116,000 pounds.

Vinson of Antarctica employs a schooner sail plan that’s supported by twin carbon-fiber spars that were built by Axxon Composites. This sail plan was specifically designed to evenly distribute working loads so that all running rigging can be hand-controlled via winches. The boat carries a fixed keel box and a centerboard that allows the draft to vary from 7 feet to just over 14 feet, as well as twin rudders. Auxiliary propulsion is tackled by dual 150 hp Yanmar engines, and additional power can be created by the boat’s 9-kilowatt Cummins generator. An aft-mounted gantry supports an expedition-grade RIB, and an additional RIB can be secured to the deck.

The yacht’s accommodations plan includes six staterooms and two heads that can accommodate eight charter guests and three crew. Belowdecks furniture is made from lightweight, strong and sustainable bamboo, however, the vast majority of the boat is built from bare aluminum that doesn’t involve paint or fillers.

Read More: Underway

“It has to be a warm, cozy, comfortable boat but generally simple systems, very strongly built and robust, and bare aluminum,” said Novak in a video interview on Pelagic Yachts’ website. “I think the deck layout is superb…. It’s sort of the same concept as my 74-footer, and it works extremely well. It’s an extremely safe place to sail the boat, [with a] center cockpit and also a forward cockpit for reefing.”

As with Pelagic Australis, Vinson of Antarctica was designed around simple systems that can be crew-maintained in remote areas.

Work began on the schooner in summer 2019. Impressively, the pandemic slowed down its build schedule by only two months. The crew, which is led by skipper Kenneth Perdigon, plans to conduct sea trials on the nearby North Sea before a shakedown cruise to Norway this summer. Then Perdigon and company will sail her to Puerto Williams, Chile, possibly via the Northwest Passage, where she will begin her life as a high-latitude expedition vessel for private and charter trips, and as a platform for helping to train Chile’s next generation of sailors.

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I don’t remember much about our sail down the Baja coast in February 2009. This seems strange because it was five days and nights at sea, our first real passage aboard Kate, our Newport 41. The ship’s log says that we had a fresh 25- to 30-knot breeze for most of the trip. Thankfully, it was a downhill run, and the motion of the boat was comfortable but lively. My husband, Steve, who had much more experience than me, called it a sleigh ride. I thought it felt more like a rickety roller coaster.

The days passed uneventfully, but my solo midnight watches were haunted by stories from my childhood. I saw sea monsters in the green phosphorescence of the large waves that periodically broke close enough to where I sat that I got sprayed with salty monster spit. I heard voices in the cockpit drains, whispering to me the secrets of sailors who had been lost at sea. I sat for hours with my arms wrapped around a winch and my fingers fondling the catch on my safety tether.

I was overcome by everything. By the enormity of the ocean, by the fragility of our boat, by our crazy plan to sail across it. By the beauty of the night sky, by exhaustion, by excitement, by fear. And yet, when we threw down the anchor at 0400 in Cabo San Lucas, at the very southern tip of the Baja Peninsula, I wasn’t ready to stop. Despite the anxiety I experienced while underway, being at sea out of sight of land made me feel full and connected.

Read More: from Heather Francis

Of course, I would spend many more nights on watch before I could put that feeling of wholeness into words. Nights that made us realize we were no longer looking for a home port because we were already home, no matter where we were. Nights that made the decision to turn our 18-month hiatus into a 12-year-and-still-counting way of life an easy one to make. Or perhaps it was the occasional nights spent ashore that made me realize how very unmoored I felt when not on the water.

This past year has been especially difficult. Due to travel restrictions, I’ve been separated not only from the ocean but also my partner. With my feet on solid ground for the past several months, I now feel as though I am completely adrift.

But, like any good sailor, I know this storm will pass. Experience reminds me that soon I will be sailing in the right direction once again.

The post Overcoming the Fear of Sailing at Night appeared first on Cruising World.

You’d be hard-pressed to find a dish more versatile than a frittata, which is probably why so many cultures and cuisines have something comparable. In Spain, tortilla Española is a regular part of a classic tapas spread; China has its egg foo yung; and France, of course, is famous for omelets and quiches.

A frittata is a simple Italian dish that can be served at any time of day. It’s a favorite aboard our wooden cutter, Opus, for either brunch or an equally tasty lunch or dinner, with a green salad and a loaf of good bread. It can be made quickly if surprise guests come aboard; it keeps well and makes a great snack while underway, during any watch. It can be vegetarian, gluten-free, served hot or cold, and made with just about any ingredients you have on hand. The main thing is: Don’t overcook it! You want a creamy, custardy consistency.

Cook’s Notes

If you’d prefer a lighter frittata, consider replacing sausage with 1/2 to 3/4 cup smoked, shredded salmon; add it to pan just before adding egg mixture. For a fancier touch, make a soufflé frittata by separating egg whites and beating into soft peaks before folding into the yolk mixture.

Check out more: Recipes and Food

Sausage Frittata with Spinach, Red Peppers and Cheese Recipe

• 2 Tbsp. olive oil
• 1 cup sausage, sliced
• 1/2 cup chopped onion
• 1/2 cup chopped sweet red pepper
• 2 cups raw baby spinach (or to taste)
• Salt and pepper, to taste
• 8-10 eggs
• 1/4 cup whole milk or cream
• 1 cup fontina cheese, coarsely grated (can substitute Gouda or Emmental)

Yields 6 servings.

Preheat oven to 375 degrees F. In a nonstick, lightly oiled, ovenproof 10-inch skillet (cast iron is ideal), heat the oil over medium heat. Saute sausage until it begins to brown. Add onions and peppers, and saute until slightly soft. Add spinach, and cook down until wilted. Season to taste with salt and pepper.

Break eggs into a large bowl. Add milk or cream and whisk lightly. Stir in 3⁄4 cup of the shredded cheese. (Reserve 1⁄4 cup to sprinkle on top.) Add egg mix to pan, and gently stir to mix ingredients. Cook on medium-low heat until edges just begin to firm up. Top frittata with reserved cheese.

Place on middle rack of oven and cook until center is just set, about 10-12 minutes. (Center might not be brown; this is OK.) Remove and let cool for about 10 minutes if serving warm. Either slide it onto a serving dish or serve from the pan. Cut into wedges and enjoy.

Preparation: at anchor

Time: 30 minutes

Difficulty: easy

The post Galley Recipe: Sausage Frittata appeared first on Cruising World.

Cruising with my family on our Catalina 400, Circe, has taught me the true value of a fresh vegetable. After weeks anchored out in remote Sea of Cortez bays, when provisions have dwindled to a few packets of dried ramen noodles and similarly beige foods, there’s nothing more appealing than the thought of eating something green. Provisioning days are celebrations—and I always make the same dinner: stir-fried veggies with pasta in peanut sauce. To our produce-deprived crew, it’s more decadent than filet mignon or lobster—a perfect way to honor our fresh vegetables.

The real star here is the sauce. Use whatever veggies you have on hand, or toss them with rice or quinoa. Slice vegetables fairly thinly; either parboil the longer-cooking ones first or add the hard ones to the pan first, delicate ones last. Use medium-to-high heat, and stir constantly to keep them from burning. Once the burner is on, the dish comes together quickly. Bon appétit!

Stir-Fry Veggie Pasta with Peanut Sauce

• 2 Tbsp. canola, peanut or sunflower oil (not olive oil)*
• 1 medium onion, sliced
• 2-3 cloves garlic
• 1 1-inch piece of ginger, peeled
• 2-3 cups broccoli florets
• 2-3 cups carrots, peeled
• 5-6 ounces spaghetti

*Olive oil’s smoke point is too low for stir-fry.

For the sauce:

• 4 Tbsp. peanut butter
• 2-4 Tbsp. soy sauce (to taste)
• 3 Tbsp. honey or mirin (see “Cook’s Notes”)
• 1 Tbsp. sesame oil
• Squeeze of lime (to taste)
• Splash of water, if needed to thin

Garnish (optional):

• 1/4 cup peanuts, crushed
• 1/4 cup green onions or fresh coriander, chopped

Serves two. (Doubles easily.)

Prep veggies and set aside in separate piles: Slice onion. Slice or julienne carrots. Cut florets from broccoli head; halve larger florets. Coarsely mince garlic and ginger. (For faster and more-even cooking and to preserve color, parboil carrots and broccoli in adequate water for 2-3 minutes first. Drain and set aside.)

Combine sauce ingredients in a small bowl; taste and adjust all ingredients to your liking. (The sauce will thicken a bit when poured into the hot pan, and the pasta will absorb some liquid.)

Cook pasta, drain, and set aside.

Heat a very large saute pan or wok over medium-high heat. Add vegetable oil, and heat until shimmering. Add onions, and stir-fry for 1 minute or less. Add garlic and ginger, and stir-fry briefly, until fragrant. Quickly add parboiled broccoli, and stir-fry 1-2 minutes. Add carrots, and cook another 1-2 minutes. Add cooked pasta to pan, and toss to mix. Pour in sauce, stirring/tossing to evenly coat veggies and noodles. Turn off heat; remove pan. If sauce looks too thick or grainy, add a splash of water and toss. Serve immediately. Garnish with crushed peanuts, fresh coriander or sliced spring onions, if you have them.

Cook’s Notes

Mirin is a sweet, tangy rice wine. If you can’t get it, use honey and add an extra splash of lime. The peanut sauce keeps for about three days in the fridge, so it can be made ahead of time, or stored if you have sauce left over.

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