A look at a boat

Weather dictated that some VIPs who really, really had be in Ft. Lauderdale Tuesday afternoon needed to leave St. Louis Monday afternoon. Tuesday morning's forecast included things like snow, 1/2 mile visibility in fog, icy runways and taxiways, and 4 to 6 inches of accumulation making it difficult to even get to the airport. Sometimes the most professional decision for the pilot in command of a high tech jet is to run like a frightened little bunny rabbit, a day early and some 400 knots over the ground, 7 miles in the sky.

Which means I had all day Tuesday to keep myself busy. Mmmm... what to do? Yacht World listed a 1991, 39' Fountaine Pajot Fidji for sale at $132,000, just waiting to be looked over barely an hour's rental car drive away from the hotel. Deb and I have been curious about the Fidgi, but all we knew was based on pictures of the few that show up for sale. Seeing one "in the flesh" was a chance not to be missed. And one never knows, maybe I would find a new model of boat (and maybe this very boat) to move to the top of the "this could be the one" list.

A phone call or two later and a visit was arranged with the owner, who was in town for one more day checking on his boat. The Old Port Cove Marina in N. Palm Beech was a bit overwhelming for a lower rent live-a-board wanna-be like me. Towering condominiums, expensive looking single family units, and a massive marina filled with Million Dollar Babies were all safely ensconced behind a manned guard gate. The guard had my name and issued me a little temporary permit so I could park my rent-a-car in the lot without it being towed. (At the owner's expense which, in this case, I assume, would be me.)

Peter and his wife however, were a delight. After introductions they allowed my scruffy self aboard ONSA. (I dress up pretty to fly the jet.) Peter has done some serious refitting to his Fidgi, sails, engines, electronics... all things that would normally need addressed on a used boat. The galley stretching across the a aft wall of the bridge deck saloon always looked like a good idea in the pictures. Turned out it really is, though the center cabinets were a little shallow. Two access doors to the cockpit, one at each end of the galley struck me as more workable than a wall of Plexiglas. Good bridge deck clearance, the normal cabin set-up in the hulls, nice ground tackle rig...lots of good ideas in this boat.

But alas, as nice a piece as ONSA is, I don't think the Fidgi is quite the boat for us. The saloon is really kind of cramped. The dinning table completely fills the space. The cockpit is equally modest. Though I liked the center helm station flanked by doors, it splits the cockpit neatly in two; both halves now being separate seating areas. Mind you, given the choice of a 47' mono-hull and the Fidgi at near the same price, the Fidgi wins hands down. I have tools and I am not shy of tearing things up. The saloon area could be redone to make a much better use of space. (Good-by big fixed table, hello some more storage space.) The cockpit is small, but bigger than a mono-hull and doesn't roll or heal - workable as is. Live in one hull, redo the other, move and repeat. Given a season or two a Fidgi would morph into a pretty nice choice. But there are a couple of other models that rank a bit higher on the list, Athena, TPI, and Admiral among them. (And me, I'm still hoping for dagger boards...can you say "Catana?")

Take Two

They say opposites attract, a fact that Tim and I have confirmed many times over the nearly 36 years that we've been married.  So it should come as no surprise that I will have a completely different take on the question posed by Otto, our shipmate on the Long Island circumnavigation.  Vive la differance!

First, some disclaimers.  Point One - Any discussion on this blog about catamaran vs monohull or the features of any particular boat is set on the background of available funds.  I want to be sure that everyone realizes that if it comes down to time to go and we don't have the funds for a catamaran, then we go on a monohull and do it quite happily.  If we don't have funds for a 47 foot then we go on a 42 foot or a 37 foot or a Pearson 35.   Point Two - Any boat that we own will be cared for meticulously because we're both quite anal when it comes to things of that sort.  Tim's a former aircraft mechanic with the FAA peering non-stop over his shoulder and I'm just a tiny bit OCD when it comes to organization. (You can stop laughing now Tim).

OK, now that the formalities are out of the way, to compare Osprey and Quetzal in any way - size, shape, amenities, handling, stability, and heaven forbid, style, is like comparing a 1970 VW bus to a  classic Jaguar.  While on Osprey, I always felt underpowered both in sail and engine, overweight, graceless, and insecure.  I'm sure that given many months and many dollars I could turn that Pearson into something that felt more like home to me (think liveaboard), but it just didn't "fit".  Quetzal, on the other hand, even at 25 years old, had the grace and lines of a classic, and the handling to match.  It felt immediately like home and I could have easily turned the boat around at the end of 6 days and done it again.  And again.  And again.  I truly enjoyed the Long Island trip, but it was in spite of Osprey not because of it.  The trip was enjoyable because we had a good instructor, great company, and an incredible destination.  The Bahamas trip had all of those things, and a really great vessel to enjoy them with.

As a mechanic and a pilot, Tim tends to look at the technical aspects of the boats we sail.  Specs, power, handling, headroom.   Not being particularly gender biased, I'm not sure if  it's a woman thing or a me thing, but I tend to feel the boat.  Every boat I've ever been on has an atmosphere and I'm pretty sensitive to that.  That's why as we got off the new Beneteaus and Jeanneaus at the boat show, I was left with the feeling of leaving a cold hotel room. Osprey left me feeling a little like leaving a trailer park, but Quetzal felt just like Nomad, a place I could call home.

To be sure, I hope to sail a catamaran off into the sunset, but if the monohull we end up on is anything like Quetzal, this will be one happy camper.

An admission...

I know this is going to mark me as a nearly useless, utterly shallow excuse for a human being, so let's keep this just between us...but I was really hoping that the trip on a 47' monohull would prove such boats a real option for Deb and I. The main reason? (I mean it, just between us.) I think monohulls, most of them anyway, are prettier than Catamarans (most of them, anyway). We've looked at a couple of older Catamarans as possibilities, right size, right price, right equipment, but (and I will not share any actual model names, beauty being in the eye of the owner, as it were) just plain ugly. Of course there are a few butt ugly monohulls out there as well, but they seem a distinct minority in the monohull world. Catamarans, on the other hand, well...what does one do with a vessel whose primary dimensions are those of a tennis court?

I realize I have been watching the sailing world in general, and the Catamaran world in particular, for just a few years. But has anyone else noticed that these things seem to be getting kind of excessive across the middle? I can remember, when I first started learning about catamarans, that a 50% ratio, beam to LOA, was considered about the "maximum." Even a boat I happen to like, the 38' Fountaine Pajot Athena, has a beam of 21.5' while being only 38 foot long overall. (That's a tick more than 56%!) The 38 foot Leopard is about the same. Indeed, from any angle that emphasizes the beam even these boats (either of which I would take in a heartbeat) look more than a little "clunky." If I remember the last two America's Cup competitors were basically square. They were space age, fragile, and fast as hell...but does anyone think they were pretty? That thing with the wing was just plain weird, and this from an airplane driver who normally loves high tech toys.

I know that "ugly" is supposed to be completely subjective. But I also suspect it isn't. We often disagree about beauty, but we rarely disagree about ugly. When we see it, we know it. When it comes to machines though, there is another consideration. Ugly is, usually, as ugly does. I have "helmed" my share. I'm even type rated in some of them. The Embraer EMB-110P1 was one. Ugly indeed, with a face only a Mother could love and cold, slow, noisy and unpressurized. The jet I'm flying now (another type rating) is slow for a jet, has limited range with a load, and only a marginally better face. (The teal and pink paint job doesn't help). But at least it isn't as ugly as the Beech Premier.

Then there is the opposite of "ugly is as ugly does." There are some truly bizarre looking machines out there, built to do "A THING." They do "THE THING" and often look like performance art in the process. Witness a Sky Crane lifting the impossible or a Supper Guppy swallowing same for a flight across an ocean.

A truism for boats as well as airplanes, when you are sitting in the cockpit you can't see the ugly. In fact sometimes ugly from outside is actually pretty from the other side. People who fly the Premier are pretty happy with the speed / fuel burn / range / comfort, it stomps the C-V (my ride) in each of those categories. That it looks like a guppy on stilts when sitting on the ramp doesn't bother the people paying the bills, the airplane seems to grow on them.

I suspect a Cat can be like that, built to do "A THING." Sitting a dark and stormy anchor watch while sipping coffee in the dry and warm, a 360 degree view out of the bridge deck, the boat gently rocking just a few degrees (like we did in FL)? Nothing ugly about that. Rocketing along at hull speed, (whatever that means in a Cat) regardless of the point of sail, without a heel, roll or yaw? No ugly there either. Room to spread out a little...okay, there was lots of room on Quetzal. Still, the aft porch or front tramps of a cat look like pretty nice places to spend some days. Built to do something special, that can over come odd looking lines and angles.

Catamarans have been around long enough now where, once in a while, one pops up whose price and looks don't spark a gag reflex. (Unlike monohulls, there seems a whole armada of Catamarans that are both obscenely expensive and seriously ugly to boot. How do they sell those things?) Anyway, I'm going to take my shallow self and start looking for a pretty Catamaran I can call home. And if, once I find her, we spot a gorgeous monohull flying all her canvas, rail dug in, spray flying and making a rainbow over a perfect bow and shear line...well, I hope she won't hold it against me if I sigh a little.

Can I have one please?

This morning we had the boat all ready to go right at 9:00 when our instructor arrived. The day dawned bright and sunny and we were up at 6:30 anxious to go. We were only going to get another 3 or 4 hours of sailing in before they were going to kick us off so the cleaning crew could ready the boat for the next visitors, and we wanted to make the best of it. Who knew that Florida actually really does have sunshine and blue sky?



We first had to maneuver the cat out of the slip which was a challenge this morning since they had parked a great big trawler right across our stern. The twin engines on the cat performed flawlessly and we side-stepped out of the slip with no more than a few feet on either end. (Try that in a monohull). We headed out into the bay, put up the sails, and just tacked up the bay to the Deer Point 144 marker.



Our instructor relaxed in the cockpit and let the two of us do all the sailing and tacking by ourselves as if we were on the boat alone. At the end of the morning he pronounced us ready to sail the cat by ourselves. It was a gorgeous morning with puffy clouds and deep blue water and warm breezes. It was the perfect end to the perfect week for us. There were moments of frustration during the week, but in the end it was perfectly designed to accomplish what we intended to accomplish - to learn if we could live full time on a catamaran. The answer? In the end we decided that we could easily toss our kids the key to the house and say "Seeya". There was just not a thing more we needed to be happy than what we had on the boat at that moment, and that was a bit of an epiphany.

Some more miscellaneous thoughts from the week: Full-time liveaboards are undoubtedly the most interesting people on the face of the planet. If you ever make it to the Keys and you see a dive salvage operation on a ketch sailboat of indeterminate origin run by Captain Fish (the man) and Captain Jack (the dog), say hello for us.



Night watches are going to be one of my favorite times.

I can't imagine doing this with anyone besides my best friend :)







Laying on the trampoline hanging over the edge:

The best bad idea...

...I've had in a while. Or maybe it was the worst good idea. Either way I spent a good chunk of the day sailing a 50 foot Cat in the ocean. I found one of those tourist-type party boat companies, the ones where they load up 50 or so, ply on the drinks, crank up the music, and pretend to go "sailing." In reality they spend most of their time motoring around the bay, peering at homes of the rich and famous, and hanging out at a beach.

But instead of 50 there were only 5 of us, and two of those were the crew; Captain Larry and new Captain Noah. When I arrived at the slip Larry, Noah and two other guys were welding up a broken stanchion in preparation for a Coast Guard inspection. Before you know it I was kind of a part of the gang just working on the boat. Work done and equipment put away, it was decided that we should go on a short sail anyway, even if it was just me. (Normally they don't go with less than 5 paying passengers on board.) At the last moment a woman and her daughter showed up but they were not really interested in the "tourist" thing either. So we slipped the lines and headed straight for the Atlantic.

Five minutes out of the slip, in the middle of the ICW with boats of all kinds going in all directions, Capt. Larry offered me the helm. He didn't get it back for nearly four hours. We timed our motoring to reach the 17th street draw bridge for the on-the-half-hour opening. I learned the procedure for checking in on the radio and got my first look at an open draw bridge from the helm of a boat. Going through we cozied up to a power boat in front of us. Working the helm with twin throttles under my right hand actually felt kind of natural and judging the energy state of the boat was the same as what I do in the jet. Things just happened a little slower. It got a little bouncy after we cleared the bridge and turned east into both the harbor channel and the breeze. Hoisting the main was a two man job; big freaking sail on a 50 foot Cat! The jib was on a roller so setting it was a matter of pulling on one rope.

Clear the channel we turned north on a broad reach, set the sails and watched the speed build to nearly 9 knots in the 12 - 15 knot ocean wind. The waves were running 3 to 4 feet and for the first time in my life I had the helm of a sailboat in saltwater. Impressions? I set the sails on the Cat just like we do on Nomad, the only real difference is the rigging being much more robust on the bigger boat. The self tacking head sail made changing headings mostly a matter of turning the helm. But leaving the head sale to its own devices when tacking though the wind meant giving away nearly all of our momentum. It helps if one backs the jib a little, letting it push the bow through the maneuver. We do the same on Nomad. Mind you, watch for the boom and main sail sheet while doing all this. Nomad's boom will put you in the water in a heartbeat. I think this big Cat could launch you into next week. The Cat certainly takes the waves with a different motion than the mono-hull; stiffer in some ways with a quicker lateral motion instead of an easy roll. But there is not a doubt in my mind, at least on this day with nearly perfect winds, Deb and I could have easily two-handed the big Cat out on the ocean.

I make no claim of doing so in 15 foot waves and 30 knot winds, or of getting in and out of Ft. Lauderdale's commercial harbor without some help. That place reminded me of Chicago's O'Hare on a busy afternoon. As the day was ending and I was working us back into the channel, winds and waves now squarely on the twin sterns, the Captain asked me how much ocean experience I had. "How long have we been out?" was all I could think to say. This morning I had none. Tonight I have some. That's a pretty good day and made this a good idea. But it was sure hard to step back on the dock knowing it might be a long, long time before I get to do such a thing again.

Boat Show...post (2)

The nitty gritty on the boats. The Cats in order from top to bottom: The Antares 44i sits at the top of the heap, the tip of the mountain, the peak of perfection; and is completely out of reach unless mounds of money fall from the sky and land in my back yard. (Money that is actually worth something that is.) To give some idea of how much this thing costs I heard that the one at the show is owned by the dude who runs Haliburton; or maybe it was Blackwater? Anyway we are talking serious throw weight.

 

The Leopard / 40 or 46 are my personal favorites. There is nothing about these boats I would change except, a) finding a way to put a washer/dryer on the 40, and b) having one registered in my name.

 

Admiral 38; a close run on the Leopard. I really liked the cathedral ceilings in the hulls that make for a wonderfully open feel to being "down stairs." The main complaint is the finish of the fiberglass inside the boat which is not up to the standards of the Leopard. As a result the boat has a "hollow" sound to it when one is inside and the hulls look a bit industrial.

 

Lagoon 380. Nice, really nice. Not much to change on this one either but the inside finish is just shy of the Leopard while costing a bit more. It also has vertical windows in the salon which are a good idea for a whole host of reasons; room, not focusing the sun, good visibility, etc. But I think they are a bit ugly. The Admiral looks like a sea-going space ship; the Lagoon like a floating apartment.

 

Foutaine Pajot Mahe 36. This was a boat at the top of my "going in" list. But for a variety of small reasons it just didn't tug at the heartstrings like the Leopard or Admiral. Still a nice boat and if anyone wants to buy me one for Christmas I promise not to be disappointed. Seawind 1160. This was another boat I really expected to like. But when we first boarded her I was vastly underwhelmed and just walked off the thing. The next day we got on her again and (for reasons I don't really understand) I liked it much better the second time around. This is a boat that needs to grow on you a little. Still, I don't think it would be much of a colder weather boat without some work.

 

Monohulls; All of the Mono's that I liked are Center Cockpit boats. They are a bit more troublesome to get aboard since the helm station itself is in a kind of tub located about a third of the way forward from the stern. The interiors of all the mono's were glowing wood and well thought out floor plans. (Cats, being much more sensitive to weight, have a lot of white fiberglass.) Passport. This thing was just flat beautiful inside and out. If I had a choice between this one and an Admiral Cat it would be a hard, hard decision to make.

 

Island Packet 465. All around very nice boat with a long, blue-water pedigree. It also had a really, really nice master cabin aft. Its big sister, the 485, includes an office that any smart CEO would want to call her own. If you promise not to tell anyone I think the Island Packet is probably the most reasonable, biggest bang for the buck, option that we saw. I would not be surprised at all if we landed on one of these a few years from now. (She also has lines very similar to those of little Nomad.)

 

Since Deb and I have never actually sailed on a big catamaran the list is a bit premature. (Of course not having done anything like this didn't stop us from jumping in with both feet when it comes to sailboats. I offer as evidence to our willingness to try about anything a 27 foot Com-Pac currently floating in our slip.) The next step of the plan is to spend a few days learning to sail a Cat and taking a coastal cruising course at the same time. There are several 5 day classes offered along the East Coast and we are hoping to take advantage of one of them sometime next spring. On first brush another consideration is that all of the Cats seem slanted to "warm weather, island hopping" kind of sailing. The Mono's looked a bit more purposeful, like they could take on the Northern climes or Southern Sea and have a fair chance of giving their owners a good time and a cozy place to live. Probably an illusion but something I need to square away in my own thinking. I can easily imagine that Deb and I will not be just warm weather kinds of people, and may look for some sailing where you might find a little snow on the deck once in a while. For now though, we are going to enjoy the changing season right here on our lake in IL. The next few weekends are "on the boat" weekends. (Well, I might have one contract trip on a Sunday.) I want to put some serious time in on Nomad and just enjoy having the boat and being on the lake. The leaves are starting to change around here and with any luck we will find some wind to play with this month.