Can you imagine not going to a supermarket or farmer’s market for a month or more? Could you make nourishing, appetising meals out of only what you have in stores? By the end of the first week, it would be a little challenging. What about after three weeks when all the fresh food has been exhausted, the bottom of the freezer is starting to show and all your go-to dishes are missing key ingredients? Could you sustain yourself for even longer? For two months, maybe three?

As long-distance cruisers, who prefer to spend time in the more remote islands and anchorages of the world, we have outfitted our Tayana 42 Agápe to be a comfortable off-grid home. We’ve utilised modern technologies like desalination, lithium, solar, and refrigeration to ensure we are as comfortable as possible, but when it comes to collecting and foraging for food it’s often better to look to the past for guidance.

Fresh fish caught and ready to be made into a meal

For close to a thousand years, the Paumotu people have inhabited the isolated Tuamotu Archipelago of French Polynesia. Life here is beautiful and simple in many ways, but complex and challenging in others.

They’ve had to carve out an existence among islands in which growing food on land, even with all of today’s technology, is still a challenge. They learned how to find and save water on islands that receive sparse rainfall and have little to no groundwater.

They discovered which fish are safe to eat and distinguished which plants are edible and have medicinal properties. By befriending those who live on the islands, and learning the age-old ways of the Paumotu, we’ve gained a small portion of their knowledge and are now able to extend our food stores and time spent in these hard-to-reach enclaves.

Not your everyday fish market find…

Four years ago, when Agápe first sailed in to a coral atoll, we could not have been more excited. The clear water teemed with variegated reef fish and the infinity pool-like seascape was broken only by a speckling of tiny palm tree-lined islands called motus. It felt like sailing into a postcard.

Initially, we thought nothing of paddling into the beach, grabbing a couple of coconuts, and hacking them open to quench our thirst and harvest the sweet meat inside. It was not until later we learned that, like the San Blas Islands of Panama, most of the palms and their fruit are owned by local families or are part of larger farms, sometimes enveloping entire motus.

By spending extended time in these atolls we’ve learned much from our Paumotu friends over the years – like which fish are safe to eat – a few traditional cooking techniques, some of the Paumotu language, and just how important the coconut palm is to their way of life. Now, with permission, we take from several farms and can respectfully harvest the fruit.

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On Agápe, we’re fortunate to have a very large refrigerator and a separate freezer, so our fresh food stores can last up to six weeks or more. By being able to both fish and forage, we can greatly extend our time in these more remote anchorages. We don’t forage to sustain, only to supplement our ever-dwindling food supply.

Food from the ocean

In past times, such as documented in the Kon-Tiki voyage, all you had to do was throw a baited hook into the water and the fish would practically jump into the boat. Now, catching fish seems to be a little harder.

We have dragged every make, model, and colour of lure at just about every time of day, and every speed – from languidly drifting at 2 knots, to over 8.5 knots, which in our Tayana feels like we are setting some kind of speed record.

Fresh-caught fish are free, but speak to locals about which species are safest to eat

We have caught big fish, small fish, keepers, and throwbacks. The one consistency we have found is that when the fridge and freezer are full is usually when you will catch a fish. If you are fishing because you need fresh protein, let’s just say bring some snacks because you’re going to be there a while.

In French Polynesia, like most tropical regions, the fish, especially the carnivorous fish, are usually plagued by a neurotoxin called ciguatera. Nearly every fish in French Polynesia contains some trace amount of ciguatera and this region has the dubious honour of posting the highest annual cases of ciguatera poisoning worldwide.

For this reason, we choose to spearfish. While this sport is not for everyone, it is one way we can ensure we catch fish that are safe to eat. It also allows us to observe the health of the reef and select the exact species we want to hunt.

To learn which fish are safe to eat and even ways to cook them, we always try and go fishing with a local first. In the Pacific, some fish that are safe to eat on one island may not be on the next. Being able to correctly identify fish in and out of the water, and knowing what size fish is safe to eat, is all gained by local knowledge. There’s also no better way to make friends than to catch and cook a meal together.

A cruising delight: barbecuing fresh-caught fish on
the beach.

Being able to catch fish has freed up precious room in our freezer to store extra fruits and vegetables. It also helps take the bite out of our grocery bill as protein is usually the biggest expense, just behind my wife’s chocolate habit.

On land, it can be a little trickier. In the Marquesas, Leeward, Gambier, and Austral Archipelagos, these relatively young islands have healthy, nutrient-rich soil that can sustain all manner of plant life.

There’s only one way to harvest coconuts that haven’t yet fallen…

Food from the land

While in these areas, with permission, we can gather fruit by the dinghy-load as things seem to regrow overnight. Here, an afternoon hike through the hills can produce a backpack full of avocados, eggplant, ginger, pamplemousse (grapefruit), pumpkins, passion fruit, and more. But in the low-lying atolls of the Tuamotus it gets harder. These islands only have a dusting of topsoil and plants take much longer to mature here. Not only does this make foraging for fruits even harder but it also makes asking permission even more important.

Coconuts are one of the most versatile foodstuffs. Green ones are the youngest, about the size of a walnut. Over two months, they’ll grow to the size of a grapefruit. Once the nut is about the size of a volleyball or approximately six months old, it’s perfect for drinking.

Coconuts are at their most mature when the husks turn brown and fall from the palm

The young fruit is full of sweet, refreshing water, loaded with electrolytes, including potassium, sodium, and magnesium. At this stage, it contains almost no meat and the water is nearly fat-free. It makes for a great hydrating drink in the heat of the day.

As the nut matures, it will develop yellow or brown striations on the husk. Inside, the amount of water lessens and the meat begins to congeal. At this stage, its fleshy, soft meat is perfect for making coconut ‘bacon’ (made by tossing coconut meat in oil, soy sauce, sriracha, maple syrup, liquid smoke salt and black pepper and baked at 160°C for 12 minutes) or ceviche.

When fully mature, usually around nine to 12 months, the husk turns brown and the nut will eventually fall. This is when it’s at its richest and fattiest. The meat, now fibrous and firm, has thickened and is ready to shred.

You can husk, then crack the nut with the blunt edge of a knife, hatchet or machete before shredding. We use a coconut grater that was gifted to us back in Panama, but you can also blend the meat in a food processor. Once shredded, we add a little warm water to loosen the fat and oil before straining. Wring out the meat in a cloth napkin as hard as you can to force the milk and cream out.

While spearfishing is not for everyone, it is one way we can ensure we catch fish that are safe to eat

It doesn’t take much, but by adding a bit of foraged food into our diet every day we can stretch our stores for months. We add coconut cream to our coffee, and toasted shredded coconut meat to cereals and yoghurt in the morning.

We eat freshly caught fish for half of our lunches and dinners, use fruits for baking and smoothies, avocados for guacamole and chocolate pudding, and roast vegetables for soups and salads.

These foraged foods can make some of the tastiest meals around. Fresh caught Mahi Mahi with a mango salsa, served over a bed of coconut rice and a green papaya salad might be one of your more expensive meals out or it can be a nearly free meal that you were able to put together while trawling and going for a walk through a beautiful island valley.

Being able to supplement our stores has allowed us to not only stay in remote anchorages longer but has also introduced us to many of our friends we’ve made while travelling. By showing we are genuinely interested in and want to put into practice the historical knowledge of the Paumotu people we’ve made lasting connections with our teachers. Connections that both physically and metaphorically produce fruit.

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Our image of the lone sailor as the hero of the high seas, battling the elements in isolation, does all the second-in-commands of the world a disservice. Every skipper needs a dependable first mate.

Even solo sailors rely on someone ashore, somewhere, and those professional solo racing skippers that make the front covers usually have a whole technical team on call 24/7 to support and help them when equipment malfunctions or things go wrong.

With a full crew, a first mate or second in command (call them what you will) may run the watch system, share in the decision making process, and help with repairs or problem solving. They can act as a co-skipper, making independent decisions on their watch, or have a specialised role such as navigation or weather routing.

There is no template for this position. Ideally, a first mate brings complementary skills, but most importantly they are someone competent to take over should something happen to the skipper. A good first mate allows the skipper to sleep properly and be fully rested should something unforeseen happen. They have the skipper’s back.

If that’s to be your role, what’s the best way to play it? If you are a couple sailing two-handed, how do you divide up the tasks, and who should be in charge of what? And if you are a skipper in your own right, perhaps with a yacht you are used to running your way, what is the most effective way of working cooperatively with another owner-skipper?

First mate areas of responsibility

German skipper Torsten Jonas is a very experienced offshore sailor. He has lived on his Hanse 575 Seaside on and off since 2013. He crossed the Atlantic in 2015, sailed back to Europe via the Azores in 2016, took part in the ARC in 2018 and crossed most of the Pacific with the World ARC in 2019. His intention was to sail as far as Fiji and stay there for a year.

Then the pandemic happened. Eventually, Jonas managed to get to New Zealand but the boat was stuck in Whangarei for over two years until he was able to ship Seaside back to Palma in July 2022.

This January, he’ll leave St Lucia with the intention of sailing all the way round the world, helped by a rota of family and friends. After over 100,000 miles on Seaside, he knows the boat inside out. So what he is looking for as a second in command, he says: “is one crew who is fit enough to do the foredeck, who can be competent on the night watches and who can sail in heavy seas.”

Experienced offshore sailor Torsten Jonas aims to sail round the world with a rota of family and friends. Photo: Travis Ranger

If this first mate comes with other skills, so much the better. On his Atlantic crossing, the first mate’s role was filled by his friend Lutz Grüneberg, a skipper in his own right and an engineer by profession. “Lutz is able to manage if something happens to me. He is a sailing friend I have known for many years.”

For his part, Lutz says that they have discussed clear areas of responsibility. “But every change of sail is my decision,” says Jonas. “Somebody needs to take it, and that is me, although we do discuss it.”

Maintenance and preparation are also his domain, though he has help from his crew. He delegates areas that they may have more experience in. For example, Grüneberg is there to step in if anything were to happen to Jonas, is in charge of all the IT matters on board and the Seaside crew website, and looks after anything to do with the rigging.

Like many well-organised and experienced skippers, Jonas is also clear about how things run on board and has prepared a 28-page boat manual for crew. This contains copies of the boat plans, stowage lists, behaviour on board (mainly the daily and nightly routines), knots used, the operation of sails and rescue equipment, personal equipment on board, and tables of crew contacts, important phone numbers, details of everyone’s flight details, miles sailed on each leg, start times and shore programmes.

Jonas’s Hanse 575 Seaside. Photo: James Mitchell/WCC

Seaside’s example highlights an important point if you are hoping to act as first mate. Be sure that the skipper you are sailing with really does have the experience to match their responsibilities. A good skipper tends to have a tidy boat, and will be more than happy to illustrate their safety preparations and equipment. The boat will be properly maintained, they should be well organised with maintenance and spares, and any financial contribution they ask for ought to be for consumables and not for the maintenance of the boat. They should also be open about your responsibilities.

Ultimately, though, decisions at sea are the skipper’s to make and they must live with the consequences. You are entitled to make your point, but if you disagree and your view is rejected, you will have to let it go. You are there in a supporting role.

A tribe with two chiefs?

How do you work together if you and your skipper have similar levels of experience, or perhaps you are the more qualified but joining in a supporting role?

This is the situation that Bones and Anna Black are in. Both are professional sailors. They run a Bowman 57, Emily Morgan, as a charter business, though they are shortly selling her to come ashore as cruising consultants and “enablers, to help and coach others on a personalised basis” (yachtemilymorgan.com).

A co-skipper or first mate’s primary role is to support the skipper – and allow them to properly sleep when off watch. Photo: Tor Johnson

Together the Blacks have sailed over 100,000 miles and done “at least 30 transatlantics,” says Bones, including seven ARC rallies and a full circumnavigation. Generally, they sail with a full complement of charter guests, and each of them runs a watch. Anna is the more highly qualified of the two, and is down as captain on the ship’s papers, although she plays co-skipper/first mate to Bones at sea. What do they consider is a first mate’s role?

“The first mate takes the pressure off the skipper,” says Anna. “They should be able to run their watch and if the skipper is incapacitated or asleep they should know enough to be able to run the boat, so that when I go to get some rest I will sleep soundly.”

“The first mate’s business is not to do anything to contradict you,” adds Bones. “They are not to think that they’re in charge, otherwise there will be conflict. If a skipper is naturally cautious and you’re a racer, don’t start to race the boat. You mustn’t undermine the skipper.”

He adds: “A two-skipper boat is a nightmare. You can end up with two guys constantly contradicting each other. The secret is to have no secrets between you and to have discussions as to the common goal.”

“In some respects I recognise Bones is a better skipper and man manager than I am,” says Anna. “I’m better at boat management.”

An experienced first mate might be more knowledgeable than the skipper in some areas of sailing or maintenance, but should not aim to take over. Photo: TimBisMedia/WCC

“I respect that Anna has the higher qualifications but we have agreed that I have the final call,” says Bones. “Our differences of opinions are normally about tactics – I want to go south and she wants to go north, and we will discuss that. If we disagree, it’s over minor stuff.”

While we tend to think of technical sailing abilities as the most crucial, the Blacks emphasise that other so-called soft skills are invaluable on a long passage.

The first mate could take on the role of crew management. That’s important as little things can quickly flare up into major irritants. The Blacks cite the example of a crewman who used to sit in the cockpit unconsciously clicking his tether clip over and over. It soon drove everyone mad, especially crew off watch trying to sleep below. A quiet word was needed.

“A first mate might have a different way of approaching it, and you could ask them to have a word. They could be an asset,” says Anna.

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“Whereas most people sail with family and friends, we don’t know people beforehand and have more personality types to deal with. Offshore, personality comes into it. My approach doesn’t work with everyone because I like to make sure everyone’s voices are heard. Bones is good at judging characters, spotting things developing and nipping it in the bud.”

They recognise that in some respects it’s easier for them to make the rules than on a boat crewed by family and friends. “If you’re a couple or it’s your family, the boundaries are more blurred and maybe people aren’t used to there being rules. People are more likely to take liberties, so the skipper and first mate have to address these boundaries with a good briefing and work closely.”

What other qualities would they look for in someone stepping up to be a first mate?

“You need some offshore experience, but not necessarily ocean experience. I’d look for someone with good engineering skills,” says Bones, “and someone you can get along with. Someone could be a good cook, that’d be great but, above all, you have to have a can-do attitude.”

A first mate with strong people skills can take the lead in crew management. Photo: Sebastian Gylling/WCC

Two-up as a team

On many, perhaps most, cruising crews the couple who own the boat take on the positions of skipper (most often the man) and first mate (usually the woman). The skipper makes the ultimate call on decisions and onboard jobs tend to fall into ‘pink and blue’ tasks. In other words, one takes on maintenance and repairs, and the other runs the domestic side of the boat.

It doesn’t have to be this way, though, and occasionally these roles are reversed, as is the case with Chris and Karen Parker (more on them later). However these jobs are divided, the most successful couples are those who are interdependent, with broadly overlapping areas of sailing and technical competence.

Darrol and Kathy Martin are comparatively new sailors, who decided to buy a yacht in 2021 and go cruising. Kathy, a primary school teacher, and Darrol, a data specialist for a telecoms company, come from South Africa. They met in 2005 following the loss of their partners, and married in 2016.

“We grew up during apartheid so for us it’s been quite a journey,” says Kathy. “Back then we couldn’t have married each other.

“Darrol always said that he wanted to learn to sail – there had been so many restrictions and things that he had not been allowed to do. I thought: I’ve been able to do anything I wanted and Darrol hasn’t, and he should have those opportunities.”

The skipper makes navigation decisions, but regular briefings keep all crew well informed. Photo: Tor Johnson

The couple started with a charter holiday in Greece and loved it. They progressed to sailing courses and then to buying a boat, a 53ft (16m) Amel Mango from 1988, which they renamed Disa.

The boat had been lying in Greece and they considered sailing it back to the UK to spend the winter there and be close to some of their adult children. But then they looked at marina costs and energy prices and realised that, for the same budget, they could have a lot more fun basking in the Tropics.

With only seven weeks to go before the start of the ARC+ rally from the Canary Islands to Grenada, the Martins managed to get one of the last available places and signed up. Neither felt they had sufficient experience to get the boat to Las Palmas themselves, let alone make the transatlantic crossing. Neither did their insurance company, Pantaenius.

So for the legs from Gibraltar to Madeira and then onwards to Canaries, they were asked to take on more qualified crew.

Over the years I’ve talked to many couples who kickstarted their journeys by setting off with a delivery skipper or a professional sailor to help on the first stages of their voyage. Having a co-skipper or expert first mate can allow the departure date to be pulled forward.

New co-owner Karen Parker has taken responsibilty for maintenance

To find someone suitable, the Martins turned to crew finding services. Through World Cruising’s Ocean Crew Link service (oceancrewlink.com) they found a couple who sounded perfect. “We got an 80-year-old German guy and his partner,” says Kathy. “He was great, amazing really, incredibly sprightly and he taught us so much. With them, we added 1,000 miles to our experience.”

With these miles behind them, the insurance requirements were reduced so they could take on less experienced crew of at least RYA Day Skipper level. This step-by-step approach has helped to build the Martins’ knowledge and confidence.

The Martins have divided their roles along traditional lines. Darrol is the skipper, looks after most of the maintenance and, at sea, the navigation and weather. Kathy manages the budget, undertakes the couple’s life and boat admin and teaches part-time online to top up their funds. Other tasks are shared.

Becoming chief engineer

Chris and Karen Parker are lifelong sailors but Mistral of Portsmouth is their first yacht. Four years ago, Chris was coming up to retirement from his job as a pilot, and Karen realised how much he was dreading it.

“I knew he was hating the thought, so I said to him: ‘Why don’t we sail round the world?’ It really appealed to both of us as a project.”

They found a boat they loved, an Oyster 56 lying in Valencia that had already been around the world in 2015. “We bought it in September 2019. Then lockdown happened,” Chris says.

Couples may fall into land-based habits when it comes to making decisons, but consider who is actually the best fit for each role required onboard.

To help them get the boat and themselves ready, the Parkers employed a project manager. His role included familiarising the couple with all the systems and routine maintenance. “Neither of us is from an engineering background and we needed the reassurance,” says Chris.

Three years on, Karen has also retired from her job, they run the boat entirely themselves and have settled into new roles on board. Chris is the skipper and navigator. “Someone has to make the final call and I’m happy making life and death decisions as it’s what I’ve always done when flying,” Chris says.

Karen’s role, she says, is ‘chief engineer’. “I was head of HR globally at Christies and I sat on the board and worked closely with a CEO. I was also the European head of HR at Credit Suisse. So I love leading people but I never wanted to be the CEO. I like giving expert advice and suggestions, and I like doing things with someone else,” she says.

“Chris does all the tech. I wouldn’t have the confidence for that and I don’t want to take the responsibility for it. I do worry that if anything happens I will have to do the weather routing and navigation but more of the physical work falls to me.”

Darrol and Kathy Martin took on expert crew to help them cross the Atlantic and build their own sailing skills. James Mitchell/WCC

“Maintaining the boat has been a massive learning curve,” she says. “You have to know how everything works, how to service it, how to change the filters, clean the strainers. I service the toilets. If there’s a leak, I’m on it.

“When I’m on board I’ve always got jobs to do. I have taken on a lot of work. It’s hard to get the right balance between dependence on people coming on board. Normally when you do a 9-5 job, you come home and have the weekend off. I’m going to have to learn to relax.”

She admits there have been moments when it all seemed too much. “When we bought the boat I didn’t realise that it would be all that. Hopefully the ratio will change when we go sailing again.”

“But,” she adds, “there is a part of me that finds joy in the fact that I have become so much more practical. If I’ve been shown something I’m happy to have a go.”

As the Parkers’ experience illustrates, the skipper and first mate relationship is a partnership, with no rulebook. You can make of it whatever works for you both.

There are many decisions taken on board that do not need the skipper’s command once a general plan has been made. Giving up some of those responsibilities to a first mate or a crewmember relieves the skipper of some duties, and helps to build a team. That said, the lines between a mate and skipper shouldn’t be allowed to become blurred. Only one person is ever in charge.

How to be the perfect first mate

• Try to get involved in the year before setting off so you have a chance to really get to know the boat. Gaining more knowledge and skills makes it easier to settle into a harmonious life when you get underway for real
• If maintenance is not your strong suit, maybe you could be the one to organise servicing and source spares? This would be a huge help on a long voyage
• Safety always comes first. If you have any doubts about your skipper’s commitment to it, walk away
• Discuss openly how you would cope and what you would do in a range of emergency situations. Talk upfront about how you would deal with a rudder failure or a dismasting
• Look for a skipper prepared to share out areas of responsibility (and control)
• Skipper, first mate and crew need to work together to problem solve, but… be supportive of the skipper’s final decisions and don’t argue, don’t undermine or try to outdo
• Try to be tolerant of others and easy to get along with. This might mean making your personality smaller than it is on land

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“The closest I’ve ever been to mortality was the capsize at Cape Horn. That was just a horrific experience,” says American sailor Rich Wilson of his Southern Ocean sailing experiences. “But I never thought I would die. The greatest fear is not of dying, but of something breaking that couldn’t be fixed.”

Wilson was part of an elite panel of ocean sailors and bluewater adventurers speaking at a special seminar on handling heavy weather during the Cruising Club of America’s centennial celebrations this autumn. The panel featured Vendée Globe veteran Wilson; Randall Reeves, who completed a ‘Figure 8’ circumnavigation; Jean-Luc Van Den Heede, who has sailed around the planet solo six times; and high latitudes explorer and mountaineer Steve Brown.

The quartet’s tales of seamanship are awe-inspiring. Adventurers and survivalists at heart, they have seen the beauty and wonder of the remotest parts of the planet. They’ve also lived through terrifying experiences that would make even seasoned ocean sailors blanch.

All four skippers spoke of the importance of preparedness. “Inspect your equipment and know how to use it,” noted Steve Brown. But the overarching theme of the seminar was positivity, and the importance of maintaining hope no matter how dire the situation.

“I have a nephew in the military academy and his survival course says job No1 is to maintain a positive attitude. If you think you can get through it, you can get through it,” says the 60-year-old Reeves, who took on his Figure 8 challenge after a two-year single-handed cruise of the Pacific Ocean. “Remember, this was all your idea being out here, you wanted this.”

storm sail and mountainous seas for Randall Reeves during his Figure 8
circumnavigation of the Americas and Antarctica

Streaming lines

Positivity, and a survivalist’s mentality, were two of the crutches that got Wilson and crewmate Steve Pettengill through a ‘horrific’ capsize in November 1990 when they were attempting to break the clipper ship record from San Francisco to Boston via Cape Horn on the 60ft trimaran Great American I. They were some 2,000 miles from Cape Horn and starting to plan their approach, when they were overtaken by a massive storm with hurricane force winds and seas of 25-35ft, with 50ft breakers.

A day later they were down to bare poles and trying to slow the 60ft-long, 40ft-wide tri by dragging a series of warps with overhand knots every 6-8ft. In a previous single-handed transatlantic race Wilson had deployed a solid cone drogue on a 35ft trimaran, but the attaching nylon line stretched as the drogue gripped and then recoiled, dragging the trimaran stern-to up the waves, before eventually disintegrating. Wary from that experience, Wilson and Pettengill opted instead to deploy up to 1,000ft of line off the stern of Great American I.

“The warps worked well and since there wasn’t a lot of load on them we could tie them to anything, stanchions, cleats, pad eyes. We ended up with 12 lines dragging over the side – spare sheets, halyards, dock lines – whatever we had, then we got to critical drag,” says Wilson. “We were controlling the boat, going down the seas at 12 knots and up at 8. We were under bare poles and had the autopilot working, taking the seas about 15° off the quarter.”

The next day, Wilson recalls, “things started getting crazy”. The recording arm on the barograph had dropped off the drum, below 926mb, and they were in communication with shore-based weather router Bob Rice, a leading maritime meteorologist of the time.

Cape Horn in the distance. Photo: Richard Langdon

“We were in touch with Bob on HAM radio the day before the capsize,” says Wilson. “He said we should be seeing 50 knots of wind. We said, ‘Bob, we’re seeing 72 knots right now.’ Thirty-two years ago, we didn’t have the great weather forecasting resources we have now.”

The storm raged and on US Thanksgiving Day, Great American I capsized. It wasn’t so much the wind that was the problem but rather the sea state. “We got sideways on the wrong wave and rolled over gently,” Wilson says.

“Suddenly, we’re upside down. I was pretty sure the mast was intact after the capsize, but we were upside down 400 miles west from Cape Horn at 55°S, 079°W. We immediately got the EPIRB going and into our survival suits. The last thing we had done before leaving San Francisco was to move the survival suits from the forepeak into the main cabin so they were ready to go.

“About an hour and a half later, another wave came along, it must’ve been far bigger than the rest. Steve’s a truck driver and he said it sounded like 10 tractor trailers in a pile up on the highway when the wave came.

“I don’t remember hearing it, but I got launched and bounced off the floor, and knocked out. I came to underwater, flailing around, found something with my feet and pushed off and came to the surface. Now I’m neck deep in water. I heard Steve yelling for me, he was in the wheelhouse area and I was in the main cabin area.”

Drogue deployed on Jean-Luc Van Den Heede’s Matmut during the Golden Globe Race. Photo: Jean-Luc Van Den Heede/PPL/GGR

Miraculously, neither sailor suffered any injuries during the two flips of their trimaran. Upon re-righting, the mast and boom, which had been intact underwater, were both broken in multiple pieces. The hull, while awash, was mostly intact. Great American I had 12 watertight compartments and only the port bow showed any real damage, likely from the first capsize.

Cold, wet and tired, Wilson and Pettengill spent Thanksgiving Day huddled in the sail locker forward of the mast bulkhead with the EPIRB and an Argos transmitter both emitting alerts. About 16 hours after righting, in the dead of night amidst a raging storm with 30-50ft seas, the two sailors were rescued by a passing container ship running from New Zealand and around Cape Horn, a route travelled no more than once a week.

In a remarkable feat of seamanship, the captain manoeuvred the 800ft New Zealand Pacific, at the time the world’s largest refrigerated container ship, alongside and upwind of Great American I, so that the sailors could clamber up a rope ladder in the lee of the storm.

Drogue deployed

Steve Brown, a 69-year-old mountaineer at heart who took up bluewater adventuring almost 20 years ago as a means to tackle items on his bucket list, often had a crew of five or six for his expeditions aboard Novara. He talked about the importance of keeping crew morale positive.

“I’m neither a solo sailor nor a racing sailor. My preparation is about making sure everything inside the boat is well prepared,” said Brown. “With crew, make sure not only that you are well rested and fed but the crew is too, to eliminate the fear factor, to give confidence in the boat and you as a skipper. That seems to work quite well. It’s different on a crewed boat because there are more people to worry about, not just your own morale.”

Van Den Heede’s Matmut suffered a pitchpole – but he went on to win the Golden Globe Race. Photo: Jean-Luc Van Den Heede/PPL/GGR

While Wilson decided against the use of a drogue to slow Great American I, Brown is a vocal proponent of the Jordan Series Drogue, which weaves a series of small cones into a tapered line with a small weight at the end. The maximum design load and the number of cones is determined by the displacement of the boat.

“The principles of a drag device are to slow the boat down and keep the bow or stern to the face of the waves,” says Brown. “My go-to is the Jordan Series Drogue. It’s a fantastic piece of kit. It enables you to do things you can’t do without it.” (Brown recommended dragdevicedb.com for a comprehensive list of drag devices and first-hand accounts, and the reference book Heavy Weather Sailing as a great guide to preparation.)

Brown deployed his ‘JSD’ when attempting to cross the South Atlantic Ocean from South Georgia to the Falkland Islands in June 2017. He and his crew had ventured to South Georgia some five weeks earlier to visit the remote island with its abundant wildlife, and to attempt the Shackleton Traverse, which explorer Ernest Shackleton and two others famously completed in 1916 to save the 22 lives of his crew who were stranded on Elephant Island, some 700 miles away.

When the time came to leave South Georgia, Brown and the crew set off on Novara, an aluminium-hulled Bestevaer 60C configured as a schooner with fore and aft Aero rigs. But they were soon engulfed by a horrific storm that blew down off the Andes Mountains in Chile, with winds of 45 knots gusting 65, and breaking seas of 25ft.

Brown flakes his Jordan Series Drogue on deck

“We’d been waiting out a series of storms which kept us in South Georgia longer than we wanted,” Brown says. “I thought we had a window and we set off, but then the storm came and we had to run off. We had the drogue on deck and ready to deploy. I think we put it out in 35 knots of wind, which built to 65-plus. So, we set it, shut the hatch and went below. We ran off for 42 hours under the drogue. We slept, ate and played cards for 42 hours.

“The boat yawed no more than 10°,” Brown continues. “We were doing 1.5 to 2 knots and covered about 82 miles in that period. The waves were mountainous, but we had water in the cockpit only about four times.”

Brown says that he and crew practiced using the JSD when they initially departed the Falklands. After launching and retrieving in manageable conditions, they decided to fix the two-piece, 24mm bridle in place to the stern bollards, fed through the stern hawseholes.

Brown’s drogue deployed from the stern

Brown noted that the bridle suffered chafe through the hawseholes and ordered a larger bridle with better chafe protection. He also noted that the first few cones were too close to the surface and frayed apart; a longer lead line helped solve that problem. They retrieved the drogue when the wind abated to 25 knots.

“When gathering it back in, we put the boat into reverse to take some way off. If you go about it the right way you can pull it in by winch hand-over-hand.

“It’s all about preparation and practice. Know the equipment you have, inspect it thoroughly before use and know how to use it properly,” Brown says.

Self-care strategy

Randall Reeves is also a proponent of the JSD, which he deployed three times during his two attempts at the Figure 8 voyage. “The JSD is a very good device, but it does need some practice and adjustments,” says Reeves.

“It’s what’s called a stopping drogue. You’re not steering, the sails are all wrapped up. Monitoring chafe is the biggest problem. My bridle passes through ‘chalks’ (stern hawseholes), and they’re high chafe points. So other than monitoring the chafe, there’s nothing to do. Once it’s launched, you’re on the drogue until the gale abates; have a cup of tea and watch the world go by.”

Reeves also had a different type of drogue aboard, known as a ‘shark’, which is shaped like a hot air balloon. “It’s more of a slowing drogue, it takes the boatspeed down from 7-8 knots to 4-5 knots,” explains Reeves.

“There’s a lot more stability aft with a tug at the stern. It’s a very different device from the JSD. I used it a couple of times in the second passage, when there was heavy weather or something worse ahead. I launched it to slow down enough to allow the big weather to slide by.”

Randall Reeves rounded Cape Horn twice during his Figure 8 circumnavigation on Mõli

Reeves stressed the importance of preparing for heavy weather. His yacht Mõli, an aluminium-hulled 45ft cutter, only made 150 miles per day, or 1,000 miles per week. He wasn’t going very fast, so outrunning storms was mostly out of the question. Instead, he sought to position himself within wind bands of 30 to 40 knots around the storm. Mõli displaces 20 tonnes and, designed for high latitude cruising, was robust enough to withstand the conditions.

In advance of every storm, Reeves would diligently prepare Mõli, and then prepare himself for a stretch of being tossed about. “And that’s the order, take care of the vessel first and then take care of yourself,” he says.

Reeves would check all the chafe points and move around lines that showed signs of fraying. If below 44°S, he’d cover his dorade vents to prevent water from pouring in. If the wind was forecast to be particularly strong, he’d store the solar panels below deck and put extra lashing on the mainsail. He’d get two drogues ready, double checking the lashing and re-flaking if necessary, so that both were ready to deploy. There’s scant time to uncoil a tangled drogue when it’s needed in distress.

Randall Reeves passing the Horn

“Finally, if you have the time, make time for some self-care,” Reeves says. “My strategy in the Southern Ocean was to sleep in 90-minute increments, but in the south, you spend a lot of time working so there isn’t a lot of time to sleep. Cat-napping was important; extra sleep before a low was important. Hygiene is also important. So, get clean, clean up the cabin, dry out your clothes, if possible, make double portions of meals. The worst of every low seems to come at night, so I would make some extra coffee and move my sleeping bag to the doghouse. You must stay as fresh and ready as possible.”

Calm beginnings

In all his laps of the planet, Jean Luc Van Den Heede has been rolled or knocked down three times. Most recently it occurred in November 2018 during the first edition of the Golden Globe Race, which he won.

Van Den Heede’s Rustler 36 Matmut was thrown from the face of a wave while the skipper was below decks in his bunk during a violent Southern Ocean storm about 1,900 miles west of Cape Horn.

The Rustler 36 went bow first down the face of the wave, hit the trough and then rolled over onto its side. Van Den Heede estimates that he was knocked over to about 150°. In anticipation of the storm, he had screwed the floorboards down and reduced sail to just enough to allow the windvane something to drive to.

Reeves’ boat, Mõli

“We had no electronic equipment, no autopilots,” says Van Den Heede of the race, where competitors are limited to retro electronics and equipment. “I had a wind vane, but the problem with the wind vane is that the boat does not go straight as with an autopilot. The boat was going left and right, and left and right, and I suppose there was a combination of a big wave and the moment where the boat was too close to the waves. The boat was not rolled completely, but slapped down side to side.”

Besides a messy cabin, the only damage Matmut suffered was to the hounds of a lower diagonal shroud. Van Den Heede thought at one point that he might have to make port to effect repairs, but was able to affect a jury rig that lasted to the finish and victory in the race.

“To be prepared when you see a storm coming, it’s absolutely necessary to know that the danger is not at the beginning,” says Van Den Heede. “The damage is usually at the end of the low pressure because at the end the sea is more confused because wind has turned direction a bit and the waves are higher and bigger.

Van Den Heede continues, “Rest at the beginning of the gale, sleep well, eat well. When people see the barometer going down, they start to be afraid. Don’t be afraid about that, you must keep cool and stay positive. Try to rest and sleep because at the end of the storm it might be important to take the helm – because you are always better than a pilot.”

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In the spring of 2021, Laura Blom-Sipkens and her husband were chatting in their car when a thought suddenly struck her: we should take a break from work and take on an Atlantic crossing with the children.

“I don’t remember the conversation we were having but suddenly I saw this might be the moment. The kids were in the right grades at school and I thought: ‘We should go. We need to do it,’” Blom-Sipkens recalls.

Life is very busy for the Dutch family. Blom-Sipkens is an anaesthesiologist, her husband, Bas, an orthopaedic surgeon. They often work different shifts. Their three children are aged 11, 9 and 7, and the oldest and youngest have dyslexia. “We didn’t want them to miss classes, so there never seemed to be the right moment,” she says. “But the oldest is finishing primary school now, so it seemed like the right time.”

The couple have sailed since childhood, mainly inshore in small boats and dinghies, but a longer voyage was something they’d been thinking about. “My husband loves sailing. I like it a lot, but I’m more of an adventurer and it’s the adventure that I like,” she says.

The Blom-Sipkens

Beginning their search for a suitable boat, the couple decided on aluminium or steel construction. After eight months of searching they found a Van de Stadt-designed Samoa 47 laid up on the south coast of France, and bought it. The yacht needed a refit, so the couple transported it home overland to the Netherlands to have the work done nearer home. Then they entered the 2023 ARC transatlantic rally. Now with a year to go, their preparations are on a strict timeline.

Why not now?

Many people planning to sail across the Atlantic plan their adventure three, four or even five years ahead of time, but others manage to do it in a much shorter timespan. After all, many things can change in five years; events may swerve you onto a different course. So if an opening can be found between work commitments, children’s education and duties to parents, why not take it now?

And if you do decide to make the leap, how would you prepare for a year of voyaging and an Atlantic crossing with an accelerated run-up? Is it possible to plan from scratch and execute well in under 18 months or even within the year?

The Blom-Sipkens are recommissioning a Samoa 47 for their Atlantic adventure.

This is a tight timeline. To be at the starting point for an Atlantic crossing in the right season from mid-November through to January you need to leave northern Europe no later than September, and preferably earlier. If it’s your first ocean passage, there will be an enormous amount to prepare and to learn, and your choice of yacht will greatly affect how much time you have to play with.

If you are thinking of buying a new boat, you’ll need a two-year run-up, perhaps longer. Bear in mind that supply chain delays and bottlenecks are currently causing delivery times to drag, and schedules are slipping again and again. You’ll also need to build in time for snagging and warranty work on a new build.

“I would normally say you could go with a new boat within a year, but at the moment, almost certainly not,” says Jeremy Wyatt, director of World Cruising Club. With over 25 years of experience organising the ARC and other rallies, Wyatt is an authority on the ways skippers prepare for ocean crossings and their degrees of success.

“You need to allow more time in your planning whatever you are told,” he says. “With a new build, you need to own it and have it in your possession for six months before you plan to sail away, as a rule of thumb.

Any Atlantic crossing will involve meticulous planning and preparation. Photo: James Mitchell

“I think with new boats, owners are a bit over-optimistic in their planning and with the information they are given. They maybe don’t always appreciate how complex it is, and with lots of systems on board, that is understandable.

“So I would say getting a new boat with only a year to go is too risky. You would need more time.”

If time is short, you may need to look at a brokerage yacht, which opens up a host of other questions. What is the right type and size of yacht, and what will represent a good buy?

Data from a generation of ARC rallies, from thousands of yachts that have crossed the Atlantic successfully, proves that any well prepared yacht can do this, from 34ft up to 100ft-plus. The choice depends on your budget and your expectations.

A smaller yacht is fine if you are prepared for longer passage times and less stowage and comfort. You might also be ready to go more quickly if you were prepared to accept fewer home comforts, which tend to require multiple complex systems. Every piece of equipment you can live without is something that can’t go wrong, and a learning curve you can eliminate.

ARC participants set off. Photo: James Mitchell

How much time have you got?

As well as calculating your budget for upgrading and refitting, you’ll need to consider how much time you will have to plan, oversee and carry out a multitude of tasks. If you have to work right up until you sail away in the spring or summer beforehand, time will be a scarce commodity.

You will likely want to take courses on diesel engine maintenance, troubleshooting and repairing mechanical and electrical systems, medical and sea survival courses, and do meteorology and radio comms courses. You or your crew may also want specialist hands-on offshore sail training or onboard tuition, but courses like these don’t run every week, and you may have to travel to them.

A yacht that needs less work will buy you more time to fit all these in.

“My advice for going next year would be to get a boat being sold by an owner who had been extended bluewater cruising already, a yacht that has been used and maintained continuously,” counsels Wyatt. “Maybe you would be buying a slightly more expensive boat, but it might save you money and time in the long run.

Completing items on the jobs list before a crossing. Photo: James Mitchell

“I wouldn’t rule out a hard-used boat if the owner had been living aboard, using it and it’s been looked after. It’s boats that have been sitting in the marina with systems not used and maintained that tend to give problems.”

Sue Grant, managing director of bluewater brokers Berthon International, agrees: “A year is quite a long time if you have the right boat. Age is not so critical, the standard of fit-out is. The ideal scenario would be someone has prepped for going and changed their plans. We have got a few like that [for sale] at the moment as, when Covid restrictions lifted, the right time [for their owners] had passed.

“Reliability is what you are looking for. Look at things that can go wrong, such as standing rigging. With a watermaker, engine, generator and electronics, they need to be operational but not the latest and greatest. There are things you will need to stay safe, and then there are things such as flatscreen TVs or AV systems that are nice to have but you will never get back [at resale].”

Grant agrees boat condition is more important than type. “Look at boats crossing with the ARC. It’s wholly wrong that only a medium displacement boat is suitable. That is rubbish. A Beneteau that just needs a tidy up to give her what she needs to go again is probably a safe bet. Obviously, you need to think differently if you’re going into the Pacific, planning to be away for 10 years or going to high latitudes.”

There are, she insists, always yachts on the market that will get you across on a deadline. “Right now, for example, we have a 2010 boat that has been across the Atlantic three times and was shipped last time. She has 2,000 engine hours, new sails but needs new rigging, and could even be ready for a season in the Med before you cross the Atlantic next year. With a good boat, a year is quite a lot of time.”

Sharing responsibilities – both on the boat and in the build-up – can ease the load and make it a more shared experience. Photo: Tor Johnson

Ready for a refit

It is commonplace, however, for owners to underestimate how much it will cost to refit and prepare a yacht.

From the survey of their Samoa 47, the Blom-Sipkens were well aware their boat would need a lot of work, possibly including re-engining. They anticipate that they’ll spend 25% of the initial cost getting the boat ready for their trip.

“We knew work had to be done. There were faults in the electrical system, wires were loose and things didn’t work. The engine was smoking white. We had a sense there might be additional problems. But the sails are good and rigging is good, the generator is OK. We will fit a wind turbine and solar panels, and there are all the little costs, for example adding extra guardrails for the kids,” she says.

“When we bought the boat we had a general idea of what it might cost but the prices have gone up due to inflation. The money is running out quickly.”

“Be careful about what you spend your money on,” Jeremy Wyatt recommends. “When buying their dream boat people often focus on the wrong things and neglect the basics. They feel they must have a watermaker or a generator, whereas I wouldn’t exclude boats without those items as you can go sailing without them, especially on an Atlantic circuit.”

Look instead at the integrity of the boat, the rigging and the safety equipment, he says. Insurance companies may insist on replacement rigging every 10-12 years.

Earning the reward; a perfect Caribbean anchorage for photographer Tor Johnson on his Jeanneau 509 Kãholo. Photo: Tor Johnson

The list of safety gear required for the ARC is extensive and can be costly, and you can’t cut corners with the safety of your family at stake. Your new boat may need some replacement sails, or extra downwind sails. The power or electrical systems might need to be upgraded.

You will need to check running rigging, winches and windlass, have machinery serviced, check steering and stern gear and, depending on the yacht’s inventory, invest in an adequate stock of spares. The lists go on, but the better prepared and maintained the boat is when you buy it, the quicker you can be ready to go cruising.

The benefits of teamwork

Whether you have a long time to prepare or not, getting the right crew together can help share out tasks and increase the enjoyment of participation. If you can, select the right people at the outset.

In November, US sailors Chris and Laura (they prefer us not to use their surname) will be travelling to France for the launch of their new Ovni 450, Reverie, on which they hope to cross the Atlantic for the first time with the ARC in November 2023.

Reverie’s launch will be a milestone in what has been a long-term plan for Chris and Laura. They spent two-and-a-half years choosing their ideal bluewater yacht before ordering it, and their Atlantic crossing dream has been years in the making.

US sailors Chris and Laura own a Swan 40 but are awaiting delivery of an Ovni 450.

The couple are very seasoned sailors who own two other yachts, a Swan 40 that they sail on Lake Michigan during the summer and a Southerly 115 Mk IV that they keep in Florida and sail during the winter. For their Atlantic crossing they will be sailing with friends, another experienced sailing couple.

Chris is a retired business strategist who worked on high level plans routinely made five to 10 years in advance. So it is unsurprising that his ARC preparations are highly detailed. They give an interesting perspective on how to use the pooled expertise of a team to develop a readiness plan.

“If you have a team with the experience, knowledge and passion — all these three ingredients — a lot of stuff comes automatically as long as you give it time,” he observes.

The four friends have weekly conference calls that will continue until they begin sailing from France next summer. From these discussions, the couple have prepared a comprehensive plan covering 58 categories, each of which runs to as many as 12 pages. They cover everything from safety to water supplies, procedures onboard to spare parts, first aid kit and training, travel requirements and food.

“The list is extensive,” Chris says. “I am very big on contingency management so we have power from solar, a diesel genset, hydrogenerator and wind, and we have alternative ways of supplying water – including supplies if we need to rescue other crew and have another four or six people on board.”

Las Palmas gets busy at the start of the ARC, so plan ahead for essential maintenance. Photo: James Mitchell

In the food category is ‘a 21-day food plan with an additional 30-day contingency plan using dry foods or items in aseptic packaging’. Each topic has been divided into priorities and ‘nice-to-have areas’, such as carrying a good assortment of fishing gear and things to keep the crew entertained en route.

“We look at this as a fully cohesive integrated strategy,” he says.

The other benefit of tapping into the experience of others and involving them along the way is that you can share out responsibilities during the preparations.

“As in a business, one of the biggest signals to me is getting the right individuals. Do they come up with ideas and say they will do them? We have distributed areas and each has a project owner,” says Chris.

“Everybody is participating and that is a big part of developing the plan and making sure it is executed. Not only has my confidence grown, it has become more and more secure.”
Whenever you aim to leave, be sure to allow for sailing time as a crew beforehand. If your yacht is larger than you’re used to, if it’s not very familiar or you’ll be sailing two-up, take your time to build confidence.

You also need time and miles to find out if, for example, the watermaker works upwind on starboard tack or windows leak when it’s rough. You’ll want to practice emergency routines and MOB drills. Those are all best done near your home port.

“Factor in sea trials and the experience of living on board – and not just a weekend on the Solent but for several weeks,” says Jeremy Wyatt. “Then you will find out the things you want or need to change.”

“Most of all,” he adds, “don’t forget why you’re doing this. You are going to be busy; it may cost more than you planned. The more time you take to prepare, the more time you will get to enjoy the journey. When you leave you want to be stress free. You’ve done the hard work. Now you want to sail away and have fun.”

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The post How to prepare for an Atlantic crossing appeared first on Yachting World.

We hit a wave, the bow bouncing into the air. The roar reverberating from inside the covered cockpit intensifies and I look out of the bubble window to a wall of seemingly solid water rushing down the deck towards me. Medallia lurches, the water crashes into the window inches from my face then cascades down the open back of the cockpit, writes Pip Hare.

My fingers are curled around the edge of my carbon bucket seat. I need to ease the headsail, which I know will add some speed but the other side of the cockpit seems a long, treacherous journey away. I sit for a bit longer contemplating my moves while Medallia relentlessly thunders on.

Pip Hare finishing the 2020 Vendée Globe in 19th and 1st British skipper. Photo: Richard Langdon/Ocean Images

I spent my first few experiences sailing my new IMOCA in this sort of stunned state. The boat is incredible, it holds the course record for the Vendée Globe race, it is powerful – simple in some ways, complicated in others – and seemed like such a huge step up for a sailor like me. Sailing this fast is the most incredible experience but I wondered how long it would take for this speed and violent motion to become normal – or if it ever would.

It is not just the boat that has changed over the last year. I started my 2020 Vendée Globe race as a rank outsider in an old yacht, having pulled a campaign together with crowdfunding, a lot of hard graft, and support from friends and strangers alike. But now I find myself as skipper and CEO of a fully professional offshore racing team.

We employ 13 people across the whole business, our focus is on delivering elite sporting performance and a solid tangible return to our sponsors. I am an athlete, a business person, a figurehead and I have responsibilities that weigh much heavier on a sailor than navigating any Southern Ocean storm.

The transition to this new state has been rapid. I’ve had to learn along the way and at times the business has paralysed me in the same way the boat did on the first few sessions. But one of the great attributes we have as human beings is our ability to adapt. My ‘new normal’ is a million miles away from what life looked like in 2019.

Fast track foiling

The new Medallia 2 racing along on foils. Richard Langdon/Ocean Images /Pip Hare Ocean Racing

The best part of my job is, of course, the sailing. I’m not embarrassed to say that although the boat we chose as our next IMOCA was exactly the boat that I wanted, the first few times I sailed it I was intimidated by its pedigree. You do not want to lose control in a 60ft boat with 550-plus square metres of sail.

The mechanics of sailing the new boat are reassuringly familiar and most definitely easier to manage than on Superbigou. All sails can be managed from the covered cockpit and a central pedestal. The mast track has locks to hold the head of the main in position on each reef point (no more trips forward to reef).

Above: launching the new foiling Medallia, formerly Bureau Vallée 2/Banque Populaire VIII. Photo: Richard Langdon/Ocean Images /Pip Hare Ocean Racing

The keel can be moved at the touch of a button and lines are positioned with corresponding halyards and tacks on opposite sides of the boat so winches can be loaded pre-manoeuvre and left. These details make a difference, and I quite quickly felt confident managing the boat on my own.

I got used to the foils in a ‘painting by numbers’ mode last year. Put them out above seven knots of boat speed and they will start to improve righting moment, allowing more power through the main. From 7 knots to about 18 knots of boat speed there is not that much difference in how the boat feels, it is just faster with the foils.

Above 20 knots of boat speed is when the magic happens. This is when the bow starts to lift out of the water and the boat becomes animal. I played around with this, following the tuning guide and having fun with the speed, but never felt I was getting the most out of the boat.

Medallia getting ready to launch. Photo: Richard Langdon/Ocean Images /Pip Hare Ocean Racing

This season, with a new set of sails and having the confidence of a full and thorough refit, I worked for a couple of weeks with coaches to help me understand using my foils properly at speed. As with sailing a skiff, it is about keeping the bow up enough to clear the water, but not so much that you ‘wheelie’ or take off. This can be controlled with foil rake (we can rake them forwards up to 5° to lift off more) and fierce management of the ballast and sails stacking.

I’ve learned to feel the boat trim and when I need to lift the bow. Keel angle is also vital in this equation: above 20 knots of boat speed and the keel starts to provide negative righting moment. In simple terms it starts acting as a foil lifting the boat out of the water, so at high speeds the keel angle needs to be dropped to maintain control and for extra speed.

Keeping the bow up to clear the water –but not too much – is the key to extra speed with Medallia. Photo: Richard Langdon/Ocean Images /Pip Hare Ocean Racing

Pip Hare’s full schedule

My race calendar for 2022 is busy. I have three solo races, and will be taking part in the Round Britain and Ireland Race with a full crew of five. The boat must be at the race village up to two weeks ahead of each solo event, and then there are deliveries to and from each start and finish.

This takes out nine weeks from 39 weeks on the water. I will be spending around five weeks racing. Then, so long as we have no major failures, I have reluctantly agreed to a roughly 60/40 custody share of the boat with my shore team. That leaves just 15 weeks to train.

Working with team technical director Joff Brown. Photo: Richard Langdon/Ocean Images /Pip Hare Ocean Racing

Once again my performance goals are a steep, hard climb. My overall aim for this year is to learn to sail this boat to its full potential in its current configuration.

Medallia is a 2015 Verdier/VPLP design, it was the first generation of boats designed with foils (rather than have them retrofitted) and the only one of its generation which is still running on small foils. Foiling is a new experience for me, so my objectives for 2022 include learning how to sail well with the original foils. I will be changing to big ones in early 2023.

To fast track this I’ll be working with coaches – but even this is not simple. The IMOCA class is booming, and many people I might turn to for advice are already working with other teams or have projects of their own. This forced me to look outside the world of solo racing and begin working with coaches from fully crewed teams.

Training with Medallia in the Canary Islands. Photo: Richard Langdon/Ocean Images /Pip Hare Ocean Racing

This, it transpired, has been a stroke of genius. Jack Bouttell and Ben Schwarz both raced around the world in the Volvo Ocean Race and are now on the Jules Verne crew for the maxi trimaran Spindrift. Having them on board has given me the opportunity to experience the ‘no excuses’ approach of the fully crewed world.

Richard Langdon/Ocean Images /Pip Hare Ocean Racing

We have worked on sail crossovers for my new sails, polars, trim books (a manual of sail settings, foil adjustment, stacking positions and much more for all possible conditions), instrument calibration, autopilot settings, and so much more. At times all I could do was watch as this well-oiled team of strong, younger men put my boat through its paces. But with each gear change I learned and questioned, and felt how my boat should be when it is fully arced up and raging.

I can’t sail exactly like them. I’m a 48-year-old woman, alone, managing sails which are way in excess of my bodyweight. But now I have sailed with them I go out alone and realise I can achieve the same performance on my own – and when I am there I can sustain it. I just won’t be up there all of the time.

Athlete’s life

Fitness training, diet, and sleep are also important parts of my routine and, as ever, hard to manage. My age is something that can’t be avoided. I’ll be 50 when I start the next Vendée Globe. At a time in life when many people are moving on to more gentle physical activities, I’ll be making my debut as a full-time professional athlete.

Pip’s calendar includes the 2022 Vendée Arctique and Route du Rhum; 2023 Transat Jacques Vabre; and 2024 Transat before the Vendée Globe. Photo: Richard Langdon/Ocean Images /Pip Hare Ocean Racing

I need to work on my strength constantly, building muscle is essential to managing the enormous loads on the boat injury free. The only way I can build that strength is through focussed gym sessions and good nutrition. When you spend your life on the road, living out of Airbnb apartments and travelling to presentations, routine is near impossible.

Working with personal trainer Rob Stewart, we run three 6am sessions a week in my garage gym when I am home, and I fit weight training sessions in on other days. If I’m not sailing, I will add an hour of cardio training (usually running), while on sailing days the cardio takes care of itself.

My diet is proving harder to manage. In truth I seldom leave myself enough time to shop well and prepare good quality regular meals. The irony is that I eat best when I am racing because I am forced to plan my meals ahead.

Behind the scenes

Our shore team has grown, and they too have a big job to keep our beast of a boat in good condition. Joff Brown has stayed as technical director to the team and brings 20-plus years experience of running IMOCA racing programs. A winter refit allowed us to ‘undo’ Medallia’s post-Vendée fatigue. Now the team are focussed on keeping everything running, and working with me to develop and adapt, to make the boat faster, to make my life easier.

We’re moving away from the ‘keep it safe’ ethos that underlined boat preparation in my last campaign towards ‘make it fast’. The team is obsessed with details, weight saving, efficiency – and they need to be.

It has been very important for me to offer entry level jobs to young people as well as ensuring a high level of knowledge and experience within the shore team. Finding the right people has not been easy – many people apply for sailing positions on the team, but finding people who genuinely want to make a career in technical boat preparation has been hard. We are still relatively small compared to many of the IMOCA teams, so everyone has to take responsibility for their areas.

I have less to do with the boat preparation that I am used to. I hand over at the end of each day on the water; we talk through problems, suggestions, work up the job list. Joff is also working on planning for our 2023 refit. We’ll be working with designer Guillaume Verdier and Kevin Escoffier from team PRB on the new foil design. Building work starts this summer and installation will be at Carringtons in early 2023.

Money talks

Lou Adams is Pip Hare Ocean Racing’s head of business and operations. Photo: Pip Hare Ocean Racing

The other side of the team is the business. It is the engine that drives us all forwards, but it is not glamorous and is the bit that seems to suck my time. Lou Adams has taken over full time as head of business and operations. It has been a real relief to step back from the day-to-day running of our team, which is complex and complicated.

In the same way that Formula 1 teams pack up and move their operation to a different race track every few weeks, so we need to arrive at different venues, fully functional with a mobile workshop, tools, spares, and support boat. My only job now is to turn up with the boat and the rest happens around me. I cannot explain what a weight off my shoulders this is (though I still feel a little like a prima donna).

But when it comes to dealing with fundraising, finances and sponsor obligations, I cannot walk away. We are a team, and we race as a team – albeit in my name. However, as CEO and spokesperson, much of my time needs to be spent with the people who fund us (or who we would like to fund us).

As a naturally shy person I have had to learn to speak in public, to have the confidence to sell myself in meetings and it is still a struggle for me to come to terms with presenting myself as anything other than very normal. But, together with Lou, I have worked hard on developing a way to collaborate with our sponsors that genuinely brings them into the team, and addresses what they want out of a partnership.

Pip was awarded the RYS Francis Chichester Trophy, among many accolades. Photo: Pip Hare Ocean Racing

The most stressful part of my job is managing the finances. We are a small team reaching high, and managing our cashflow is a huge challenge. I feel the weight of responsibility towards employees, subcontractors, and sponsors enormously and I am not oblivious to the world at large: we are in an immensely privileged position and I feel accountable for making the most of what we have on every level.

Most months I have big decisions to make that could change the course of the campaign. We need to sign more sponsors to complete our funding package and for both Lou and I this is constantly in the front of our minds. Although the last Vendée Globe race had a lot of mainstream media coverage, sailing is still a lesser known sport to sell.

Upping the ante

The world of IMOCA sailing has changed incredibly in the short four years that I have been involved and solo ocean racing is enjoying something of a heyday right now. The 2020 Vendée Globe race really highlighted the value of this international sporting event and there has been a big influx of sponsors into the class. This translates to more teams of a higher calibre.

Not only is there fierce competition on the water but we’ll also be fighting for places on the start line. In every other edition of the race, finishing the previous Vendée Globe race gave a skipper automatic qualification to the next. Not so this time round.

There will be 40 places available on the start in November 2024; 13 of these will be given over to new boats (there are 14 new boats in build), one is a wild card at the organisers’ discretion and the remaining 26 places must be earned by skippers competing in and finishing IMOCA races.

On a global level this is incredible for the sport. It means more events, more races to follow, more chances to compete. On the other it has upped the ante in an event which was already tough. We need to race and I need to finish. This adds up to more miles on the boat, more budget to raise, more time and resources to keep everything in the best condition. Every time we race there is risk. If we don’t race the risk is bigger.

The shore team takes over when the boat is in dock. Photo: Pip Hare Ocean Racing

There’s always too much to do and each day I need to try to work out the most important thing for the campaign. This level of pressure has been normal to me for a few years and I’m used to it. Now, at least on land, I have my team to shoulder the load.

The one thing that grounds me, the reason it’s all worthwhile, is the fact that I now find sailing at over 25 knots normal.

I’m constantly filled with wonder and amazement at what I, a small human being, can get this boat to do. Being alone in the ocean allows me to step away from the reluctant businesswoman I have had to become. I have so much to learn, I want to become a completely different sailor over the next few years, but getting to grips with a foiling IMOCA is blowing my mind.

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Not for the first time, the Royal Cruising Club’s wonderful annual journal Roving Commissions has turned up a jewel of seamanship. Delving into the 2021 edition I found an account by Francis Hawkings entitled ‘Three lucky escapes to Japan’. The article comes in two sections. The first describes a passage from California to Hawaii, two-handed on his Tradewind 35 Plainsong with his son-in-law.

As is so often the case these days, the trades largely fail to oblige and the passage is not without incident. Hawkings goes on to make the run from Hawaii to Japan single-handed. He finds himself confronted by challenges aplenty but deals with them in a relaxed and seamanlike manner, describing the events with unusual clarity yet never losing the human touch.

He manages a potentially catastrophic cap shroud failure with what seems almost a shrug of the shoulders, then makes an assessment of how to cope with a truly ugly weather situation. The single-handed passage is recounted here in its entirety, including a final twist courtesy of Japanese bureaucracy.

Extract from Roving Commissions

Left Hawaii on 27 March and for the first two and a half weeks enjoyed the beautiful trade wind sailing that I’d not found before Hawaii. The dawns were stunning and the sunsets exquisite; the wind blew, gently, and the waves were very well behaved.

I took care of the boat in the morning and read a book in the afternoon. I got used to the solitude, though with a satellite phone, and therefore unlimited texts, ‘solitude’ in the 2020s takes on a rather attenuated meaning, and came to terms with the beautiful enormity and emptiness of the Pacific.

I slept in 60- to 90-minute increments at night and felt remarkably untired. The going was not my fastest but I was making around 800 miles a week in the right direction and feeling pretty content. My biggest concern was that I was about to finish Barak Obama’s excellent memoir A Promised Land. Until, that is, lolling on my bunk on 13 April, about 10° deep into the Eastern Hemisphere and well over the International Date Line, I heard a loud crack on deck.

Francis Hawkings aboard Plainsong at dawn off Honolulu. Photo: Michael Milton

I didn’t hurry unduly to get up but would have done if I’d realised what the problem was: I had lost my windward cap shroud. It turned out that water had seeped under the port chainplate, which is in effect a D-ring bolted through the deck, and corroded the nuts holding the bolts on the underside of the deck; eventually the nuts disintegrated and the bolts pulled up through the deck. Bleak thoughts of being dismasted thousands of miles from anywhere.

At this point a series of lucky breaks set in. First and foremost, the wind was pretty light and I hadn’t lost my mast. In addition, because of the bounty of the cutter rig, I was able to cannibalise the nuts off the inner forestay, which I figured wasn’t so critical to the rig’s structural integrity.

By a miracle, both sets of nuts were accessible and the same size; the threads on the cap shroud bolts were more or less undamaged; the fitting had come up cleanly and not enlarged the holes through the deck; and the through-bolts were welded to the D-ring above the deck, so I didn’t need a second pair of hands to hold anything on deck while I tightened the nuts below. Within three hours we were cautiously under way again.

Fair breezes and rain showers on passage from California to Hawaii. Photo: Michael Milton

The following day I jury rigged the inner forestay using the stemhead fitting. So we were back to full sail plan again and this arrangement saw us through another 2,500 miles and two gales. Having escaped from lockdown, this was escape number two.

Kirk Patterson, my ever-present satphone consultant, put a damper on my rigging celebrations the following day by telling me about a typhoon forming in the vicinity of the Philippines, beyond the range of the GRIB files I was looking at. In the next few days this strengthened into what I subsequently learned was super typhoon Surigae, one of the most intense tropical cyclones on record.

For me, happily ignorant of that, the question was how to avoid it if, as is typical, the typhoon swung north-east away from the Philippines and out towards my course.

Not the sort of forecast anyone wants to see. Photo: PredictWind

The question was made more tricky by the fact that Surigae hung around the Philippines and strengthened for about a week or so, which made it very hard for the forecasters to agree on where it might go once it got moving.

Several predicted a relatively easterly course, in which case Surigae would pass south of me. But there were always one or two outlier forecasts suggesting a more north-easterly course, in which case the typhoon would be ahead of me. To thread the needle between these two scenarios I needed to be sufficiently far north to avoid the easterly path but not too far west.

Boxed in

The obvious solution was to sail north-west. But there was a problem: to the north there was a fairly vigorous low which was producing gale force northerlies, north-westerlies and westerlies around its western and southern circumference. I couldn’t sail far north or north-west because doing so would have taken me straight into these gales. I was boxed in.

My solution was to head in a north-westerly direction up to 28°N from 24°N and then sail due west. This was designed to keep me sufficiently far north to avoid the most likely path of the typhoon and yet not so far north that I was exposed to a full gale from the low. And indeed it did: I didn’t experience sustained winds from the low of more than 35 knots, with only occasional full gale gusts. But I did have to heave-to for the best part of a day, costing me valuable escape time from Surigae, which was now, it was confirmed, tracking along the relatively easterly path and headed to pass south of me.

After almost two weeks of typhoon anxiety the denouement was forecast to come on 26 April. But at the last minute – by now weakening and an extratropical cyclone of less than typhoon strength – Surigae jinked to the north-east.

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I stopped congratulating myself on having evaded its path. The wind steadily increased during the morning of 26 April and backed from south-east to north-east. The barometer was plunging. The rain became intense. By early afternoon I realised that storm jib alone was too much sail; eventually the Monitor, which is a remarkable self-steerer, couldn’t cope, we gybed, and were lying uncomfortably crosswise to the waves, which were pretty big and angry (and, I will admit, a bit frightening).

Good storms are all alike; every bad storm is bad in its own way. The trouble with bad storms is that your normal defences (heaving to, running under storm jib, etc) don’t work and you are experimenting to find the right solution.

I hand steered for a couple of hours while trying out different rigs. Storm jib was too much but Plainsong wouldn’t run under bare poles and Monitor alone; she wasn’t going fast enough and kept getting pushed crosswise again as the waves came up under her counter. The key was to move fast enough but keep the stern as straight on to the following sea as possible. I thought that a drogue would slow her down too much and didn’t want to have the recovery challenge from a failed experiment.

Plainsong at Naoshima, Japan. Photo: Michael Milton

In the middle of all this the rain stopped and a hole of blue sky opened above us. I wondered whether we were in what was left of the eye and feared a sudden shift of wind direction and an even more confused sea. But it kept blowing steadily in the low 40s and gusting, at its maximum, into the 50s while continuing to back through north.

Eventually the right combination was a tiny triangle of yankee, barely more than the reinforced corner of the sail unfurled from the furler, plus a warp and chain streamed astern. By late afternoon the wind had reached north-west, the barometer was rising and the edge was coming off both the gusts and the waves.

So, on what turned into a bright sunny evening, albeit still windy, I was celebrating the fact that nothing had broken or gone wrong. In retrospect, I estimate that I was perhaps some 120 miles west of the eye at its closest point of approach.

It was my third lucky escape, both because I stayed in the better sector of a now-weakened cyclone and because later that day Surigae began to undergo ‘explosive cyclogenesis’ once it had passed me, with 10­ minute maximum sustained winds of 70 knots.

I had about 100 miles left to run and 24 hours after my Surigae moment I could resume my course to the west. I told myself that now, with the typhoon threat passed, I didn’t care what the weather did and revelled in some light air and diminishing seas in the following days.

About 400 miles from Japan the Japanese authorities, through Kirk, started pressing more insistently for an ETA. It was made clear that once I’d specified an ETA, I mustn’t be late and it wouldn’t do to be early. I was to behave, in other words, like a ship.

Fenders ready, Plainsong approaches Tannowa. Photo: Michael Milton

The problem was that the forecasts for the next few days were all over the place, mostly light and contrary, and I needed to negotiate the Kuroshio current which would run at three knots or so for a while but which, like the Gulf Stream, was meandery and hard to pin down until you were in it.

I had no real idea when I would arrive. But I was making progress. Once I’d passed the line of offshore islands running roughly south from Tokyo I could tell that things were changing. I was visited by a swallow which did a lap of the boat and headed back to the mainland, a magic moment between two voyagers.

[As] my AIS screen changed from the beautiful blank of the open ocean to a chaos of up to 35 vessels or so at any one time, it was clear I was reaching the known world again. In the end, I decided to do a sustained stint of motoring to get across the shipping lane and because this would put me within striking distance of a predictable ETA. It was boring but it paid off: I was able to set sail again for my last night on the open sea. Sunrise on the morning of 8 May revealed, along with intense coastal shipping, the beautiful green and grey shades of hills on the southernmost tip of Honshu, Japan’s largest island.

Coasting

During the day I sailed up the narrowing funnel of Kii Suido which separates Honshu from Shikoku, the next large island to the west. An ocean voyage turned into a coastal day sail as towns came into view, tiny white fishing boats surprised the life out of me in the haze and I swept between two islands on a fair tide, a smooth sea and a moderate breeze on the beam.

Given the times of these tides, in order not to be late for my ETA I had to arrive way too early. But since I was way too early, I couldn’t arrive (I wasn’t allowed to anchor, since that would have been penetrating Japanese soil). So I spent the night hove-to off the entrance to Tannowa, drifting this way and that.

I was annoyed at the bureaucracy but by the time a beautiful dawn arrived, I couldn’t care less; nothing could spoil my good mood. Finally, after 42 days at sea I moored alongside the Q dock in Tannowa Yacht Harbour at 1001 on 9 May. I was, to my shame, one minute late because, at the last moment, I changed my mind about which direction to lie and had to switch the fenders.

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The notion of conducting scientific research or citizen science on a yacht can sound intimidating. It conjures up images of experts in white coats, working in clinical laboratories. The idea that the average sailor can carry out meaningful experiments on a conventional yacht, without special equipment or giving up all their precious sailing time, might seem far-fetched.

However, with so many ‘citizen science’ projects appealing for volunteer sailors to help them gather data there are an increasing number of opportunities to embrace your inner marine biologist.

Given the relative difficulty of getting out to sea for any length of time and the enormous size of the world’s oceans it’s easy to see why marine scientists face particular challenges in collecting sufficient data, but this is where bluewater sailors may be able to help.

Changes in the ocean can have enormous effects on land, from weather patterns to food production to travel. When famed sailor and ARC founder Jimmy Cornell set out to update his book Cornell’s Ocean Atlas he was shocked by the changes to currents in the ocean that had occurred even in his own lifetime. He was moved to add the following to the introduction of the 2nd edition: ‘Sailors are far more aware of what’s happening out in the oceans, and don’t question that change is taking place, [they] just simply deal with it. And anyone who doesn’t believe it’s happening should just go out and sail the Northwest Passage.’

Cornell’s work has long included mapping changes that are occurring to the ocean environment and climate. To this end he reached out to several scientific organisations, and on his 2014 Aventura IV expedition participated in the Secchi Disk Foundation’s study.

The Secchi Disk Foundation’s study is a long-term citizen science project which has just entered its 10th year. The programme studies the density of phytoplankton in the world’s oceans, which are essential to every part of sea life as well as our own on earth.

Seawater samples being collected in the South Pacific. Photo: Amory Ross/Lines to Hawaii

Phytoplankton is responsible for the photosynthesis process which produces oxygen. It was a paper released in Nature magazine 12 years ago that showed the microscopic marine life’s numbers had declined by 40% that spurred former research fellow of the Royal Society, Dr Richard Kirby, to found the Secchi Disk study.

Long term project

“Phytoplankton is the grass of the sea,” explains Dr Kirby. “Not only does it give us the oxygen we breathe, it feeds giant whales, it feeds the fish that feed birds and seals, and the polar bears that feed on the seals. It’s a linchpin of the world’s ecosystem.”

He says that citizen science has many advantages over standard research methods. “It’s very hard to find funding for large research projects, especially if you need to hire a research vessel to go to the deep ocean.

Documented seawater samples to check on plastics contamination. Photo: Amory Ross/Lines to Hawaii

“On top of that it’s hard to find funding to return to the same place. When applying for a grant people are always looking for something new, but for many sailors it is normal to return to the same places again and again and so it’s a great resource for collecting data on the change in the environment in that location. Sailors that regularly make transatlantic crossings, for example, are a great resource.”

Golden Globe Race competitor Susie Goodall took a Secchi disk with her when she was making a transatlantic crossing in preparation for the race. She recalls: “About halfway across from Antigua the water very dramatically changed colour and the readings went from 50-60m down to 20m in the space of a couple of days – I then had marine life with me again.”

Sailors can also provide a valuable opportunity for scientists to collect data from less visited regions. Jimmy Cornell sailed with his daughter, Doina, on his high latitudes Aventura IV expedition. Doina explained: “Having read up on the objectives of the Secchi project we knew it was important to get readings, to help build a larger database, and had talked to Dr Kirby about how important it is to get sailors to participate who’d be going to remote parts of the world no one else would be visiting.

“We also knew there hadn’t been readings in the Arctic at that point,” she said.

Other opportunities

While the Secchi Disk Foundation is still welcoming volunteers, there are a wealth of other projects also looking for help from citizen scientist sailors. Oliver Beardon runs Sail Britain, a project that offers the opportunity to conduct experiments at sea aboard the project’s own Sigma 41 yacht, including studying microplastic pollution and tracking marine mammals.

Boomed out net collecting microplastics samples. Photo: Sail Britain

“Sailors have a privileged access to the sea, and can therefore much more easily and economically facilitate the collection of oceanographic and environmental data than research teams who may have to charter vessels at great expense. We’re out there all the time!” Beardon explains.

“Everyone can get involved with learning more about the ocean. If you have a boat and would like to contribute to marine citizen science, making contact with a research partner or team who needs the data you can collect is useful.”

He’s right, many research institutes or universities we spoke to confirmed that they’d jump at the chance to have sailors help collect data for them, so reaching out to the marine science department of your local university can be a great starting point.

Susie Goodall and a Secchi disk. Photo: Secchi Disk Foundation

In 2013 Paul Bennett and his wife, Lani, set off to circumnavigate the world with their three daughters. While looking for engaging educational projects suitable for three teenagers they got involved with several citizen science volunteer programmes, which gave the Bennetts a great opportunity to learn about marine science. The family contacted local marine science organisations wherever they lay anchor, adapting their route accordingly:

“We target it,” explained Paul, “After the first [project] we looked for ways to integrate it. Citizen science opens up all sorts of opportunities tied to the location.”

The Bennetts have engaged in really hands-on citizen science projects all over the world, from tagging whale sharks in Cape Radd in South Africa to helping rebuild coral reefs and testing water quality in the Malacca Strait in Indonesia.

Cleo Bennett, the middle daughter, has just finished high school on the boat and is taking a gap year to stay on board. They are currently moored in South Africa and she continues to volunteer at the local aquarium. She says her experiences with citizen science had changed her perspective on the ocean: “I think we’ve seen more dead coral reefs than live ones. And dead coral reefs aren’t the same as bleached, you can rescue bleached coral reefs, dead ones aren’t coming back.”

The Bennetts not only continue to build opportunities for citizen science into the syllabus for their own children’s schooling, but started a business connecting online tutors with parents who want to teach their kids remotely and incorporate project and volunteer work.

“Raising three teens on a boat while sailing around the world has been challenging, especially when it comes to school. Cicero (cicerolearning.com), which is the company we just started to help boat schoolers like ourselves find and hire private teachers, does a lot of project-based learning programs, which often have a citizen science or volunteer aspect.”

First hand experience

In the 1960s marine biologist Scott Johnson was based in the Pacific’s Marshal Islands studying how biological activity affected the redistribution of radioactive particles left from nuclear testing in the 1940s and 1950s. He began documenting the local sea flora and fauna, but once internet connection became more widespread on the islands he was able to reach out to others to help.

Cleo and Jade Bennett collecting net samples on board Daphne II. Photo: Paul Bennett

What began as a simple website to share photos of colourful nudibranchs (otherwise known as sea slugs) quickly led to other contributors sharing their images and has now developed into a far more comprehensive study of local coral, sea slugs and all types of marine life than had been collected before. Similar projects include Redmap, which asks Austrlian water users to spot, log and map unusual sightings of marine species.

Johnson sees the changes sailors in the region have witnessed as a warning: “Excess carbon dioxide is acidifying the oceans, causing increasing problems for animals that require calcium for shells, coral skeletons, and the like. Increasing water temperature is having increasing effects on marine animal distribution and populations, as well as causing widespread damage to coral reefs through coral bleaching.

“I fear that the site might simply become a record of what used to be in the Marshall Islands, not what still is.”

One of the major barriers for marine scientists is the lack of time spent in the field. With the conflicting time demands of teaching, sourcing grants and funding, and supervising laboratory work, there’s often precious little opportunity for scientists to make first-hand observations. Hence, patterns or habits that might seem obvious to locals or cruising sailors in the region might never have actually been seen by a scientist. It is that shared knowledge that holds one of the greatest benefits for scientists.

Scott Johnson recalls meeting a marine biologist in the Pacific: “A visiting researcher was an expert on crown-of-thorns starfish, a species that eats coral and occasionally undergoes population blooms that damage coral reefs. In conversation over dinner he mentioned that no one really knew where the juvenile crown-of-thorns starfish were; the adults just seemed to appear on the reefs fully grown. Well, probably any interested amateur who’d spent time looking for nudibranchs or seashells could have told him the tiny starfish lived under rocks, where presumably they could avoid being eaten by fish.”

By bridging the gap between local knowledge and scientific research, bluewater sailors can help make real improvements in scientists’ understanding of the sea and climate change.

How to get involved with citizen science on a yacht

Below is a list of organisations with ongoing projects which sailors can get involved with:

Secchi Disk Foundation
secchidiskfoundation.org

Sail Britain
sailbritain.org

Hebridean Whale and Dolphin Trust
hwdt.org

Kwajalein Underwater
Photographic record of marine life in the Marshall Islands.
underwaterkwaj.com

Redmap
Australian marine life mapping
redmap.org.au

Adventure Scientists
Citizen science projects including coral mapping in Mexico
adventurescientists.org

Seakeepers’ SARAH initiative
Onboard kit to conduct experiments, plus hosting opportunities.
seakeepers.org

Plymouth Marine Laboratory
Numerous projects with a range of volunteer options.
pml.ac.uk

Debris Tracker
App for tracking ocean plastics
debristracker.org

Globe Observer
Mixing photography and satellite images to map weather patterns.
observer.globe.gov

The National Ocean Service
Home of several marine citizen science projects running in the US.
oceanservice.noaa.gov

Marine Biological Association
UK sea life and non-native species survey.
mba.ac.uk/citizen-science

European Marine Board
Lots of activities and webinars.
marineboard.eu/activities

Manta Trust
Taking photos of manta rays to identify migration patterns.
mantatrust.org/idthemanta

Just One Ocean
Includes a microplastics survey.
justoneocean.org

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Yachting World is the world’s leading magazine for bluewater cruisers and offshore sailors. Every month we have inspirational adventures and practical features to help you realise your sailing dreams.

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Our desire for almost constant communication and messaging, even when onboard, and our reliance on the internet continues to soar. Technology and the ability to stay in touch has allowed many sailors to take their work with them afloat and go ocean sailing while still employed or running a business. (That said, for many of us the joy of losing signal and truly switching off remains a key lure of sailing offshore!).

Indeed, an increasing number of cruisers make a living from showcasing their lifestyle afloat in vlog-style videos and social media posts. And for that you need high speed internet through wifi or 4G/cellular networks.

If you’re thinking of going further afield, to cross an ocean you’ll need longer range communication devices to remain just an email or phone call away.

Equally your needs should/will be paired down, probably to the odd email or weather forecast while on passage. However, balancing just what you need or want and how much you’re willing to spend to attain that is not as straightforward as you might think.

To help understand and decide on options, we sought the feedback of the 216 skippers who took part in the Atlantic Rally for Cruisers (ARC) last year. We also spoke with industry experts about the current options for those wanting to buy or upgrade satellite communications.

If you’re looking for a guide for what’s available on the market right now, don’t miss our guide to the best satellite phones for sailors.

Many were still debugging their systems come the Las Palmas start. Photo: James Mitchell/WCC

Speccing up

ARC organisers, the World Cruising Club (WCC), insist that all yachts sailing in their transocean rallies must carry long-range communication equipment. Yachting World has partnered with WCC for the last two decades to issue ARC participants with our ’Great Atlantic Gear Survey’. The 216 skippers of the combined ARC 2021 crossings shared their communications setups, while 70 respondents gave us feedback on 30 detailed questions all about their satellite devices, costs, airtime, apps etc…

From former ARC surveys we know the majority regularly choose Iridium as it has a full, intelligible range of options and is the only brand with full global coverage. But it’s not just about picking the satellite provider. Selecting which type of hardware suits your needs (handheld or fixed with separate antenna), what airtime package, whether you want a router and perhaps a dedicated marine service for setup, email compression, support, and weather forecasting, is all budget relevant and should be a factor in your decisions.

The pace of satellite communication technology is slow, nevertheless these are still phones we’re talking about here, so people always want the latest!

A full 90% of our survey respondents, for example, only had their data comms equipment installed since 2019 and many were still debugging their systems come the Las Palmas start.

Iridium’s new Certus system has been in the pipeline for some years now and there were a few yachts which carried its higher-end 700 system last year. The more compact and economic 200 and 100 systems launched last summer, though, and will doubtless be in demand for those crossing this year and in the near future.

A simple handheld is typically the slowest yet most intuitive of satcomm options. Photo: Tor Johnson

Basic / handset satellite communication options

The choice at the most affordable end of the scale is to go for a portable or handheld style satphone, a compact unit with its own aerial, such as Inmarsat’s Isatphone or Iridium’s 9555 or 9575. The latter were carried by 15 of our 70 skippers.

Other than economy, the benefit of a handheld device with a keypad is arguably the ability to dial a number easily when in trouble and take it with you in a grab bag.

Walkabout, an Oceanis 45, has a second-hand 9555 (€800 from MailASail). “It worked okay but we found that text messages often got chopped off,” says Andrew Roantree. “Texting on an Iridium sat phone is really useful – but very painful to do!” he warns.

By far the most popular option carried last ARC was the Iridium GO (chosen by 47 out of 70 skippers).

A relatively economical portable device, this essentially has the same internal parts as Iridium’s handsets but without the numeric keypad. Instead they offer an easy way to create a wifi hub at sea for using mobile devices.

GO has been marketed at attractive prices in recent years, particularly through PredictWind. This, together with an original promise of ‘unlimited data’ for around US$125 per month made it appealing, although it is speed capped at the industry standard of 2.4kbps.

Weather forecasting and routing is a prime use of satcomms. Photo: TimBisMedia

This means it’s as slow as a handheld, or less than 5% of the speed of 1990s dial-up internet! In practice, it’s enough to receive email and the odd GRIB file but can’t do chat apps. It needs a paired mobile phone to make voice calls and only certain apps work with it.

The majority of the 2021 ARC fleet were content with this though, and said they wouldn’t change their GO setup if doing it again.

There were many comments on data connection being slow and dropping off, but there was also a general assumption and acknowledgement that they knew that would probably be the case.

Make mine GO

Coco, a Lucia 40 catamaran, used GO with Iridium Mail and PredictWind: “The calls would briefly drop out, but only due to the device being situated inside,” skipper Alfie Moore reports. “It reconnected to the call quickly when signal was reestablished. The app would sometimes glitch, there are a few bugs that need ironing out within the app interface and the Offshore weather app could also do with a few upgrades. But in general it was a fantastic device and certainly helped us in the situations we were in during the crossing.” An external antenna is one of the only additions he would consider.

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Amanaki’s crew, using the same package, rates it for value for money. “Recommend people buy second-hand units on ebay and the PredictWind packages”. Equally, the Dutch on Hallberg-Rassy 46 Morgane of Sark were very happy with their GO and MailASail app, at a cost of €800 plus €170 per month for unlimited data and 150 mins.

The Norwegian skipper of Albicilla spent only €700 on his GO and €110 per month on airtime, running Iridium Mail and PredictWind and admitted: “Slow as hell, but works good for what you really need! GRIB + simple email.”

“Well, the speed was as low as expected, but we could live with it,” says Just4fun’s Thomas Klaus Henkelmann. “Sometimes it took up to 20 dial-in attempts before a connection was made… annoying.”

For others, it tested their patience. “The Iridium GO system is such old technology,” thinks Jim Davies on the First 40 Olympia’s Tigress. “It regularly dropped data calls, especially if run for long periods. The nature of the data service on the Certus system is much more user friendly in a modern world. I have no interest in streaming while at sea, but low text services like WhatsApp (with media downloads turned off) are useful…”

Davies adds: “The Ocens OneMail service is great as it allows you to check your own email address through GO. Also, the PredictWind Offshore app is superb for low data rate GRIB downloads.”

They require patience but the simplicity of a handheld satphone with keypad still appeals. Photo: James Mitchell/WCC

The Valgrens on their Hallberg-Rassy 44 Pleasure found they had to restart their GO on a regular basis (1-2 times a day). “Moving the laptop closer to device improved the connection. An Android mobile seemed to handle the connection in a better way [than using a laptop with Windows].”

Perhaps the best summary of GO, however, was from Bavaria 51 Favorita of Hamble’s Barnaby Green: “We might trade up to a faster connection but not sure why. GO was sold as a basic entry level with low expectations but I thought it was excellent. Reliable. Portable. Transferable. Affordable. Slow.”

The majority chose the simple option of an Iridium GO and no router, but, as Jeremy Willems on Shadow of Black, one of the smaller yachts, warns: “We did need to have the intervention of the chap from MailASail to get it working properly”. (It should be noted they only purchased their equipment two months before the ARC). MailASail is a marine communication specialist and WCC partner, which has had support staff at Las Palmas for the ARC start for the last two decades.

Over half didn’t use a smart router (41/70), while 21 skippers used MailASail’s RedBox. Data compression tools such as this and the rival Redport can save airtime charges by optimising email and web use, act as a wifi hub and can integrate cellular and wifi extenders.

The ability to download GRIB files mid ocean is a priorty for ARC skippers. Photo: James Mitchell/WCC

Mid range satellite communication systems

For those not happy with the ultra slow speeds typically offered by the portable/handset style devices, the mid range choice can offer a step change in speeds (100-200kbps). Until now, this has meant a severe increase in price (from €5,000 for hardware). Again, Certus may now address that.

Some GO users (including Just4Fun and Sundance II) say they’d prefer a more broadband-based option such as Inmarsat’s Fleet One. Maalu IV, Joia and Tortuga ran this system through a Red Box router (equipment cost €3-5,000) and all commented that it worked ‘perfectly’ or ‘flawlessly’.

MailASail RedBox PRO Ultra Router

The German crew on CNB 60 Dumia, on the same setup, elaborated further: “We needed special help from MailASail – very professional and it led to a very stable and reliable installation. I followed the advice from WCC regarding installation in due time and we were very happy with this.”

Conversely, the Leests on Sandy Cay felt the expenditure (€5,000 equipment, €2,500 installation, €400 for airtime for crossing) didn’t merit the rewards… “from other sailors I understand that they had the same services with an Iridium GO, which is a lot less expensive to install.”

Airtime & communication apps

Similar to choosing a cellular/mobile phone, it’s not just about the hardware. Selecting the right amount of data and airtime to suit your needs is key.

Again, the most common set up was Iridium GO, Iridium Mail and PredictWind. Thirty skippers purchased airtime through PredictWind, 15 through MailASail.

“Loved PredictWind support and pricing,” says Amanaki’s Oliver Vauvelle. “No need for an external antenna and reasonable connectivity for the price. Decent voice calls as well”.

Installing new satcomms equipment before the start of last year’s ARC. Photo: James Mitchell/WCC

LIV agrees: “PredictWind Unlimited for €140 per month was great. Not only did we have unlimited data and 150 voice minutes, we also got a tracking with the Iridium GO sending a GPS position report using SMS (text message) once per hour.” However, Zelda warns: “PredictWind Offshore worked only by email not directly with Iridium GO. Xgate had multiple errors that stopped data transfer”.

Choosing a specialist email provider can also be quite subjective. Emily Morgan used GO to run Airmail (Sailmail) with Iridium apps as backup from Global Telesat Communications. “GRIB files downloaded from Saildocs via Airmail, viewed in OpenCPN. Airmail filters emails so we only download the ones we want (approximately 12 received but eight actually downloaded per day),” says Anna Black.

The Swedes on Arcona 400 LIV found the Iridium Mail app “poor and always had to restart sending large mails with photos.”

Tilda’s Fabrizio Mancini advises others to download Iridium apps “on more than one smartphone because it allows several users.” The view from Walkabout, meanwhile, was: “MailASail systems and services are great and the service is personal and outstanding”.

When asked for feedback and any technical problems, half the skippers were either very satisfied or didn’t experience issues, other than the occasional dropped call or slow speeds.
Sebastian Gylling, sailing his fifth ARC on Eira, doesn’t think you need satcomms, only fitting them “because it was mandatory equipment,” while Scar Cat was left frustrated by recommendations that “were far more expensive than what I found on my own.”

Highly experienced skipper Dan Bower on Skyelark 2 using an Iridium handset, was one of very few RedBox users not to rate the router, finding the data compression inefficient.

Grace LR was also on the same system: “Difficult and long connection times despite having bought everything MailASail advised. I gave up using their weather info and used forecasts only from ARC.”

Lengthy downloads on Free Spirit (also on an Iridium handset and RedBox) led them to use their backup Garmin inReach to keep airtime economical. Rather than download GRIBs they got a weather router to email them forecasts.

Looking ahead

Like all marine equipment, satellite communications need to be reliable, so arguably the most important advice is to buy well in advance and test thoroughly before an ocean departure.

Don’t make decisions based purely on specification (seek a rounded combination of hardware/airtime/data optimisation and support plan if required) and don’t compare to land-based speeds (or expect anything close to them).

We have learned from the survey replies that there has been a shift to smaller/budget focussed setups. The majority of offshore sailors use Iridium and bought/used GO, primarily for its perceived ease and relative economy, and thanks to some good deals last year, particularly through PredictWind.

Hardware is only as good as its internal organs, and in the case of GO these are very similar to Iridium’s handsets as they have the same modules inside, MailASail’s Ed Wildgoose advises.

These are manufactured by various brands, but the supply pipeline started running out last year and satellite communication specialists warn of stock issues with many portable devices this year. As well as a global shortage of electronics, the invasion of Ukraine has also led to a huge demand there for handheld satphones.

A Certus future?

At the same time, we have seen the gradual evolution of a new crop of exciting new mid-range systems. While Inmarsat’s Fleet One is well established now, Iridium has been talking about implementing Certus for years and it was only in the second half of last year that the first yachts started carrying its 100 and 200 systems.

These represent a step change for sailors. The increase in speeds these provide is the equivalent of going from walking pace to flying on a jumbo jet, says Wildgoose.

All this leads to something of a no-brainer for those choosing new satcomms. Both MailASail’s Wildgoose and James Phipps from Global Telesat Communications now strongly advocate the Certus Skylink 100 system in particular as a sort of MkII version of GO. At around twice the hardware cost of GO (£2,000), it offers a global internet hotspot, with 4G, firewall and router built in.

“GO has been the entry level device we’d recommend, as you can send and receive email and the odd GRIB file, but you can’t do Whatsapp,” Phipps explains. “However, I think the Certus Skylink 100 is the way to go and will be a really popular service and hardware to replace GO.”

They think it particularly suits the sailing market as it provides fast enough data speeds for email and chat apps. It’s also more portable than the 200, which is more of a permanent installation, yet half the price and with a fraction of the power consumption (3W versus 25W).

“Personally, if I was going to do the ARC this year, I’d get the Certus 100 terminal. It would do everything I need it to with email, Whatsapp, images at an economical running cost plan,” Phipps concludes.

When considering airtime, the Certus 200 has the same chipset unit as the larger and costlier 700, but the same airtime tariff as the 100. So unless you need the increased upload speeds of the 200, the 100 will have roughly the same download speed but at half the cost.

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On Tuesday 15 June 2021 our Swan 48 Isbjorn was positioned near 51° North, some 350 miles south-west of Fastnet Rock. She was in deep North Atlantic waters, charging north on the fringes of a strong depression in sustained gale force south-westerlies and heavy seas.

“Isbjorn is handling the conditions like a champion!” her skipper wrote to me from the sat comms. During the strongest conditions that the boat had ever experienced under the 59° North flag, I was ashore at my farmhouse in Sweden, nervously watching the progression of the GRIB forecasts overlaid on Isbjorn’s track.

”The seas are impressive and we are taking on some green water when the breaking crests catch up with us. Making great speed under triple-reefed mainsail and just a scrap of headsail.”

Isbjorn’s skipper, Norwegian August Sandberg – who is every bit the long-haired, bearded Viking – was in command, bound from Horta towards Oban, Scotland, and ultimately Bergen, Norway. “Winds are touching 45 knots true in the largest gusts, but we are under full control. Steering is going to be more scary and challenging for the watch at night, but we are up for it,” he added.

Relative experience

I knew the storm was coming. Sandberg and his five-person crew knew the storm was coming. Weather Routing Inc (WRI), the professional weather routing service we use, knew it was coming. “Routing is expected to be exceptionally difficult due to the active pattern in place with several fronts and gales,” WRI had briefed us. “There are several features we will have to monitor in the coming days to minimise lengthy periods of extreme weather.”

Isbjorn’s position relative to the approaching depression when skipper Sandberg began running off east-north-east

We knew all this while Isbjorn was still in Horta, yet Sandberg elected to head offshore on the 1,200-mile passage anyway. I agreed with his decision. As a team, 59° North had developed a solid heavy-weather strategy and with Sandberg’s crew, which included several repeat customers who’d sailed with us before and whom we trusted, he was confident they’d be able to implement a variety of tactics in order to make the experience not only manageable but a unique ‘teachable moment’ to see what heavy weather is really all about.

The passage to Oban was an outlier in that the weather got gnarlier than it usually does. Regardless, every trip we sail, whether we encounter heavy weather or not, shares two core fundamentals: a solid heavy-weather strategy to plan for the weather; and flexible, practised and reliable tactics to execute once it hits.

Storms are experienced differently by different skippers, crews, and boats. The storm August Sandberg encountered in the North Atlantic was a big one, but nothing he hadn’t seen before. Prior to joining 59° North, Sandberg had spent much of his career skippering expeditions in Arctic Norway and Svalbard, with multiple crossings of the Barents Sea, excursions to 80° North, and winter passages above the Arctic Circle in 24-hour darkness. During that June storm, he was in his element.

Conversely, a 25-knot beat into 6ft seas can be overwhelming for a first-time ocean skipper.

“I define heavy weather as when the normal running of the ship gets disrupted,” says my friend and Golden Globe skipper ,Susie Goodall, who is intimately familiar with the kind of heavy weather most of us pray we’ll never encounter.

Photo: 59 North Sailing

“The whole routine that you’ve got set up when you are offshore gets suspended. Heavy weather means that you are no longer operating under your normal day-to-day pattern offshore.”

Heavy weather strategies

While the terms are often used interchangeably, there is a clear distinction between strategy and tactics.

‘Strategy is the overarching plan or set of goals,’ writes Shane Parrish on the excellent blog Farnam Street (a must-read for anyone interested in leadership and decision-making), ‘Tactics are the specific actions or steps you undertake to accomplish your strategy.’

A heavy weather strategy is devised at the preparation stage of a voyage, and will be different depending on the type of boat, the size of the crew, experience of the crew, and other factors.

Sailplan

For our boats I have a very specific sail plan and equipment list that I like to carry for the range of expected weather conditions and the way we like to sail (specifically, fast offshore cruising).

We outsource the creation of a safety equipment strategy given that we are Cat 0 coded (and so should you — World Cruising Club’s safety equipment guidelines, derived from World Sailing’s Offshore Special Regulations, are ideal for recreational ocean cruising), so that part of the strategy is taken care of. Where we have some choice is in the sailplan, forecasting tools and heavy weather equipment.

well found boat and crew can cope with whatever the weather and sea conditions have to throw at them. Photo: Mike Delamore

I’ve optimised our sailplan for simplicity, robustness and redundancy. We opted to forego a trysail in favour of a deep-reefed mainsail simply because it’s far easier to set. I insist on a second stay for attaching the staysail and storm jib rather than the type that wrap around a furled headsail – far too much to go wrong there. An inner forestay (or Solent stay) adds another bit of support for the mast in really gnarly conditions.

Deck layout

The most important part of my heavy weather strategy is to avoid cascading problems resulting from too much complexity. A single green water, deck-sweeping wave can do a lot of damage if not planned for.

All three of our boats have nearly flush decks, allowing green water to harmlessly flow out the lee scuppers, and we deliberately don’t keep anything lashed to them at sea. No dinghy on the foredeck, no jerry cans of fuel on the side decks, no big davits aft. The less stuff you have on deck during the worst weather – including crew – the less stuff the ocean can grab and wash overboard.

As far as equipment goes, I’m a big fan of mounting liferafts on a stainless bracket on the pushpit and keeping the drogue, if carried, on top of the lazarette and ready to deploy.

Heavy weather equipment

We carry a Jordan Series Drogue on our smaller boat Isbjorn, an S&S Swan 48. Despite the failure of Susie’s drogue on DHL Starlight in the Golden Globe Race, to me the series drogue is still the only choice for serious heavy weather. While I’ve never had to deploy one in anger, there seems to be consensus among the folk I’ve talked to and the articles I’ve read that when it comes to survival conditions, the series drogue is the obvious choice.

However, on Icebear, a Swan 59 and soon Falken, our new-to-us Farr 65, we don’t carry any type of heavy weather drogue. It’s pretty well documented that big boats are exponentially at far less risk of capsize in serious heavy weather, so we’ve forgone a drag device.

Make sail changes early before heavy weather arrives to minimise time spent on deck. Photo: 59 North Sailing

Routines

Just as important is our watch schedule and daily routine. We keep a standard three-watch rotation of four hours on/eight hours off, with the skipper and mate floating. In heavy weather this changes to four on/four-off with skipper and mate included, so one of us is always on deck to manage the situation.

Then we have an emergency action plan to hand at all times should things get out of control. These routines are baked into our SOPs (standard operating procedures) and require no thinking in the moment to activate them.

Tactical choices

A heavy weather strategy is predetermined at the planning stage and difficult, if not impossible, to change once offshore (your strategy will have dictated what choices you made at the planning stage regarding boat type, sailplan, equipment list, etc). Tactics, however, are flexible and adaptable as the situation changes.

In that North Atlantic storm, August Sandberg was able to employ a rerouting tactic that allowed him to mitigate the worst of the weather. Isbjorn wasn’t fast enough to avoid the storm altogether, so he aimed to position her as far away from the worst of it as possible.

But to minimise the conditions, it meant running off at best speed to the east-north-east, towards Ireland as the storm centre was forecast to pass to the north and follow a similar track. The problem was that if the storm tracked just a bit south of its forecast, Isbjorn would wind up in the worst of it anyway, while also on a lee shore on Ireland’s formidable west coast.

Learn to read GRIBs and understand how to route away from the worst weather. Photo: 59 North Sailing

So he split the difference. Knowing they’d be sailing into stronger conditions they reefed down, changed up the watch schedule and sailed a course to keep the wind just aft of the beam, heading more north-north-east and parallel to Ireland’s west coast, thereby leaving them much more sea room should they ultimately need to run with the storm.

Anticipation

My first heavy weather tactic begins just before any given passage when we’re analysing the weather and looking for our departure window. At this point I’m looking for trends in the weather regarding wind strength and direction, with two goals in mind:

1. Can I find a window to depart either in a relative calm or at least off the wind?
2. What sailplan am I going to start the passage with?

If we’ve a high likelihood of heavy weather and/or a lot of beating in the forecast, I’ll opt to bend on the smaller genoa to the headstay furler, pre-rig the removable inner forestay and hank-on the staysail before we ever leave port.

I know that an initial beat will feel like heavy weather to a lot of the crew who sail with us, even in moderate conditions, and consequently will wear them down much more quickly in those first 48 hours. Conservatively anticipating the weather is a tactic that allows me to easily transition into heavy weather mode once offshore; it’s simply a matter of changing into the predetermined new watch rotation and hoisting the staysail.

Heading downwind while towing a drogue. Photo: Helen Nicholls

I’ll make this transition well in advance. On a recent November passage between Lanzarote and Horta on Icebear, we had a well-forecasted cold front set to overtake us as we approached the Azores. We’d have some heavy south-westerly conditions ahead of the front, and we wouldn’t make it to Horta before a north-westerly wind shift which would leave us beating the final 18 hours into port up the channel between Pico and São Miguel.

In bright afternoon sunshine the crew assembled on deck and, despite the moderate conditions at the time, bent on the smaller genoa and hoisted the staysail. Before nightfall we tucked two reefs into the mainsail. By midnight, winds were touching 30 knots and all that was left to do was partially furl the genoa. Icebear raced through the night with her small sails up and little drama.

At dawn the wind shifted and we switched into upwind mode, shaking the reefs in the main and re-setting the 105% genoa, making landfall in Horta a few hours later, a textbook application of anticipating the weather and executing good tactics to contend with it.

Active vs passive tactics

Active tactics apply to situations where you’ve had to change your daily routine, adjust your routing, or both, but continue actively sailing the boat, even if it’s an autopilot doing the actual steering. Active tactics require someone on deck, which requires energy, your most precious resource in heavy weather. Eventually, if the weather sustains for long enough, you will run out of this resource, especially with a short-handed crew, and you’ll need to change tactics.

Staying active on the helm in heavy weather can give a sense of purpose, easing stress. Photo: Paul Wyeth

Passive tactics are when we’re no longer in control of sailing the boat, but rather its tending to itself. Passive tactics are about holding position to let the weather pass and re-energising the crew. The most important part of any good active tactic is knowing when to give it up and switch to a passive tactic before you’re exhausted.

Eventually, if the weather gets gnarly enough, some boats require active tactics to remain seaworthy – ie deep fin-keeled monohulls that are reluctant to heave-to may require fore-reaching, while most multihulls will need to run-off sooner than a displacement hull to avoid capsize risk – and this is where that crew energy is crucial.

Fifty years ago Don Street observed in The Ocean Sailing Yacht, that: ‘It must be remembered that on long offshore passages a well-built and well-equipped boat will stand up to much more rough weather than will the crew.’ The same holds true today.

Adapt your approach

Good execution of heavy weather tactics during a sustained storm means staying flexible. Your tactics will change as the storm evolves:

• Anticipate: Understand the forecast and set the boat up for the expected conditions long before they deteriorate
• Active: continue sailing and progressively reefing deeper and deeper, aiming to route as far away from the worst of the storm as possible in the time before it hits
• Passive: heave-to before it gets truly gnarly to give the crew needed rest
• Active: fore-reach (easier to helm, but wetter) or run-off (more dangerous, harder to control) once the sea-state gets too large to safely heave-to
• Passive: douse all sails, secure the companionway and set a Jordan Series Drogue to ride out the worst of the storm with all crew below decks. Lying ahull is no longer considered a safe option unless it’s a very short-lived storm that doesn’t build up a significant sea state
• Active: as the weather eases, transition back into actively sailing the boat. Eventually, once everyone is rested, you’ll be able to revert back to your normal at-sea routines and continue towards your destination

Assume you will need to hand-steer, and make sure at a minimum one other crew is capable of hand-steering in all weather on all points. Again, autopilot reliance is a great tactic, poor strategy. Photo: 59 North Sailing

You won’t always progress through that entire sequence. In fact, in the nearly 100,000 miles I’ve sailed offshore, I’ve yet to do so myself. But I sleep easier knowing all the tactics I have available to me when the weather gets really bad.

Every time we hold a crew debrief after we’ve seen some heavy weather, people always talk about how surprised they were at the long build-up to the actual weather event. Sandberg’s crew from June 2021 were no exception: “They’d imagined that heavy weather just hits you quickly and randomly, and that coping with it is like putting out a fire. They had not imagined that it was something you’d plan for, discuss and prepare for, often days in advance.”

If there’s one takeaway that’s most important here it’s the concept of anticipation. With anticipation at the root of all heavy weather tactics, you’ll never get caught out without a plan.
Thanks to a well found boat, her well found skipper and a sound heavy-weather strategy that was executed well, Isbjorn made it through that North Atlantic storm drama free and not only unscathed, but with an exhilarated crew who learned a bit of good seamanship.

Coping strategies

Heaving-to

Don’t believe the myth – all boats will heave-to, even modern flat-bottomed, fin-keeled performance boats. Some just require more patience and practice.

Heaving-to is the art of stalling a boat at about 60º off the wind by backing the headsail, sheeting the main in tight and locking the helm ‘down.’ Just like balancing a boat under sail, heaving-to, especially on more modern hull shapes, requires a careful balance of headsail size, mainsail trim and rudder trim. Once dialled in, the boat takes care of herself, allowing the crew time to recharge. It’s a useful tactic on any long passage, even in nice weather; stop for a swim, wait for a favourable wind shift, ride out a dark night before entering a new port.

In real heavy weather, there’ll be more setup. Blocks must be rigged such that jib or staysail sheets have a fair lead aft when the sail is backed. When practicing the tactic this is often overlooked, but at sea in a blow, chafe sets in and must be avoided.

When properly hove-to, your world changes: the boat locks in at a steady angle of heel and bobs on the seas while the crew gets needed rest. We find we use this tactic more than any other. It’s easy and effective. But at some point it can become dangerous…

Switch to alternate heavy weather watch rotations early to keep the crew fresh and a leader (skipper or mate) on deck at all times. Photo: 59 North Sailing

Fore-reaching

If the seas are breaking, heaving-to can become dangerous. And despite what I wrote above about all boats being able to heave-to, some are indeed difficult. In either case, consider fore-reaching.

Fore-reaching is basically sailing very slowly to windward. It’s an ‘active’ tactic and will require someone on the helm, or at least monitoring the autopilot, but often staying active in heavy weather can give you a sense of purpose and can ease the mental stress of intense conditions.

All boats can fore-reach. Set your small sails and basically pinch your way to weather. Fore-reaching is quite similar to the ‘feathering’ tactic we often employ during quick squalls when the wind is forward of the beam. Instead of reefing and unreeling for each squall, simply feather-up on the helm to de-power the sails and ride it out. Fore-reaching is similar, but over a longer duration and with smaller sails.

Series drogue

When conditions get too heavy to do anything but hide down below, the series drogue is the go-to tactic. It’s also the only tactic that requires truly modifying your boat before departure – you’ll need stout chainplates on the transom to take the loads from the bridle, a protected companionway that can survive a heavy breaking wave from astern, and a way to stow and deploy the drogue efficiently offshore.

Practicing deployment and retrieval is essential to avoid snags in the 300ft-long line. Modern series drogues are made with Dyneema, making them far easier to carry and stow, but more difficult to retrieve thanks to the slippery line. Randall Reeves used his often when solo sailing around the Americas and Antarctica: his blog has useful observations on how to retrieve a Dyneema drogue when short-handed.

Bluewater Sailing Techniques Part 3: Coping with squalls

Discover the best way to cope with squalls and weather them safely in the latest instalment of our Bluewater Sailing…

Bluewater Sailing Techniques Part 4: sailing downwind with a poled out headsail

Discover how to sail with a poled out headsail in our latest Bluewater Sailing Techniques video

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While going on a bluewater adventure with your family is a popular dream, the advantages of having a child that can understand instructions, occupy themselves with a book, and have mastered at least the basics of swimming, keep many families ashore until school age. But cruising, and even liveaboard bluewater sailing with young children can be done.

Four families cruising and sailing with young children share their tips on how to manage – and enjoy – sailing with very small crew.

Never too young to learn; going cruising before the school years can offer real freedom. Photos: chasingmoonrivernz.com

Setting sail with preschoolers

There are many reasons for setting off with under-fives. For some families it is simply a case of not waiting – especially where older siblings want to rejoin formal education before their senior school years. Casting off sooner may enable you to sail for longer, even if taking it easy for the early stages. Going when children are younger may also negate the need to move up a size of yacht to increase the number of cabins.

For many families the ability to go sailing without having to factor in ‘boat school’ is a huge draw. “I found home schooling for pre-school and early primary school aged children was very easy and stress-free,” recalls Carolyn Simpson, mother of four boys aged four to nine.

Gaining an early understanding of charts. Photo: @resolutely_sailing

She and her husband have lived aboard their 47ft Herreshoff ketch Moon River since their youngest son was born, cruising the Pacific when he was two and his brothers four, six and seven years old.

“We really just wanted to ensure that the boys weren’t behind in reading and letter formation. Basic maths, alphabet etc can be learned as games and during day-to-day activities, and the lifestyle itself is an education.”

Friendships are less critical at the preschool stage, which takes the pressure off finding other ‘kid boats’ – though maintaining relationships with wider family members, such as grandparents and cousins, can be harder with small children if relying on video calls or similar.

The slow, simple life on board can suit a very young family, as Carolyn recalls: “For us all to be together as a family 24/7 for extended periods of cruising, it [was] lovely having a newborn and not having a schedule. My memories of breastfeeding on board, relaxing on beaches, playing in the shallows, and sleeping in hammocks under trees are dreamy.”

A trolley can make a good buggy substitute. Photo: @resolutely_sailing

But there are obvious hurdles to overcome. Sleep deprivation is a huge factor during the early parenting years. Add in night watches, anchor monitoring, the challenges of getting proper rest while under way, of trying to sleep undisturbed in a small space – and a tropical climate – and it’s easy to see why many sailing parents baulk at the idea of sailing with young children.

Factor in essential boat maintenance, the domestic workload, and possibly income generating work, and creating enough time for sleep can be challenging. For many families this means taking things very slowly. For others it means bringing in additional hands – extended family, an au pair, or deck crew.

The health and safety concerns can seem daunting. All the usual hazards – falls, choking, burns – become amplified on board. With very young children who simply can’t be relied on to follow key instructions, ‘man-marking’ becomes a full-time job. If one parent is looking after the boat, the other will need to be looking after the child(ren). Preventing man overboards, falls off jetties and pontoons, and safely transferring to and from a dinghy etc requires careful planning and constant vigilance.

There is also the question of how sailing with young children will alter the experience of cruising itself. While diving coral reefs, or immersing oneself in different cultural experiences, are likely to be high on adult cruisers’ wish lists, for young children the best moments involve the simple things. Finding a shallow sandy beach may become your anchorage goal.

Playing on board. Photo: finedayforsailing.com

“There are elements of liveaboard life that toddlers can’t appreciate the same way an older child could,” points out Emily Lane, who is cruising with her husband, four-year-old son and two-year-old daughter on their Norseman 447 Resolute. “I think we had grand visions of spotting dolphins together and teaching our kids the names of fish and seabirds… but to be honest, they’re so young that nothing gets them excited like a good old fashioned playground. Our route along the Intracoastal Waterway was basically dictated by proximity to playgrounds.”

Preparing to be tested

The first thing any parents planning to cruise with young children should do is accept that plans may change. Heather Richard initially set off cruising with her ex-husband and three children, including a preschooler. She then continued sailing with her young children as a solo parent, bringing on additional crew when needed and using her experience as a sailing instructor to teach them additional skills.

“I have some very unique experience as a single parent taking my three kids cruising solo. But it was quite easy to find young, capable, strong and willing crew who fit in easily with my family and added a lot to my kids education – and also gave them good role models. Their energy and positive attitude was fantastic for both me and the kids.”

Carolyn Simpson also discovered how sailing with young children can challenge a relationship. “One of the biggest challenges early on was how tired we’d get on passage, or even around the coast in stormy weather. It’s very hard to keep an even keel with each other when we are both sleep deprived, but nothing a day on the beach resting while the boys run around doesn’t fix! It helps that [husband] Richie is a very patient captain.”

The couple planned assiduously. “We both undertook offshore medical courses, sea survival courses, and Richie crewed on a passage to New Caledonia to gain experience. One of the most valuable things we did together was cast off the lines and live at anchor for three months while coastal sailing around New Zealand.

However, she admits: “No matter how well prepared we were, I was (and still am) quite worried about one of the boys getting injured or sick while we are on passage or somewhere remote. On top of that my self-doubt was a difficult hurdle to overcome.

Safe spaces for kids on the move. Photo: svkaiquest.com

“We have an amazing support network who were behind what we were doing, we got no negative comments or criticism for our lifestyle choice, but I couldn’t shake a level of self-doubt!

“There is an element of risk to this lifestyle that is different from living ashore, so I think that weighs on my mind. But once we get underway a lot of that slips away and we find the lifestyle really relaxing, comfortable and exciting.”

Keeping kids safe aboard

A lot of sailing with young children can be made easier by having the right kit on board, and thinking through systems and routines. Sarah and Will Curry know this more than most. The couple divide the year 50:50 cruising aboard their Jeanneau SO 43 Kaiquest and living ashore in Canada, while also running their company Hydrovane, makers of self-steering systems. They live aboard Kaiquest with their two-year-old twins, and have done so since the boys were babies. It was a daunting proposition.

The Curry family aboard their Jeanneau SO 43 Kaiquest. Photo: svkaiquest.com

“We were travelling with 16 bottles (eight feeds a day times two!), a mammoth supply of formula, two car seats, a double stroller, and a high energy miniature poodle – running high on the adrenaline of love of being new parents!” Sarah recalls. “We were tied to the dock (and laundry machine) for those first few months.”

Sarah and Will adapted different ‘safe zones’ in their boat as the boys grew. “‘The Pit’ was a custom lee cloth across our main saloon dropped-down table to create a baby rumble room,” she explains.

“‘The Cage’ is our full cockpit enclosure. This was imperative for the toddler phase and made the cockpit 100% secure. We used Phifertex material, which is ideal for the tropics in that it provides sun protection, but you can see through it. It’s also durable enough to contain two toddlers throwing their bodies against it.

Securable seats are invaluable. Photo: svkaiquest.com

“One of my most useful purchases was two portable pop‘n’sit chairs. We secure them in the cockpit so the twins can be strapped in safely when needed. They have eaten many meals in these chairs on board and out at restaurants.”

Having dedicated places for children to go during mooring or a manoeuvre is a strategy many parents recommend. Carolyn Simpson adds: “Introducing ‘safety seats’ was one of our most important safety tactics. If Richie or I said ‘safety seats’ all four boys would go to (or be put into) dedicated berths/carseats/seats which separated them and kept them safe while we dealt with anything thrown at us. We prepared snack bags for during busy times like anchoring and docking to keep all four quiet.

Inspiring the next generation! Photo: svkaiquest.com

“We still use the same code-word today, but things have changed as the boys have gotten older. Jackson and Tasman might be asked to come up and help with things like docking, but otherwise they all remain in their seats until told it is safe to leave.”

Having strict rules that are stuck to consistently is key. “The boys all wear lifejackets and are tethered at all times when on-deck under way, these were the rules from day one and in all conditions so everyone knew the drill when we headed offshore,” recalls Carolyn.

“When we are on passage the boys don’t leave the cockpit; this rule also applies to adult crew as much as possible! At anchor/marina the boys weren’t allowed to wander around the topsides without a lifejacket until they could confidently swim four laps of Moon River.”

“Nobody is allowed in the cockpit without a lifejacket and an adult. Period,” adds Lane.

Simplifying systems and sail handling so one adult can manage the boat is vital when sailing with young children. “Everything is rigged on Kaiquest so she can be sailed solo. One of us tends to the twins, the other sails the boat. Sailing is the easy job,” says Susan Curry. “The Hydrovane rudder takes over steering, which means Kaiquest’s main rudder and two wheels are locked off. I now fully appreciate this safety feature for sailing with kids: there is no erratic movement of the wheels, and no chance of fingers or arms getting caught.”

The reality

“I wish we’d known that, when you live aboard a sailboat with kids, only about 5% of your time is spent actually sailing,” recalls Emily Lane.

“The other 95% is spent in the day-to-day mundane details of living: feeding the kids, getting them to pick up their toys, making sure they’re going down for nap, getting them on and off the dock safely, arranging for grocery deliveries, tracking down playgrounds and laundromats… the list goes on.

“But we’re all doing it together in a (relatively) tiny little boat, all within a few feet of each other. The kids love being close to us, and we love being close to them. And in the end, that’s really what makes living aboard worth it.”

Best toys for children on yachts

With limited stowage onboard, large plastic toy sets won’t be an option. Popular recommendations for sailing with young children include:

· Lego/Duplo. Giant drawstring play mat/storage bags keep the pieces contained and out of the bilges.

· Tool kits. Child-appropriate versions of a ‘real’ toolbox are universally popular with liveaboard kids. “We take these ashore and can sit back and relax while they create,” says Simpson.

· A ‘survival kit’ has similar appeal: add a flint and steel, whittling knife, whistle, walkie-talkies and a hammock/den kit.

· Magnatiles for mess-free creativity (just be careful where you store them on board as they are magnetic)

· Journals. Even during ‘no-school’ days on passage many parents get kids to draw or write a few words each day.

· Stationary rolls/craft boxes. Glue guns, lollipops and pipe cleaners, paint, paper, and modelling clay – although these often only come out at anchor.

· Fancy dress. Popular with little ones and easy to store. Also makes it easier to keep an eye on your child ashore if they’re dressed as a cartoon character!

· Water toys. SUPs, kayaks, water pistols. Don’t forget swim goggles.

· Tablets. Particularly invaluable on long passages, explains Emily Lane. “We treat it the same way you’d treat a long-haul flight with toddlers. Routine goes out the window, there are lots of snacks involved, lots of time on the iPad.” Kindle Kids tablets have a no-quibble replacement policy for devices that may take some knocks and spills
on board.

Follow the families on Instagram @hydrovane, @chasingmoonriver, @resolutely_sailing
@finedayforsailing and on their blogs at svkaiquest.com, chasingmoonrivernz.com, finedayforsailing.com

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Yachting World is the world’s leading magazine for bluewater cruisers and offshore sailors. Every month we have inspirational adventures and practical features to help you realise your sailing dreams.

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Don’t miss the final Bluewater Sailing Webinar series by Grand Large Yachting, in association with Yachting World. In this latest episode, former Norwegian Olympic sailor and legendary offshore circumnavigator, Knut Frostad talks digital sailing: A freedom factor on board.

Knut spent many years as a professional sailor, racing in the Olympics and later four times around the world in the Whitbread and Volvo Ocean Race, twice as skipper. More recently he spent 18 months cruising with his family on an Outremer 5X. Knut’s normal day-to-day job is as the President & CEO of Navico, a world leading provider of marine electronics including B&G for sailing and C-Map cartography.

Don’t miss this opportunity to navigate technical waters with Knut Frostad, who you can watch live at 12pm (GMT) today here. Sign up to this link to also receive the replay video, which you can watch at any time.

Bluewater Sailing Webinars

Following two successful seasons, the Grand Large Yachting group (parent company of Outremer) is running a 2021 edition of its popular Bluewater Sailing Webinar series,, in association with Yachting World.

The programme includes six free sessions (all conducted in English), from September 23 to December 2.

The webinars will be live-streamed every fortnight on Thursdays at 1300 (CEST).

To watch and participate in the live Q&A session, register at: https://event.webinarjam.com/register/67/38lvghn0

Alternatively, you can catch up on past webinars by on Yachting World’s YouTube channel.

Upcoming webinars in the series are:

• December 2: Digital sailing – the freedom factor, with Knut Frostad

https://event.webinarjam.com/register/72/q7vywf85

If you enjoyed this….

Yachting World is the world’s leading magazine for bluewater cruisers and offshore sailors. Every month we have inspirational adventures and practical features to help you realise your sailing dreams.

Build your knowledge with a subscription delivered to your door. See our latest offers and save at least 30% off the cover price.

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Don’t miss the fourth in the Bluewater Sailing Webinar series by Grand Large Yachting, in association with Yachting World. In today’s webinar Nikki Henderson, British yachtswoman and Yachting World contributor, looks a how to co-skipper at sea.

Nikki is well placed to answer this question. As the youngest ever Clipper Round the World Race skipper, she brought together a diverse crew to complete a hugely successful circumnavigation, finishing 2nd on Visit Seattle in the 2017/18 race.

In a real-life example of co-skippering in challenging circumstances, she also joined YouTubers La Vagabonde to sail Greta Thunberg across the Atlantic, working with Riley Whitelum to safely deliver Greta, her father, and Riley’s baby son Lenny on an eastbound Atlantic crossing about their Outremer.

From left: Greta, Lenny, Nikki, Svante, Elayna and Riley.Nikki has also raced the RORC Caribbean 600, Rolex Fastnet Race, Race to Alaska, Rolex Middle Sea Race, sailed with 59 North’s Andy Schell in the Gotland Runt, and was a guest skipper on Tracy Edwards’ refitted Whitbread yacht Maiden.

Nikki combines sailing with her other passion: storytelling – as an author, and as a motivational speaker.

Profoundly affected by the lessons she has learnt at sea, she enjoys sharing her refreshingly honest and unique insights into the human side of this extreme sport, making today’s webinar one not to miss.

Register at https://event.webinarjam.com/register/70/ox2y1amz

Bluewater Sailing Webinars

Following two successful seasons, the Grand Large Yachting group (parent company of Outremer) is running a 2021 edition of its popular Bluewater Sailing Webinar series,, in association with Yachting World.

The programme includes six free sessions (all conducted in English), from September 23 to December 2.

The webinars will be live-streamed every fortnight on Thursdays at 1300 (CEST).

To watch and participate in the live Q&A session, register at: https://event.webinarjam.com/register/67/38lvghn0

Alternatively, you can catch up on past webinars by on Yachting World’s YouTube channel.

Upcoming webinars in the series are:

• November 4: Clipper skipper Nikki Henderson asks: Can there ever be more than one skipper on board ?

Register at https://event.webinarjam.com/register/70/ox2y1amz

• November 18: Medicine at sea: key skills to have on board with Martin Oudet

https://event.webinarjam.com/register/71/8rlvwtyo

• December 2: Digital sailing – the freedom factor, with Knut Frostad

https://event.webinarjam.com/register/72/q7vywf85

If you enjoyed this….

Yachting World is the world’s leading magazine for bluewater cruisers and offshore sailors. Every month we have inspirational adventures and practical features to help you realise your sailing dreams.

Build your knowledge with a subscription delivered to your door. See our latest offers and save at least 30% off the cover price.

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Don’t miss the third in the Bluewater Sailing Webinar series by Grand Large Yachting, in association with Yachting World. This Thursday’s webinar covers the key topic of technical boat management, led by Loïc Helies.

Helies is well known to Outremer catamaran owners as he has shared his extensive experience during regular training sessions for sailors planning to bluewater cruise their Outremer.

Helies, his wife and three children have already completed an around the world cruise aboard their Outremer. They are currently setting off on a new adventure by participating in the Grand Large Yachting World Odyssey – a three-year rally around the world leaving later this October.

When not sailing, Helies is an airline pilot. In the webinar he will explain how the methodology and processes he uses as an airline pilot – where absolute reliability is key – can be used in the context of bluewater sailing when it comes to technical boat management.

Don’t miss this highly useful webinar, live from Saga, his new Outremer 55.

To register visit https://event.webinarjam.com/register/67/38lvghn0

Outremer owner and trainer Loïc Helies will share key advice on technical boat management

Bluewater Sailing Webinars

Following two successful seasons, the Grand Large Yachting group (parent company of Outremer) is running a 2021 edition of its popular Bluewater Sailing Webinar series,, in association with Yachting World.

The programme includes six free sessions (all conducted in English), from September 23 to December 2.

The webinars will be live-streamed every fortnight on Thursdays at 1300 (CEST).

To watch and participate in the live Q&A session, register at https://event.webinarjam.com/register/67/38lvghn0

Alternatively, you can catch up on past webinars by on Yachting World’s YouTube channel.

Other upcoming sessions in the series are:

• November 4

Clipper skipper Nikki Henderson asks: Can there ever be more than one skipper on board ?

Register at https://event.webinarjam.com/register/70/ox2y1amz

• November 18
Medicine at sea: key skills to have on board with Martin Oudet

https://event.webinarjam.com/register/71/8rlvwtyo

• December 2 Sailing digital

Digital sailing – the freedom factor, with Knut Frostad

https://event.webinarjam.com/register/72/q7vywf85

If you enjoyed this….

Yachting World is the world’s leading magazine for bluewater cruisers and offshore sailors. Every month we have inspirational adventures and practical features to help you realise your sailing dreams.

Build your knowledge with a subscription delivered to your door. See our latest offers and save at least 30% off the cover price.

The post Webinar: how to manage your boat on a circumnavigation appeared first on Yachting World.

When my toes get cold, I know the wind has piped up. The dorade over the foot of our bed only seems to move air when it’s blowing over 20 knots, and that night it was working overtime. As the wind howled through our rigging, I pulled the blanket back over my feet and struggled to fall back asleep as Agàpe was battered by high winds and driving rain.

The next morning, after three days confined to the boat with 35+ knot winds, I finally decided I’d had enough. I would escape for a swim under the pretence of checking our anchor, but as I swam forward, my anxiety for the safety of our boat grew. I could see that even though we had a scope of 7:1 out, all of our 10mm chain was suspended in the water column.

I’d always believed that the weight of our chain was instrumental in our anchor’s holding power, but now, watching as the wind gusted into the high 30s, the boat pulled the chain taut, and any assistance of a catenary effect added by the chain’s weight was lost.

But still, the anchor did not move. Even when the full length of chain was lifted off the seafloor, the anchor would not budge. As I watched for several minutes, I quickly realised that it was not the weight of our chain, or any catenary effect that it might provide, which was responsible for holding our boat, it was almost entirely the angle at which the anchor was being pulled.

To find out how much wind force is applied to a yacht under bare poles, multiply the width of the beam by the height of the bow, then multiply the sum by 1.67 to account for a bimini, mast, and rigging

Sailors tend to love formulas, and certainty. A quick glance at a Nigel Calder, John Vigor, or Danial Spurr book will reveal calculations to find the correct anchor size, scope, catenary angle, and so on. What we often fail to take into consideration though, is how much force the wind puts on our boats, and that our chains’ perceived weight is less when submerged.

A 42ft cruiser like Agàpe presents a little over 115ft2 of surface area to the wind, but since boats typically sail around at anchor, we double this to account for the larger surface area of our beam, the bimini, mast, and rigging. The wind force is roughly 3lb/ft2 at 30 knots, and grows exponentially, meaning the same square foot will have 13lb of pressure at 60 knots.

Article continues below…

Bluewater Sailing Techniques Part 6: anchoring in coral

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VIDEO: Yachting World shows you how to anchor safely in coral waters

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In 30 knots, Agàpe can pull on her anchor with almost 700lb of force, not including waves or current. It’s no wonder then that the 200ft of chain that we had out for the blow was pulled tight.

All 200ft of our 10mm chain weighed in around 320lb, less than half of the force applied to the boat. In lighter winds, having an all-chain rode – or at least some chain – does help greatly, as the weight of the chain will be more than the force of the wind and will therefore reduce the angle of pull on the anchor. This is when the catenary effect comes into play!

Floating your anchor chain can help in bays dotted with rocks

We have safely ridden out more than 50 knots, where the force on the chain was enough to distort the grab hook on our snubber. I could have played our anchor chain like a guitar string, it was pulled so tight, and we had almost no chain on the bottom. The majority was attached to floats, keeping it suspended in the water column, safely away from the corals that threatened to entangle it.

It’s because of all these forces at play, that over the last eight years we found it is less about the added weight of chain that keeps us sleeping soundly, but more the correct angle of pull, or scope that is important – particularly when the wind picks up. This is especially true when the substrate we are anchoring in is less than ideal.

Environmental impact

Losing a yacht because of dragging is not only devastating to the owner, but also the beach, reef, or coastline that it comes to rest on. As our ocean conservation awareness increases, so too does our realisation of the environmental effects of cruising.

Seagrass beds can be devastated by swinging anchor chains; anchor further out in deeper water to avoid. Photo: WaterFrasme/Alamy

Whether we’re aware of it or not, every time we anchor the boat we affect fragile marine ecosystems. In some regions, like the South Pacific and Caribbean, this has led to heated debates on how local governments should handle the increasing number of yachts.

As cruisers, we love the element on which we live and the creatures that call it home, and we should strive to have as little negative impact as possible.

Over the years of cruising, we have visited increasingly remote areas where perfect sand bottoms are few and far between. On Agàpe, we have had to learn how to set the hook in boulder-strewn bottoms, around thick kelp beds, avoiding coral bommies, and in fields of slippery eelgrass.

Our first priority is to make sure our boat – our home – is safe. But, we also want to have the slightest impact on the marine environment we travelled so far to enjoy.

Everywhere on the seafloor, life flourishes, from the gobies and garden eels of the sand bar to the sea stars and urchins of the kelp forests. There is life even in the benthic substrate of the mucky, muddy river bottoms.

Even seemingly clear sandy bottoms are teeming with marine life so reduce the impact of your chain where possible

Each time we set our anchor deep into the bottom, we are disturbing some little creature struggling to make a life for itself, and over the years we have become increasingly picky about where we drop our 25kg Rocna wrecking ball.

So, how can we anchor more responsibly, in a way that does minimal harm to the environment and also ensures our yacht’s safety?

Talking about anchoring techniques is often like talking about politics, religion, or money: people tend to hold strong opinions and debate can be heated. It’s not my intention here to convince anyone of how to do anything. Instead, I’m going to outline three techniques that we have successfully used on Agàpe.

Three point plan

First and foremost, we take our time. Sometimes it can feel like a competition, or a boost to our cruiser’s pride when we can sail into an anchorage, come to an open spot, stop, drop and call it good. But I challenge myself to take an extra minute or two to look over the side and see what is below.

Perhaps take a lap around the anchorage to find a place that is already scarred from previous anchors. Back down a little slower to help give our anchors a chance to dig in, instead of ploughing a trench in the bottom for a boat length or more. Backing down slowly is also a great technique for anchoring in silty, mud bottoms, or eelgrass.

It helps when possible to know what the bottom is comprised of ahead of time. If you know you are going to a bay with abundant seagrass, think about dropping a little deeper, in around 30ft; much less seagrass grows at these depths so you’ll greatly reduce your chance of damaging it.

Second, we set with adequate scope, not an exorbitant amount. Yes, more scope will lead to better holding, but more is not always better when taking into account life on the sea bottom, or when it’s a crowded anchorage.

Agàpe almost always rides on 5:1, so if it is 15ft deep, we have 75ft out. If the bottom is foul or in rocks, we might put out a little more with the addition of a float or two. By not putting out 7, 8, or even 10:1, unless it is needed for really high winds, we keep the excess chain off the bottom and away from the fragile ecosystems living there.

Just as important – if not more so – is backing down to ensure the anchor is well set. We can have 10:1 out but if the anchor is fouled and cannot properly set it’s of no use.

Third, and our favourite technique, is floating our chain in order to protect it and the bottom. To do this properly can take some time and practice but, once you get the hang of it, the technique can ensure the beautiful corals are there for others to enjoy long after you have come and gone.

This practice works because as the wind picks up, the force applied to the chain will pull the floats down, giving you the same angle of pull as if the chain would have been on the bottom to start.

When floating our chain, we leave some on the bottom, preferably equal to the depth of the water, then we begin to add our floats, roughly 30ft apart. I try to stagger the floats, leaving less and less chain between them, so they float at different levels in the water column. This helps to ensure that when the wind is light the floats and chain do not become tangled. Floats need to be robust enough that they won’t compress at depth – there are usually lots of discarded fishing floats lying around the shoreline which do the job.

Floating anchor chain is a popular technique in the coral atolls of the South Pacific, but it can be used anywhere your chain might become entangled or there’s a sensitive environment that you want to protect.

As an anchored boat swings the chain drags across the bottom, potentially destroying whatever lies in its path. In seagrass beds, this devastated area is called a halo, for when viewed from above the chain has made a circle of damaged vegetation.

If you must anchor in seagrass, floating the chain will greatly reduce the size of your halo. The Department of Natural Resources in Washington State has made floating mooring chains mandatory in an effort to reduce the impact on their fragile seagrass environments. Florida has banned anchoring altogether in areas deemed threatened by too much yacht traffic and anchoring.

This technique also helps protect your bow rollers, chain, and anything else that may be damaged by large shock loads when anchoring in rocky bottoms. Much like coral, rock and boulder bottoms tend to ensnare anchors and rode.

As the boat moves and dances around with wind changes and gusts on the surface, so too does the chain on the bottom. The longer your anchor rests on the bottom, the more likely it will become entangled. If it is left for too long, the risk is that all the rode becomes trapped, leaving nothing to buffer the shock loads of the bow pitching in wind chop or swell.

We have witnessed rollers bend, windlasses ripped out of decks, and even brand new 12mm chain snap because of these loads. By adding a few floats to the chain to keep it off the bottom, you can help ensure an easier retrieval and keep the shock-absorbing property of scope.

If you enjoyed this….

Yachting World is the world’s leading magazine for bluewater cruisers and offshore sailors. Every month we have inspirational adventures and practical features to help you realise your sailing dreams.

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The post Eco-friendly anchoring: how to preserve the seabed appeared first on Yachting World.

Some of the damage we saw at the Vendée Globe finish was simply staggering, yet this edition was also remarkable for its small number of retirements. Many boats suffered major issues, yet kept racing until the very end thanks to mid-ocean repairs undertaken by many skippers.

The first boat home, Charlie Dalin’s Apivia, gave a foretaste. We knew he’d damaged the port foil system south of Australia, but few were prepared for the sight of his boat when he approached the finish, showing the foil supported by improvised stays Dalin had needed to repeatedly adjust and maintain for 13,000 miles and 44 days.

As Dalin crossed the line, 90 miles to the west Boris Herrmann was dealing with a broken shroud after the bottom splice tore open in his collision with a trawler.

Dalin’s improvised porthand foil stays. Photo: Olivier Blanchet/Alea

Next home after Dalin was Louis Burton, who told us the hardest thing for him had been the mid-ocean repairs and “constant DIY on the boat.” Burton was dogged by pilot and electronic problems, rigging and halyard issues, loss of the watermaker, and even damage caused by a fire.

These three boats were not particularly unlucky – almost every boat that reached the finish had to overcome major technical problems at some point. But what’s remarkable about many of the repairs is they were not short-term get-you-home lash-ups – they allowed the boat to be pushed in full race mode for tens of thousands of miles. We spoke to the skippers to find out what ocean cruising sailors could learn from the race.

Solve problems before you go

The Vendée skippers’ extraordinary ability to solve technical problems and complete mid-ocean repairs is the outcome of a process that starts early in each campaign. Everyone I spoke to highlighted the extent to which preparation has improved across the fleet over the past few editions, including among the low-budget teams. At the top level, teams are also continuously finding better ways to approach tasks.

Sam Davies has sailed IMOCAs for a decade and a half and seen these changes first-hand. Her team now uses thermal imaging to help identify delamination in structures. This recently available technique creates a complete picture of the structure and therefore may identify problems missed by ultrasound, which can only test at discrete points.

Merron used fresh water to rinse salt off deck gear, including halyard locks and the runner blocks. Photo: Rupert Holmes

Every new piece of equipment bought for Initiatives Coeur gets a full NDT (non-destructive testing) analysis before being fitted. This establishes a baseline against which any subsequent changes can be measured.

For instance, the boat had a new rig before the Vendée Globe, but even the very best mouldings have some flaws. This is not an issue providing they are within the limits set by structural engineers, but the initial NDT testing means that, when the spars are checked at the end of the race, it’s possible to differentiate between those initial flaws and any new damage.

Despite this level of prep it’s easy for small, but important, items to slip though the net. Davies broke a forestay pin due to fatigue failure. “I can’t believe we didn’t pick up on that,” she told me. “That pin is part of a furler which goes back to the manufacturer to be serviced. It’s a piece that’s holding up the rig, but we’re not X-raying it ourselves.”

One example of preparation that’s standard practice in long-distance racing, but often omitted by cruising yachts preparing for lengthy voyages, is to add Dyneema chafe jackets to halyards to protect against damage at sheaves.

The difference this makes is immense, thanks to the slippery nature of Dyneema, and I’ve personally finished transatlantic races with spinnaker halyards that look almost new after adding them.

Mid-race checks

Knowing your boat really, really well is key to both reducing the risk of damage and identifying the best repair solutions. Once at sea, checks and inspections are the most vital element in avoiding breakages and equipment failure.

Rigging issues are commonplace on ocean crossings: here the crew of X-562 Teamgeist fit a new mainsheet connection to the boom after the original broke mid-Atlantic. Photo: Victor Taburiaux

A minimum is a daily check around the boat, inside and out, including examining the rig with binoculars. Any item that’s a cause for concern gets more constant monitoring.

Creative thinking can help in this context. After an exploding running backstay block nearly put an end to her race, Alexia Barrier hoisted a GoPro camera up her mast to check for damage, avoiding the need to climb a potentially compromised rig herself.

Article continues below…

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Sail repairs on the fly – how to make essential fixes while at sea

During last year’s ARC I was to be found at one point on the pulpit restitching the foot tape of…

Miranda Merron is an ardent fan of maintaining a scrupulously clean boat, with dry bilges and machinery spaces. To make it easier to check for damage to the carbon structure she painted key areas white, so cracks can be seen easily at an early stage.

She also recommends a stripe of white paint across nuts, washers and a reference mark on the boat. That way you can see at a glance whether or not the nut has moved. But even then she was caught out by the fastenings for the main pilot ram loosening. Fortunately she spotted the issue before it became a serious problem, but subsequently took an Allen key on daily checks to physically confirm the tightness of bolts holding mission critical equipment.

“You need to know your boat inside out,” Merron told me. “Check for new leaks around deck fittings, sponge all the water out every day and investigate suspect noises.”

Many boats sustained damage to lifelines and guardrails, including Maitre Coq IV, which lost its pulpit. Photo: Rupert Holmes

Post-race, many of the boats move ashore and are extensively dismantled for inspection. Yannick Bestaven’s shore crew estimate that the inspection of the winning Maître CoQ IV will last two and a half months. Few long-distance cruisers adopt such an all-round approach, and it’s all too easy to prioritise enjoying the delights of a new destination above properly checking over the boat after a long passage.

On deck damage

This edition of the race demonstrated how vulnerable pulpits and guardrails are to damage from waves, code sails or asymmetrics, or simply from repeated stresses.

Very heavy seas at Cape Horn, for instance, resulted in Maître CoQ IV losing her entire pulpit – at the finish the lifelines were simply tensioned to padeyes near the forestay. “In my life as a sailor,” Yannick Bestaven said, “that was the biggest storm I have ever seen. Mad seas, such as I have never seen – so big and gusts of 60 knots.”

Merron’s pulpit legs broke as a result of repeated flexing and had to be lashed in place. For this type of repair she recommends using polyester, rather than Dyneema, as its inherent stretch means it keeps tension for longer, whereas it’s next to impossible to keep Dyneema tight unless it’s tensioned though a purchase system or with a Spanish windlass.

Damage to stanchions and lifelines is surprisingly common on cruising yachts, whether as a result of misdemeanours when manoeuvring in tight spaces, or encountering a breaking wave with dodgers or solar panels mounted on the rail.

Even the bestprepared IMOCAs suffered issues: Banque Populaire lost sections of mainsheet track. Photo: Yvan Zedda/Banque Populaire

Given this compromises an important safety feature, it’s worth carrying a couple of spare stanchions and figuring out in advance how to deal with a lost pushpit or pulpit.

It’s also easy to underestimate the damage seawater and dried salt crystals can do to deck hardware. Merron saved the first (slightly brackish) water each time she used watermaker freshwater to rinse salt off deck gear, especially the runner blocks and halyard locks.

The latter were rinsed immediately before hoisting a sail and also lubricated – she suffered no problems with them and they were running like new when I saw the boat after the finish.

Other common problems included chafed lines, especially tack lines, while Pip Hare and Clarisse Cremer had sections of their mainsheet traveller track carry away, requiring re-rigging using snatch blocks on strops.

Doubling up

IMOCA 60s may be minimalist in many respects, but not when it comes to mission critical systems. Redundancy of systems is essential in creating a boat that’s resilient to problems – if one element goes down you need to be able to bring a back-up into service immediately.

Even then, having two pilots didn’t enable Louis Burton to avoid problems in the south and he ended up hand-steering for a time. He later explained: “My boat has a back-up autopilot, but it’s on the same network, so if the network stops working the pilots also stop working. That issue created a lot of damage to sails and the mast that I still had to fix even once the pilot was working properly again.” As a result he came close to retiring.

By contrast Merron had two completely independent networks, one from B&G and the other NKE.
Initiatives Coeur went one stage further, with two pilots and two independent data networks that can be linked together in any combination.

Most IMOCAs had two or even three masthead wind sensors. Photo: Rupert Holmes

In addition, she has a third low-power stand-alone pilot that can be used in compass-only mode, even if the main battery switches need to be turned off to work on the system.

Is having multiple layers of redundancy in this way relevant to the rest of us? Richard Palmer, whose well travelled JPK 10.10 Jangada took 2nd overall in the 2018 RORC championship and was 2020 Yacht of the Year, is convinced it is.

Jangada is set up with two data networks, two masthead wind sensors and, as she is primarily raced short-handed, two autopilots.

Many cruising yachts would benefit from a second pilot ram interfaced with a stand-alone control unit independent of the boat’s main data network. But make sure the back-up is regularly maintained and tested.

Manuel Cousin had to remove one of his rudders to repair a large structural crack. Photo: Manuel Cousin/Groupe Setin

Many skippers reported battery charging issues, including Merron and Ari Huusela who said this was their biggest technical headache and threatened their ability to complete the race. Fortunately it has become increasingly simple to create redundancy in this area: today it’s easy to fit plenty of solar, as well as hydrogenerators or fuel cells, and even wind generators, leaving the main engine as a last-ditch back-up for charging when on passage.

Even so, it’s a worthwhile exercise to work out the minimum daily charge required to run the essential systems – basic lighting, navigation and communications – needed to remain safe on passage. You may be surprised at how little is needed – ideally each different type of charging source will be able to supply this amount. If that’s the case, failure of one or more other systems won’t compromise safety, even if life on board is not as comfortable as you’d choose.

You may be able to create simple redundancy in other ways: one night early in the race Ari Huusela woke to find the boat in a complete black-out with no power to lights, navigation equipment or any other systems.

If sailing alone you reach for a head torch and start troubleshooting, but with a larger crew the situation can quickly become fraught. Cheap stick-on battery powered LED lights positioned at strategic points within the boat can rapidly restore an air of normality, and make it easier to find the source of the problem in an emergency.

Structural repairs

A lot of skippers had to undertake structural repairs, including Alex Thomson. Charlie Dalin also had to carry out a repair on his damaged port foil and Pip Hare laminated a hydrogenerator leg together as well as a repair to stop a leak around the rudder stock after she had to replace the port rudder.

Jean Le Cam stopped to repair hull delamination twice, including using carbon cut from a water ballast tank for additional reinforcement, but didn’t have enough resin to complete the repair as he would have liked.

Fortunately instances of delamination at sea on cruising boats appear to be vanishingly rare, but hull

damage following collisions in harbours, marinas and crowded anchorages is a risk.

Basic lamination skills are quick and easy to learn and could save a long wait for a boatbuilder. Your repair doesn’t have to look pretty – it just has to be strong and watertight. A full repair, including cosmetic refinishing, can then be scheduled for a convenient later date.

Sails flog most at the leech and this is the most highly-loaded area, so needed a strong structural repair, hence the hand-sewn webbing as extra reinforcement by Boris Herrmann on Seaexplorer Yacht Club de Monaco. Photo: Boris Herrmann on Seaexplorer Yacht Club de Monaco

However, if you are preparing a spares kit for a long time it’s important to remember these products all have shelf lives of typically 2-3 years.

Manuel Cousin had to do two lots of laminating work. The first was on December 11, when he found serious structural cracks in one of Groupe Setin’s rudders. His boat has kick-up rudders that are relatively easier to remove and replace than some IMOCA 60s (such as Pip Hare’s Medallia), but even so he first sailed north into an anticyclone to reach a more stable sea state before attempting it.

It’s an important lesson to remember when cruising – it’s easy to be so preoccupied with reaching a destination that we forget it is possible to find relative shelter on the ocean.

Sail glue

One of the most impressive repairs of the entire race was Kojiro Shiraishi’s rebuilt mainsail. When a gybe following pilot failure on day six left large sections of the sail near the head in tatters it seemed as if this would put an end to his race, yet a seven-day repair effort paid off, and his fixed mainsail held until the end of the race.

The days when a sewing machine was needed for on-board repairs are long gone, although in some

Kojiro Shiraishi’s mainsail repair lasted more than 24,000 miles. Photo: Kojiro Shiraishi/DMG MORI Global One

cases a few stitches can help anchor the corners of a patch. Today’s best adhesives, such as Dr Sails, are superb and gain 80% of full strength after only 20 minutes drying time, but are also expensive and not universally available.

In Shiraishi’s case he didn’t have enough hi-tech adhesive for the extensive repairs he faced. To make matters worse, he also didn’t have anywhere near enough spare sailcloth. Yet he proved it’s possible to glue serious damage to sails using only PU adhesives such as Sikaflex, and although it must have been a painful decision to slice the bottom off his nearly new mainsail below the first reef, this gave him ample material to work with.

The fix involved gluing patches on both sides, extending 40cm or more each side of the tear, then reinforcing key areas using carbon plate glued and bolted through the sail.

One downside of using a PU adhesive, rather than an epoxy-based one like Dr Sails, is it takes longer to cure, especially at lower temperatures. Damp and salt also proved problematic for other skippers’ sail repairs, even when the area had been cleaned as carefully as possible.

Shore assist

Although the skippers are alone at sea, a Vendée Globe campaign is not a single-handed effort. The sole area in which shore teams are allowed to assist skippers during the race is providing technical advice for repairs.

Clearly it would be useful to have a similar kind of back-up when cruising. The good news for many owners is that’s not as far away as they may imagine. Many builders of quality yachts, for instance, retain comprehensive records for every boat they build and can offer a remote technical service, even for older craft.

Equally, if you’re having a boat refitted, the yard carrying out the work would be an obvious choice for continued support, especially if this can be planned at the outset.

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John Kretschmer’s Quetzal heading off on a bluewater training sail. Photo: Vivian Vuong/Ocean Passages

You might have a departure day circled red in the diary and be furiously working through a to-do list to get there. Or maybe you’re considering a bluewater sailing adventure in future, and starting to think through the preparations you need to make. You might even have postponed your big trip, and be considering how to make the most of an extra sailing season at home.

Either way, in between the jobs lists of boat upgrades and household admin and everything else, it can be easy to overlook one area of preparation: yourself. How ready, really, are you?

Are there skills or areas of knowledge you and your partner or crew could work on? Would some coaching or additional experience boost your confidence? Now, with a lot of people’s sailing plans in hiatus, could be just the time to learn.

Learning to anticipate the weather conditions leads to more relaxed sailing, says 59° North’s Andy Schell. Photo: 59° North Sailing

Regardless of whether you followed an RYA/ASA training pathway or similar, or have learnt through time on the water and poring over books and YouTube tutorials, some bluewater skills just can’t be practised until you have to do it for real.

Anchoring in coral, for example, is a hard situation to replicate. Nevertheless, there are a small number of specialist training providers who offer skills coaching specifically for sailors who are preparing for bluewater sailing and ocean sailing. We asked these hugely experienced training skippers which skills they think are worth focusing on.

Beyond your comfort zone

Amanda and John Neal have run Mahina Expeditions for over 30 years, offering onboard teaching courses, as as well seminars and their own coaching manuals.

This year they’re running 9-12 day ‘Ocean’ courses in the Pacific north-west. The curriculum, which includes training in storm survival techniques, reefing techniques, MOB retrieval practice using a life sling, learning how to make sail repairs and rig inspections, diesel and electrical training, and navigation skills from celestial navigation to sat comms, is a great starting point for anyone wondering where they might have a skills gap.

“Our goal is to have people ready to circumnavigate after 10-12 days with us,” explains John Neal.
For some sailors, going on a course like this is about accelerating the learning process, for others it’s about pushing themselves out of their comfort zone. “That’s why a lot of clients join us, because they would much rather go through these kind of testing scenarios with some structure and some backup.”

Pragmatically, doing an offshore training course may help reduce insurance premiums. “There’s so few offshore insurers in the world, and they all know who we are and in many cases send people to us,” explains John Neal.

Invaluable real-time weather analysis. Photo: Mahina Expeditions

He adds: “We encourage people to get documentation for everything they learn. Present this to the insurance company because insurers are just working on risk.”

“Your commitment to gaining as much knowledge and experience before setting off will save you time and money, and ensure you have the best chance of realising your goals,” adds Amanda. “Often these plans won’t quite go your way, but this just readies you for the realities of the life at sea.”

Weather forecasting for bluewater passagemaking

“The skill I’m most passionate about teaching, and the one that will give you the biggest bang for your buck, is weather forecasting – interpreting GRIB files, reading synoptic charts and forecasts and anticipating how you and your boat will handle changing weather at sea,” says Andy Schell of 59° North, which offers offshore passages with training opportunities on its Swan 48 and 59 yachts.

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“If you master this, there should rarely be surprises offshore. This, combined with boat handling skills – not just basic sail trim, but rather how you reef the sails to eliminate wear and tear (flogging), how you set up a downwind preventer system, how you trim sails to make life easier on your autopilot – will, more than anything else, make passagemaking more pleasant and drama free.

“I’ve found that by learning to anticipate the weather and make adjustments to the boat’s sail plan and course ahead of time – being proactive rather than reactive – I’m much more mentally at-ease at sea and enjoy the passage more. And learning about weather forecasting is something that’s perfectly suited to lockdown times.”

Schell suggests a good exercise is to practice creating your own routes, before getting the computer to calculate an optimal route. “I keep it simple: based on the weather pattern, is this passage going to be rhumbline? Or will it favour one side or other of the rhumbline?

Know how to interpret your weather data. Photo: 59° North Sailing

Remember too, with offshore cruising, weather routing should be optimised for comfort, not speed. Sometimes spending an extra day at sea beam-reaching is preferable to bashing to windward if you can make a slight route or timing adjustment.”

Schell uses LuckGRIB software on an iPad offshore, into which you can input your own boat’s polars. “In ‘cruising mode’ I set our performance at 75-80% of the polars, knowing I can match or exceed these predictions most of the time.”

Jeremy Wyatt, who has seen hundreds of cruisers off on World Cruising Club rallies, agrees that forecasting is a skill to prioritise. “While ocean weather patterns are often more predictable than those in coastal waters, you need to be able to look at the big picture – literally, if you are using GRIBs.

“Weather forecasts for oceans cover large areas and are much less detailed than closer to shore, so you need to understand how the forecasts are produced, their limits and importantly why and where to expect variations.

“There are some excellent ocean weather courses and it is well worth investing in this type of training.”

For learning resources, Jeremy Wyatt and the Neals both recommend the RYA Weather Handbook  by Chris Tibbs.

“If there isn’t a marine weather course in your area, consider signing up for an online course through www.starpath.com,” suggests John Neal. “Also, start studying Windy.com for the area that you’ll be cruising. If you’re heading further afield, Jimmy Cornell’s World Cruising Routes provides overview of both regional and specific passage weather patterns.”

Coaching from the cockpit. Photo: Sailing Totem

Other recommendations include a subscription to morganscloud.com by sailor John Harries (‘a bargain’ according to Schell at around $20 per year), and free tutorials available on Luckgrib.com.
“Behind it all is a real understanding of the different weather models, how they work, what they do and don’t do, etc. Even if you don’t use the software [it’s] very helpful,” Schell says.

Downwind helming

Often bluewater sailing in tradewinds will, if you’re lucky, involve many miles of sailing deep downwind. However, even relatively experienced sailors may not have sailed in those conditions for sustained periods, says John Kretschmer, who has taught over 130 offshore training passages.

From 2021 John Kretschmer Sailing is running offshore training voyages over a five-year circumnavigation.

“Be prepared for long periods of downwind and off the wind sailing. This might sound obvious but most coastal sailing is upwind, or reaching. A lot of times the only serious downwind sailing we get is racing, with a crew, fully tuned in to the spinnaker. That’s not the way you will sail off the wind on a long passage.

Hone your downwind sailing skills in big breeze conditions. Photo: 59° North Sailing

“We go to great lengths to plan passages with winds, which often means deep reaching or running,” Kretschmer points out. “And yet, the boat is often not set up for it, or the crew is completely surprised how challenging it is to deep reach in 25 knots apparent wind with 4m following seas.

“You need to prepare for this. First, you need to have a well-designed boom preventer system rigged and ready before you head offshore.

“Secondly, you should have a whisker pole on a track and be well versed in poling out the headsail. This is a technique that you must practice before you shove off. Trust me on this one; you’ll use the whisker pole far more than you think. With the boom prevented and the headsail poled out, the boat settles down.

“You also need to hone your downwind helming skills. I take people to sea for a living, some really good sailors too, but I’m always surprised how few have good, deep reaching helming skills. Consider your self-steering, either autopilot or wind vane; can they handle serious, downwind conditions? And can you handle steering in big seas? When it really matters you’ll need to steer with confidence.”

To develop downwind helming skills, you’ll need to put yourself in the right situation to learn. “There are some online videos that do help with downwind helming concepts, but it is one of those things that really only comes with practice,” says Kretschmer.

“On-boat coaching is a great way to go. A ‘pre-passage passage’, with a coach or able skipper, is a really good idea. Be sure to turn it into a skills course, not a pleasure cruise. Turn the autopilot off for the duration of the course, that’s incredibly instructive. It seems crazy to go searching for big seas but it’s well worth it. Our ‘heavy weather’ passages sell out a year or so in advance!”

Bluewater Reefing

One to practice, rather than be taught, but taking a fresh look at your reefing routines and rehearsing them will pay dividends, says Kretschmer. “Make sure your reefing skills are fresh, and your reefing system is effective.

“Consider this scenario: it’s blowing hard, you’re sailing on a deep reach and decide you need the second, or even third reef in the mainsail. Your crew, the family, is feeling a little dodgy, a little scared, the boat is rolling and feels close to being out of control, and you need less sail.

Practise makes perfect when it comes to your reefing routines. Photo: Vivian Vuong/Ocean Passages

You can’t just come up into the wind and start flogging the sail violently, that strategy does not work offshore in a blow, at least not for long.

“You need a strategy and the right system to allow you to a pull another reef into the main, and it’s a combination of having a good mainsail track system, and coordinated sheet and halyard control.

Practice this technique. For some reason we’re rarely taught this but offshore, with a small crew, this is the skill that will make your life better.

“Also, be sure that your headsail furling system is beefy enough to reef without completely flogging the headsail. That’s where the dangers lurk, flogging sails snarl furling lines, flailing sheets break things, and suddenly just shortening the headsail has created an emergency. These are skills, and techniques, that you can practice.”

Anchoring

Another skill that is hard to learn, but key to master, is anchoring. “Many cruisers in UK waters don’t often get the chance to practice their anchoring skills, and certainly not in sand or coral waters,” points out Jeremy Wyatt.

“Having a reliable windlass, sufficient length of chain (100m for the Pacific), and two spare anchors are all key for a bluewater sailing yacht.

“You should have confidence in your anchoring technique. Being able to drop in just the right spot; being aware of currents and planning for wind shifts, and above all, knowing when it isn’t right and pulling up to try again. If you are not confident that your boat will be where you left it when you go ashore, you won’t be able to enjoy exploring the exotic places you are in.”

Seek advice on anchoring techniques. Photo: Tor Johnson

If you’re not confident in your technique it’s worth seeking out experienced skippers to glean advice from.

“In my experience it is a skill picked up from skipper to crew, and in conversation with other cruisers,” adds Jeremy Wyatt.

“YouTube is a good resource as well. Forums will add value for different anchor types, especially across specific boats and cruising areas. Then it is a case of ‘practice makes perfect’.”

Celestial navigation

“Celestial navigation is a foreign concept to most people and it can seem daunting with heaps of confusing mathematic calculations and terms, but there are methods that can be simplified and make it fun,” says Nathan Zahrt of Ocean Passages, which offers sail training passages, mostly between the US and Caribbean, and on-boat coaching.

“There’s no doubt that we live in the GPS age, but there has been a recent resurgence in celestial navigation. Celestial navigation is often thought of as just a skill to have as a back up for more modern methods of navigation, but it can be so much more than that.

The fundamental skills can be used as quick checks on position and heading without even looking at a screen.

Celestial navigation is making a comeback. Photo: 59° North Sailing

“Dead reckoning is the basis for celestial navigation and once a sailor is able to dead reckon, they’ll always have a good idea of their position and course. Knowing where the sun is or where stars and other celestial bodies rise can let you know you’re on course with just a glance at the heavens. The finer skills make every sailor safer and more connected to the natural world.”

Celestial Navigation, The Minimal Manual by Bruce Steely (new in 2020) is “the most simple and comprehensive celestial nav book that I have seen,” according to Zahrt. The Practical Celestial Navigation Facebook group includes frequent webinars and workshops for beginners through experts. Andy Schell also recommends reednavigation.com taught by Frank Reed.

Engine maintenance

“Diesel engines are daunting for many sailors. I meet sailors all the time who are completely intimidated by their diesel, so much so that they just say, ‘I’ll never learn how this thing works,’ and resign themselves to relying on mechanics if anything ever goes wrong,” says Zahrt.

“Once out crossing an ocean, however, there’s nobody to rely on but themselves.”

Engine knowledge is vital at sea. Photo: Mahina Expeditions

Jeremy Wyatt says that taking a diesel maintenance course can be a good investment: “Being able to do the basics yourself saves a lot of time in organising local mechanics. But most importantly, having the confidence to troubleshoot problems, and fix them (while at sea, or to avert a potential problem) is a tremendous asset.”

“Before heading offshore, you must know how to change fuel and oil filters, the water pump impeller, fuel lift pump and adjust belt tension,” advises Amanda Neal.

Nigel Calder’s esteemed handbooks Marine Diesel Engines and Boat Owner’s Mechanical and Electrical Manual are still widely recommended. There is an online diesel maintenance course at boatersuniversity.com

Communication

So-called ‘soft’ skills are often overlooked, but in situations where you may be challenging yourself and those around you, interpersonal skills become increasingly important.

“The most important skills to develop are leadership and communication, which many people neglect,” says Teresa Carey of Morse Alpha Expeditions, which runs coastal and offshore sail-training expeditions between Maine and Bermuda.

“Most accidents at sea don’t happen because the crew as a whole lacks the necessary skills. Most happen because of a communication breakdown – even if people don’t like to admit it.

Interpersonal communication skills are often overlooked when it comes to training for life on passage. Photo: 59° North Sailing

“In the maritime world, there’s a tradition of having a strict hierarchy. I often hear people say, ‘I’m the captain, I have the final say.’ I have concerns about people who need to express this overtly. Sailing should never get to ‘the final say.’

“We’ve been in some hairy situations, and still [my husband] Ben and I have always been co-captains. It has never been a problem. We actively practice communication and leadership skills. We also focus on these skills in our training.

“In addition to technical skills, we give people practical, hands-on training as captain, crew, and co-captain. Many of our students have told us years later that the communication training saved their marriage, and they use our ‘tricks’ on and off the boat.”

Nathan Zahrt recommends the book Crucial Conversations by Al Switzler, Joseph Grenny & Ron McMillan for learning more about communication skills under pressure.

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Yachting World is the world’s leading magazine for bluewater cruisers and offshore sailors. Every month we have inspirational adventures and practical features to help you realise your sailing dreams.

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Cape Horn sailors and ditch diggers sacrificed all to make the path between the Atlantic and Pacific easier for the rest of us. It is a surreal situation to find yourself floating in a small yacht alongside a giant ship in a box of water 25m above sea level. Entering the canal was thrilling, stressful, and awkward. Descending the last lock was euphoric. The Panama Canal is a gem to treasure.

Considering the alternative routes, the canal is a blink between oceans. Yet a smooth transit benefits from advance planning. Our research began about three months in advance after we learned how seasonal congestion can increase the waiting time from arrival in Colón to an assigned transit date. Most of the year, four to six days is typical. During the high season from late January through May, six to 20 days is the range from completion of measurement and fee payment until an assigned canal transit date. For South Pacific-bound boats, December until mid-January is a sweet spot for minimal delay.

The slowdown escalates with the arrival of the World ARC rally. Having waved the fleet off in Colombia we decided to spend a few weeks of leisurely sailing through the turquoise waters of Panama’s Guna Yala instead of adding to the spike in transiting vessels. Hiring an agent was our answer to first staying in tune with the length of the delay, then having an advocate who could help us find a slot to get through sooner during the peak-season waiting period.

An agent will help you through the paperwork and can sometimes get you an earlier transit slot All photos ©Behan Gifford/Sailing Totem

We arrived in Colón, Panama, followed by blustery tradewinds and rolling seas that finally abated behind the canal zone’s massive breakwater. Mooring options are few on the Caribbean side of the canal: there are a couple of designated areas for anchoring among the commercial stacks and cargo ships, but they come with security risks and limited options for going ashore. Boats waiting longer than a few days often sail either to nearby Portobelo or further afield to the Guna Yala (San Blas islands) or Bocas del Toro. The lone mooring option on the Caribbean side is Shelter Bay Marina, where we berthed our Stevens 47 Totem to await transit.

Step one: Get your boat measured

Our agent, Erick Galvez with Centenario, met us shortly after we tied up in Shelter Bay to confirm the process. A friendly face at the dock and perfect English softened the news of delays. You have to go through measurement and payment first before entering the ACP system to get a transit date assigned – a transit date cannot be reserved in advance.

Galvez accepted our payment and scheduled an Admeasurer (measurements for transit are only done by an official representative of the Panama Canal Authority, or ACP) for the next day. If you choose to do paperwork yourself, it’s a call to the Admeasurer’s office (English is spoken by all canal officials) to arrange a time and location for your boat’s measurement.

Our assigned transit date meant two weeks in the marina, but Erick’s efforts sourced multiple opportunities for earlier slots. In the end doing rigging jobs for Pacific-bound vessels sweetened the deal of a longer stay.

Heavy duty fenders are essential for rafting up

Step two: Pay canal fees

Galvez took care of payment as part of his agent services, providing a receipt outlining fees. If you’re organising your own paperwork, the Admeasurer provides a form which you take to Citibank and pay. The biggest variable is based on the size of your boat. Under 50ft, the transit toll is $800. For boats 50-80ft, the fee is $1,300. Length is a true ‘length overall’ including bowsprit, pulpits, davits, etc. Totem’s documentation shows our LOA at 46ft 8in but we exceeded 50ft when measured from the front of our anchor to dinghy davits. Deflating the dinghy edged us just below the 50ft mark of the Admeasurer’s indisputable tape.

In addition to the ACP charges, a buffer fee of nearly $900 is due. This is a bond to cover potential fines or additional charges which could be incurred by missing an assigned slot, being too slow, needing a water taxi for line handlers, or other events. An agent covers the buffer fee for you.

For do-it-yourself transiters, the fee (like other official canal tolls) can be paid by credit card, in cash, or bank wire transfer at Citibank along with other standard fees. The buffer will be reimbursed after a successful canal transit is completed.

Our all-in cost to transit the canal (including non-canal specific formalities) was a little over $2,000: this included visas, cruising permit, and clearance fees. It’s a lot of money, but Cape Horn and the North West Passage present inconvenient alternatives and the necessary gear would have set us back more than that!

Every step of the process with Canal authorities was above board, the only flaw being a port captain in Colón who claimed an error in our original entry formalities required a $20 fee to correct. As it was one hour from our scheduled departure, we were stuck without any option to dispute it – delaying transit could incur an ACP fine. It is one of the only times in our decade of cruising we’ve knowingly paid an ‘unofficial fee’.

The new Agua Clara/Cocoli looks were opened in 2016 for the largest shipping, but yachts and smaller vessels still use the smaller Gatun/Miraflores locks

Key Costs:

Transit toll < 50ft, $800; 50ft+, $1,300

Inspection $54

Security $130

Agent $350-500

Line handlers   $100/person (or seek volunteers from other transiters)

Lines/fenders $50-$250

Fender return $12

Cruising permit $197

From the Caribbean, the Bridge of the Americas marks the gateway to the Pacific Ocean

Step three: Organise transit logistics

Four line handlers are compulsory aboard, and four lines meeting canal transit specifications are required. You’ll also want robust fenders.

An agent will organise all of these, or you can source them locally yourself. The morning VHF net, marina bulletin board, regional Facebook groups, and the cruiser’s Coconut Telegraph will connect you with local suppliers.

Line handlers are commonly recruited from other cruising boats. Joining a boat to transit is excellent preparation for taking your boat through, and a way to pay it forward when it’s time to find your own handlers.

If you don’t find volunteers, experienced Panamanians can be hired for around $100. Whoever comes aboard, make sure they know how to tie a proper knot and have basic boat sense, and will be ready to work instead of take pictures.

Lock lines must be must be a minimum of 125ft long and between 7⁄8-11⁄2in (23-38mm) diameter. While most boats will gravitate towards standard fenders, the budget option of plastic-wrapped tyres are a fine alternative for protecting your hull from the rough concrete wall or your lock neighbour.

Final preparations to ensure a smooth transit include anticipating meals, snacks, and beverages for the duration.

Transit typically takes two days, the night spent tied to a large buoy just outside the channel in Lake Gatun.

In addition to line handlers, your crew will include at least one canal advisor (occasionally there’s a trainer/trainee pair). Hot meals are expected by the advisers, as is bottled water and cold Coke. Snacks should be available for the duration.

Step four: Time to go!

“Cristobal Signal Station, Cristobal Signal Station, this is sailing vessel Totem.” After weeks of anticipation and planning, this VHF call to inform the port entry co-ordinator of Totem’s location marks the start of our canal journey. We were assigned a one-day transit: the sky was just beginning to lighten when Totem’s advisor, Roy, was dropped off by water taxi. Roy proved to be a significant asset for ensuring a safe transit. Cruising boats are most commonly rafted in pairs or a trio to transit the canal as a block, and Roy directed our raft’s formation. Totem was designated centre boat (making Roy the lead advisor for the raft) based on propulsion ability.

We knew we liked Roy when he dryly commented, “Perfect, now we have big fenders to protect us,” upon seeing two aluminum-hulled Ovni cruising boats approach to raft up.

The canal is roughly 37 miles long, most of which is the waterway of Lake Gatun and Culebra Cut between the trios of locks at each end. Entering from the Caribbean side, three sequential chambers of the Gatun locks lift vessels up around 90ft. Howler monkeys in the jungle nearby greeted sunrise as we approached the first lock behind a large ro-ro car carrier.

Each yacht has an advisor (dropped off by water taxi) and each raft has a lead advisor

When the lock doors close and water level changes, line handlers tension (or loosen) the lines according to the adviser’s instructions. It’s harder than it sounds and requires close attention. One of the boats next to us was inattentive with easing and caused the raft to shift, a potentially dangerous situation for the boats. The crew realised and scrambled to secure the line, and twice nearly caught hands in the process. So much better to keep focused on the role!

Our raft remained intact through the first three locks, then separated to cross Lake Gatun and proceed through the cut towards the Pacific side locks. This was the longest part of the transit, a time for us to relax and enjoy a meal. March is dry season; we could relax in the cockpit for this part of the journey, learning from our adviser about his experiences and appreciating the sights: our history buffs anticipated seeing the crane named Titan that was taken as a Second World War prize, and the animal lovers aboard worked at spotting birds, monkeys, and crocodiles (a 3m croc swam alongside us in the Culebra Cut).

The adviser isn’t the captain – you’re still responsible for boat and crew –but our number one takeaway to transit safely is that it’s essential to work tightly with the adviser. They understand the lock conditions: some instructions may seem odd, like directions to turn the boat to point towards a lock wall, but it’s for a reason. There could be a four-knot current deflected by the wall, and their goal is to prevent the raft from spinning out.

Leaving the Miraflores locks behind, Totem motored towards the Bridge of the Americas and the Pacific Ocean. This marked our return to the body of water where our journey began, the last leg of our circumnavigation, and the final weeks aboard as a family of five before our eldest heads for college. A momentous event, suitably witnessed by a monumental creation.

For the Totem family, transiting the Panama Canal marked the closing stage of a round the world voyage

Tips for a smooth canal transit

• Keep decks clear. Move or stow items to keep the area around bow and stern cleats as clear as possible.

• Ensure all fairleads are fair to start. Re-leading takes time you may not have if currents start spinning the raft.

• Stern lines took the most load. Consider running them to a cockpit winch with the stern cleat as a guide to provide better control and mechanical advantage.

• Prep line handlers well. Hold a crew meeting. Make sure they understand how critical it is to be alert: they should not expect to use a GoPro or post on social media during transit.

• Repeat instructions from the adviser. It confirms you have heard and are responding to the action called for. It may serve to clarify the adviser’s intentions when issuing rapid instructions.

• Engage your adviser. Talk through manoeuvres in advance, asking for clarification on next steps and understanding actions they will want you to take before they need to happen. 

• PAY ATTENTION! The lead adviser (who is not necessarily on your boat) may call for rapid engine and/or steering changes. 

The post Through the Panama Canal in your yacht: everything you need to know appeared first on Yachting World.

The Russian owner of a superyacht came ashore at the Fijian island of Wadigi and asked the owner, Tracey Johnston, how much she wanted for it. “It’s not for sale,” she told him. “No, how much do you want?” he insisted.

But Wadigi wasn’t for sale, not at any price, and as soon as you land on the island you can understand the conversation from both sides: why the Russian wanted to buy; why Tracey didn’t care to sell.

Wadigi is where Tracey and her husband, Jim, run a small and very beautiful island hotel, and she tells us this story as she leads us to the top of her island to shoot the final footage for our new Bluewater Sailing Techniques series, which we launch in print and online this month. The island overlooks a narrow channel and this was a perfect vantage point to see the yacht Skyelark of London reaching across between two dazzling turquoise-coloured reefs.

Wadigi

With palm trees and long beaches, empty bays and hundreds of quiet islands, Fiji is a tropical dreamscape. The whole of the south Pacific, in its vast half-a-globe entirety, is filled with islands so beautiful you cannot quite believe you’re lucky enough to be there.

But we were there: me, IPC Media’s creative director, Brett Lewis, cameraman Mike Deppe and Jonathan Reynolds, an insurance claims specialist representing our sponsors, Pantaenius. It was at the suggestion of Pantaenius that we came to the Pacific. When we proposed a bluewater series they said: go there; this is where yachts are heading now. Happy to oblige.

We planned to prepare and film a 12-part Bluewater Sailing Techniques series, with the help of Dan and Em Bower and their yacht Skyelark. Dan would be writing the features, all of which can be foune HERE.

I’ve cruised among the Pacific islands several times before, on passages from the Marquesas to Tahiti and onwards to Tonga, and have always considered it to be the finest sailing I have ever done. Simply put, the Pacific is magic.

Most yachtsmen do not get there. They say they plan to, but the Panama Canal is a portcullis gateway, a commitment too far. Once through, you are almost certainly committed to sailing round the world and so faced with a series of ocean passages to equal or exceed a transatlantic crossing.

This immensity has kept much of the Pacific remote, and it remains in my mind – and that of most others who have sailed there – a Holy Grail of cruising. What we went there to do was to illustrate the passagemaking and pilotage skills that will set sailors up for crossing any ocean safely and comfortably, and add on to that a few of the extra arts to use, and enjoy, among the coral atolls of the Pacific.

Meeting Dan and Em Bower, Bluewater authors

We joined Skyelark at Port Denerau Marina, which lies a few miles from the international airport in Nadi. Here we met Dan and Em Bower, who had cruised from the UK to Fiji in the World ARC rally and recently left it so that they could sail to Australia and continue onwards in their own time.

Dan and Em, both full-time professional skippers, have logged several hundred thousand miles. They usually work with charter guests of varying expertise, so were ideal people to demonstrate the skills needed for tradewinds ocean voyaging.

Port Denerau is a big, modern marina surrounded by a golf course, water park, hotels and a shopping mall; great, perhaps, if you’ve had months among desert islands, but not somewhere that felt truly Fijian. So we left and motored to the island of Mololo Lalai and Musket Cove Yacht Club.

The moorings and open-fronted, palm-thatched ‘clubhouse’ bar is a congregating point for long-distance yachtsmen, and the anchorage has been famous among round the world cruisers ever since it was set up in 1976 by an Australian, Dick Smith.

Our first few days were spent sailing out of Musket Cove practising sailing wing and wing with poled-out headsail and main – the standard, no-nonsense rig for downwind ocean voyaging – and trying some man overboard routines. With that done, we set sail for a taste of out-island Fiji.

The Yasawa group is a sparsely populated chain of hilly islands to the north-west of Viti Levu. The first European to sail through them was Captain William Bligh in 1789 who, with a handful of loyal crew, had been set adrift in an open boat without charts or compass following the mutiny on HMS Bounty. They tried to make a safe landing.

Bligh had previously fled the island of Tofua when one of his crew was stoned to death by natives and feared a hostile reception at Yasawa. He was right: they were chased by cannibals in what is now known as Bligh Water and had to continue westward. They finally made landfall at Timor after an incredible 3,600-mile voyage.

So life in the islands of Fiji barely changed until the 19th Century and was only charted by a US expedition in 1840. Even today some of the outer islands have few visitors other than yachtsmen.

We sailed along the western coast of Waya and anchored as the sun set off the village of Yalobi, a community of some 150 people sheltering beneath a high ridge of hills. During the night, the wind went very light and at times we were lying beam on to a slight scend that sent us rolling uncomfortably. In the morning we decided it was the perfect opportunity to demonstrate how to use a tender to lay a kedge anchor and hold the yacht bows to the swell.

No sooner had we started preparing than, sure enough, a breeze ruffled the bay and Skyelark swung into wind and sea. The forecast was for light winds for the next few days so we carried on, videoing Dan laying out the kedge astern. We attached a tripping line to the anchor and paid it out, but at some point later on the buoy at the end of the line came loose and floated away. Later that was to be an inconvenience that could have been a real problem.

After that, we went ashore. Island life in Yalobi is simple. The villagers live a barefoot life, mainly in small, tin-roofed houses with only one room, where the living quarters are separated from the sleeping area by a curtain. Cooking is done on a raised platform outside and water is taken from standpipes. It is a subsistence economy: the villagers grow fruit and vegetables such as kasava, plantain, mango and bananas in their gardens, travelling by boat on Fridays to Viti Levu to sell any surplus.

Sailor’s aid

Ironically enough, the first person we met was an Australian, Carolyn Mowbray who, with her husband, Tony, has lived in Yalobi on and off for the past three years. Tony is a round the world sailor who first visited Waya three years ago in his yacht, Commitment, found the village so friendly and beautiful that he decided to return and now lives here for much of the year. The Mowbrays have helped organise funding and practical projects for the village, and that day Tony was completing a two-year scheme to install solar power in the village school.

Carolyn introduced us to Atu, a local fisherman, who took us hunting for octopus among the reefs. As we paddled along, I asked him how he knew where he could find them hiding, and he merely noted that they are “very clever” and cover the entrances to their hiding holes with fine stones or sand. Atu was rarely fooled, however, and prodded them out with a fine metal rod, before thrashing them to release the ink and kill them off. After a couple more hours of bashing to tenderise the meat back at home, he cooked them with plantain and coconut cream. It was delicious.

Tony had arranged for us to take part in a traditional Fijian sevu sevu ceremony, where we would be welcomed to the village by the chief and elders, drink kava with them and dance. The ritual is more than merely a tourist gesture. Another settler we met several days later told us that only eight per cent of Fiji is privately owned and that landing on an island without getting ceremonial permission, even if it is uninhabited, is a serious breach of etiquette.

Tony and Carolyn suggested that we might like to have a meal with a local family, and that by paying them ten Fiji dollars a head (about €3) it would help one of the poorer groups. So she arranged for us to have dinner with Andi and her mother-in-law, Taisita.

Andi’s husband Tom died last year from liver cancer at the age of 42, leaving her to care for her son, five-year-old Tom junior. She lives with Taisita in a one-room house. Unlike some of their neighbours, they had a sofa and a raised bed, on which we were immediately offered seats.

As it grew dark they lit a paraffin lamp and we all sat together on the floor while they brought out bowls of plantain, kasava, sea grapes and tuna, stewed mutton and curried papaya, a feast of special dishes. Andi’s father, Tui, joined in and answered our questions about the way of life on Waya and on the big island, and lamented the problem of addiction to kava that he said blights many Fijian communities.

As we were making our way back to the beach we could see the tops of the palms blowing wildly. A full moon was lighting up the bay and it was clear right away that the wind was up and driving a short chop into the bay. Skyelark was lying off a lee shore, with a reef not far astern. We needed get back on board and leave, sharpish.

Getting out of trouble

The six of us got back in two wet dinghy trips. Clambering on board from alongside required careful timing: Skyelark was hobbyhorsing enthusiastically in the swell. The problem now was that we were lying to both bower anchor and kedge, so the stern anchor had to be retrieved (or, if not, buoyed and left behind) before we could leave.

The tripping line, minus its buoy, had sunk so Dan and Jonathan drove out to it in the moonlight pulling along the rode. When over the top of the anchor, Jonathan gave a huge heave and muscled it out. There was no safe opportunity to get the outboard off the dinghy in the swell and darkness; we just had to go. We weighed anchor, slowly motoring ahead as the windlass wound back in the 80m of chain we had payed out and we were off.

Our bail-out plan was to motor to windward through the night back to Viti Levu and a safe, protected bay behind a line of mangroves. By the time we arrived at about 0200 the wind had died again.

Contained within an outer line of reefs, the Fijian archipelago is dotted with reefs and extreme care is needed when making landfall. This is the case across most of the south Pacific, where the charting is notoriously inaccurate. Large areas have been poorly surveyed and never properly updated – I have heard of some atolls in French Polynesia where the charts have been four or more miles out. In Fiji, on average between two and 12 yachts are lost on reefs each year.

Modern satellite imaging and free sources such as Google Earth are fast changing this, and there are a number of smart, community-minded cruisers who have geo-referenced images far more accurately than current paper or electronic charts (we feature this next month). Nonetheless, there is no substitute for caution and age-old pilotage methods, and these are what we went to the island of Mana to demonstrate.

Neither electronic nor paper charts show any lagoon at all at Mana. But a lagoon does exist behind the coral reefs, as does a very narrow tide-swept pass through the coral reefs. To enter, you need to time the tide right and thread through to a large anchorage strewn with coral heads.

With Dan at the spreaders getting an excellent view of the pass from above and me at the bow, Em worked our way in under engine, slowly motoring ahead against a gentle ebb. Once into the entrance we were committed.

Many of the atoll passes in the Pacific are poorly marked, and the Tuamotus and the atoll of Suwarrow in the Cook Islands, for example, are completely unmarked. The pass at Mana had channel posts, but several of these had fallen down or moved from their intended positions, illustrating why conning in visually is essential.

Once inside the lagoon at Mana, we got ready to anchor. Dan attached small buoys on short lines at every 10m of chain paid out, in order to lift the cable just off the sea bed and prevent it wrapping around any unseen coral heads. While you want to avoid damaging any coral, heads rising from the bottom can be impossible to avoid if you are anchoring in a deep lagoon and hooking the chain on one can make weighing anchor again really difficult.

Castaway like Tom Hanks

After a night in Mana we left to do some more filming. In the movie Cast Away, Tom Hanks stars as a FedEx employee and postage obsessive who is involved in a plane crash over the Pacific and is washed up on a deserted island. That island is Monuriki, a small, but dramatic lump of rock in the ocean that trails a golden sand beach like the tail of a comet.

We had a brisk beat up to Monuriki under one reef, but when we got there the wind had risen sharply to 30 knots and more, and low clouds of drizzle were sweeping across at speed. Fiji is at a point in the southern Tropics that comes into contact with weather systems tracking east from Australia, yet the forecasts we received didn’t tally with reality. In any case, it was too windy to stop, and even landing briefly would have been sporting, so we turned round and enjoyed an exhilarating sail downwind to Musket Cove, slaloming between the reefs.

We all hankered after a return to Waya, a walk up the hills and the batch of special coconut lolo buns we’d ordered from a local woman in Yalobi before being hurriedly forced to do a runner in the dark, but there was no time to go back. So we set ourselves up in Musket Cove to carry out the rest of the filming and made the most those enticements that, when all the ocean sailing and navigation is done, are bait for cruisers the world over: cold beer and wi-fi.

Cruising in the Pacific

While ocean passages in the Pacific tend to be easier sailing than the Atlantic, it does have its challenges. Dan Bower of Skyelark says: “The sailing has been easier: calmer, with lighter winds and not so squally. Most of the sailing we’ve done has been with poled-out headsails.

“But the distances between ‘civilised’ ports and technical services is greater. Chandlery is hard to find and getting spares by FedEx can take weeks. It took three months for us to get generator parts. You have got to be a lot more self-sufficient and carry more spares on board.

“And the navigation is more taxing. The quality of the charts is poorer and there is a lack of
up to date pilotbooks, so finding safe anchorages and navigating among reefs, and getting into lagoons and atolls is harder.”

Our experience in having to hurry away from Waya is also typical among the south Pacific islands. Many sailors more used to conditions in the eastern Caribbean do not expect such drastic wind changes as commonly occur in this area and every year boats get into serious trouble when caught out by a sudden windshift.

You can be anchored in a sheltered spot and a 180° windshift can suddenly put the boat onto a lee shore, faced with a violent swell quickly formed by several miles of fetch across the wide lagoon. You have to be ready to leave in an instant!

Cruising in the Pacific is seasonal. The southern summer is the cyclone season, when an estimated 80 per cent of cruisers leave, either carrying on round the world or dipping down to Australia or New Zealand. Cyclone-proof harbours are scarce in the Pacific, though more are being built – there are some in Fiji, including Vuda on Viti Levu and Musket Cove. At the former, yachts are hauled out and secured in dug-out pits.

Although they may seem daunting, none of these points should deter you from setting your sights on the Pacific. I have never talked to anyone who has cruised there who wouldn’t seize the opportunity to return.

The Pacific islands are nearly all safe and friendly, there is a genuine welcome from local people almost everywhere you go, the seascape and landscape are sensational and the island cultures among the most interesting anywhere in the world. If you get the chance, go.

Dan and Em Bower

Dan and Em Bower, both in their thirties, are lifelong sailors. Six years ago they bought Skyelark of London, a Skye 51 by American designer Rob Ladd, built in Taiwan in 1986, and have been sailing and chartering her ever since, making some 12 transatlantic crossings and covering around 60,000 miles.

Before that they both worked as charter skippers and instructors, and Em has sailed in yachts as varied as a Challenge 67 to Antarctica and an Open 60 in an Atlantic storm.

When we joined them they had just left the World ARC round the world rally to continue on to Australia by themselves.

Part 2: Navigating in coral

How to get the best out of eyeball navigation into a reef pass

See videos for all the parts here

12-part series in association with Pantaenius

The post Bluewater Sailing Techniques Part 1: introducing our 12-part series with a cruise in the Pacific appeared first on Yachting World.

A deserted tropical paradise is getting harder to find, particularly in the busier Caribbean Islands where the number of visiting yachts means that any straightforward, well-marked pretty bay is full to bursting.

However, with a little work and skill there are still little treasures to be uncovered. Even in peak season in the British Virgin Islands, for example, you can find your own private spot – if you’re prepared to do a bit of eyeball navigation pilotage.

In the Pacific and further afield this becomes more of a necessity. With the exception of commercial harbours, most of the islands in the South Pacific and Indonesia don’t have much in the way of manmade navigational marks, and the only shelter to be found is inside the coral lagoons. Nagivating in coral and getting through a reef pass is the only way to experience the idyllic atolls that most yachtsmen are looking for.

Navigating an unmarked pass

This is one of those rare opportunities that requires going back to basics with pilotage and navigation skills. We are so used to trusting our chartplotters implicitly that the notion of your eyes being right even when the display clearly indicates something different is a touch disquieting.

In the main, I believe our navigation software. When it shows the very berth I’m tied to, it’s hard not to be impressed, but further from home accuracy cannot be assured and you can become unstuck. In a well-documented case in 2010, a Clipper round the world race yacht hit a reef the crew thought they were missing by over a mile.

The problem is not the GPS, it is the charts. Many are reliant on data from the 1860s, with positions derived from surveys using a sextant and visual fixes. This causes two main problems: charted passages may not be sufficiently detailed or accurate; and you may not be where your GPS thinks you are. This is known as chart offset and applies particularly in the South Pacific islands.

Don’t despair, the charts are a very good representation of what exists, but they need to be taken in context. Visual pilotage is actually easier than ever if you have a good radar set, forward-facing sonar and satellite photos courtesy of Google Earth.

Key points for a coral pass

It is important to enter on your own terms and in your own time. If possible, consider a close alternative anchorage to wait for the optimum conditions and perhaps even check out the pass with a dinghy. Speak to other skippers who are already in (or have been in), visiting by tender or speaking to them on a radio net.

Make sure you plan your arrival time and only enter if the conditions are right.

Tidal flow – slack water is the optimal time to enter, and even then there will be wind-driven current in the pass. The ebb tide is the most troublesome, with a higher flow rate and increased risk of standing waves. (Slack tide can be found in publications or calculated as 12 hours from moonrise/set).

Sunlight is the most important consideration, as you need to be able to see what’s under the water, so the sun must be high, and preferably behind you. Overcast or even short-term cloud obscuring the sun affects what you can distinguish.

You need a good pilotage plan, principally how to confirm your position with the chart: for example, visual fixes, contour lines, transits, clearing lines and back bearings.

Satellite imagery comes with many chart packs or can be obtained in advance from Google Earth and that will help you to familiarise yourself with the passage. Georeferenced images can also indicate chart offset if overlaid on your chart.

Ready to enter?

Get the engine on, the sails down (but lash the main halyard so the sail is ready to hoist again quickly if your engine fails), the crew prepared and briefed. The crew are going to be your pilots so familiarise them with the charts and photos.

Agree hand signals or commands if using a headset. Clear and practised communication is critical. Are they pointing to a danger or saying go that way?

Identify your position. Is it correct relative to the chart? Confirm with visual fix, spot depths, radar overlay and good old MkI eyeball. Some chartplotters allow you to alter chart offset manually, allowing you to move your position relative to the chart. This can be useful, but do not rely on it.

Make a mental note of your line of retreat, or place of refuge. That sounds pessimistic, but it’s better to have a bailout plan – even if you don’t need it, it will make you feel a whole lot better! This is a time for the GPS: record your track so you can follow it in and out.

Keep your eyes primed. Reef navigation is all about the eyeball, so you have to give them their best chance. The main thing that helps is height. An aerial view is much clearer than a view from the deck, so consider sending a crewmember up to the spreaders to con you in. If you have crew to spare then post another on the bow. Polarised sailing sunglasses can help cut through the glare.

If crew numbers allow, place someone competent at the helm so that the skipper can pilot the boat in. That way you’re free to take bearings, worry about the chart (literally) and move to the best vantage points – you have enough to do. The helmsman can concentrate on steering.

Keep an eye on the currents. Around reefs these can be strong and variable, and often flow towards danger; it’s not uncommon to have sideways currents at the entrance to a pass, so monitor your ground track.

Proceed slowly and look where you’re going. Having a pilotage plan is great, but remember it is only as good as the chart. Place trust in your crew and depth sounder. Forward-facing sonar is useful if you have it.

Usually a coral pass leads into a clear and safe lagoon – hopefully the paradise you were looking for. Consider your anchorage point and aim for a sandy patch as anchoring in coral is, if not illegal, irresponsible.

It is a good plan to save your track because then you can find your way out along a known safe route. Consider taking off a couple of waypoints and transferring them to your chart – belt and braces if your track gets lost – and can be useful for a future visit.

Entering Mana

Entering the pass at Mana in Fiji is tricky, as we show in our video above. It is narrow and twisty, poorly marked and has a strong ebbing stream. Once you are in the pass there is no option to abort as there is simply not enough room for you to turn around safely.

Our charts, which are up to date and the best you can get, show no pass into the island, or any lagoon at all. We had a hand-drawn sketch chart from a pilot book, but without any reference points.

We used a Google Earth overlay to provide an idea of what we would be entering, and we transferred waypoints from that onto our on-deck GPS to give us something to go on, but from that point on, it was all about eyeball navigation.

With one person up the mast, one on the foredeck, motoring just fast enough to keep steerage we threaded our way through the reef, avoiding some mid-channel coral heads.

Satellite images are available as bolt-ons with proprietary chart packs, or it is possible to make your own with Google Earth using open source software (GE2KAP), or download charts from the cruising community who have put them together for the greater good. For instance, for the Pacific an amazing resource has been compiled by cruising sailors Sherry and Dave aboard Soggy Paws – http://svsoggypaws.com/files/.

You must test for yourself the accuracy and limitations of these. They are only available for a computer-based system and need navigation software to overlay the GPS position. Not all programs will recognise them as charts. A free, simple package is OpenCPN.

Do’s and don’ts

√ Do agree hand signals with the crew. Are they pointing where to go, or to the danger? (We point to a danger, or wave in the direction we want to go)

√ Do use floats at intervals on your anchor chain to minimise the chance of getting the chain wrapped around coral heads

√ Do remember dinghies and outboards can also be susceptible to coral heads where it is very shallow

x Don’t forget local advice. Radio other yachts in the anchorage (isn’t AIS great?) as they may have local advice about the passes and where is clear or foul for anchoring

x Don’t assume charts are accurate. Atolls and lagoons have patches that are unsurveyed, so great care is needed here.

Top tips

• Get a pair of good-quality polarising sunglasses; they will help you see below the glare on the water surface. Here we are holding up a polarisign filter to show how it works
  

• Rain run-off from rivers will affect water clarity, so consider the conditions and local terrain, and proceed cautiously if the water is cloudy. Get someone aloft if possible.

• It’s easy to confuse dark patches cast by cloud shadows with coral heads, so you’ll need to interpret as you go.

• Proceed with great caution if it’s overcast, and if possible make sure the timing of passing clouds or squalls won’t coincide with a critical phase of eyeball navigation.

• If going through a running pass or breaking into a coral atoll, take great care: there is likely to be current against you. There may be less current at the edges of the pass.

• If there is a choice when entering a coral pass, always take the leeward one, but if there isn’t, try to enter at slack tide or on the flood to minimise the sea state or any standing waves.

• When leaving, you will have current with you and your SOG will be greater, so retrace your original route carefully.

• If in doubt, use your GPS track to retrace your route and wait for another time – or day if need be.

Dan and Em Bower

Dan and Em Bower, both in their thirties, are lifelong sailors. Six years ago they bought Skyelark of London, a Skye 51 by American designer Rob Ladd, built in Taiwan in 1986, and have been sailing and chartering her ever since, making some 12 transatlantic crossings and covering around 60,000 miles.

Part 3: Coping with squalls

How to prepare for and deal with those sudden squalls you face in the Tropics

See videos for all the parts here

12-part series in association with Pantaenius

The post Bluewater Sailing Techniques Part 2: Navigating in coral appeared first on Yachting World.

Tradewind sailing on the tropical route is often called the milk run. This is living the dream. Facing into the sunset with 15-25 knots of breeze at your back and surfing in rolling ocean swells, clocking record daily runs, are some of the reasons why every year hundreds of yachts head across oceans into the tropics and further afield. Of course, the destination also helps . . . and the rum.

The fly in the ointment and probably the biggest fear for the uninitiated is the tropical squall. This can be anything from a benign gust to a deluge of torrential rain with wild windshifts, sail-splitting gusts and sustained 50 per cent increases in wind speed.

When caught unawares, a squall can be enough to challenge any sailor’s sense of enjoyment and can be petrifying and dangerous to the novice or the seriously over-canvassed.

Squalls in the tropics are usually isolated features that are too small and short-lived to be forecast on their own, though areas of increased activity can be visible and predicted; when they form in squall lines they can usually be well forecast.

Individual squalls are usually relatively brief, whereas a squall line could last for many hours. The principle for preparation, though, is the same.

The art of dealing will squalls is to identify them and prepare the boat and crew. Then they can even be enjoyed as an exhilarating and refreshing experience – as well as presenting the crew with an opportunity for a freshwater shower.

The good news is that on an Atlantic passage the frequency and intensity of the squalls increase towards the Caribbean and this is usually after you are halfway across. By then you have tradewind sailing and onboard living down to a fine art and tend to become very good at observing the clouds and spotting squalls.

Identifying a squall

Fortunately, in daytime at least, squalls can be identified clearly as a tall cloud with a flat, dark base, often with a dark slab of rain visible underneath. Owing to their make up and watery content they also usefully show up on radar, so make sure any rain filters are turned off.

At night it’s much harder to spot them and a nervous watchkeeper may see a squall in every cloud. On bright, moonlit nights clouds all seem to have a dark and threatening bottom and as a charter skipper I’m called on deck countless times to “look at that cloud”. I encourage this (although I often delegate it to the mate) as it’s an opportunity to teach identification to the crew.

If in doubt, treat it as a squall.

Tracking squalls

Squalls are generally not huge, and as often as not will pass you by. An awareness of the wind direction and how the clouds are moving will help identify it as a threat. If in any doubt, think of it in the same terms as collision avoidance with another vessel: if it’s on a constant bearing, it’s coming for you! Radar can also help; just track it like you would a ship.

If only a small course alteration is required to miss the squall, that can be very worthwhile in the long term, but anything more than that is probably not time- or energy-efficient. You’re going to have to go through one at some stage and with a good routine they don’t need to be a drama.

In lighter winds racing boats will route towards them in the hope of a quicker ride for a period and if you’re low on fresh water it can be an opportunity to fill the tanks or take an impromptu shower.

Preparations

The problem with squalls is their unpredictable and fickle nature. Sometimes a rainbow-wielding monster can have no effect on the wind speed, and sometimes it can even reduce the wind.

This can be quite an anticlimax, disappointing after the effort of dousing the spinnaker, popping in a couple of reefs and donning a light rain jacket. You can be left wallowing and sweating. Up go the sails.

Then when the next cloud looms the temptation not to bother can creep up. But the old adage holds true: ‘If you need to think about it, reef.’ The one time you don’t, you may really wish you had.

Reefing

Reducing sail is the first thing to consider, and doing it early really helps. On many contemporary masts, swept-back spreaders do not allow you to reef when deep downwind, and once the squall kicks in, the idea of coming up into the breeze and swell is not a pleasant one. If you’re brave enough to have a spinnaker up, take it down.

On Skyelark we usually run downwind with a poled-out headsail and it is usually sufficient to furl this away and sail deep downwind, keeping a slight angle to the swell and wind to be safe from a gybe. As long as the mainsail is adequately reefed for the prevailing conditions, the lack of headsail should easily compensate for the increase in wind speed.

If you get caught with the kite up or you are unable to reef and you have a proficient helm, it can often be best to stick with your current sail plan. Just be prepared to blow the kite completely (that is, let everything go, even the halyard) if it becomes too much. Unless you have a slick crew, dropping a spinnaker in a squall can be dangerous.

Go with the blow

Most squall damage tends to be caused by a big windshift which, if you’re not on the ball, can easily result in an unintentional gybe. This tends to be the cause of many a broken kicker (vang), gooseneck or boom. The two most important things are a preventer rigged properly to the end of the boom and led forward, preferably to the bow and back; and your helmsman or autopilot tuned into wind angle not compass course.

The windshifts can be dramatic and it is not uncommon to find yourself heading in entirely the wrong direction for a time, and in some cases even doing a 360°! It’s best not to be too concerned about this and stick with the wind; it won’t be long until it has passed and you’re back on track. Any time spent in gybing for the new wind angle will be wasted when the prevailing wind re-establishes after the squall, and your crew might not all appreciate being called on deck for manoeuvres in the rain.

Do’s and don’ts

√ Do reef early in preparation. If you have a spinnaker up, take it down

√ Do brief the crew on what to look for in a squall cloud and make it clear to wake the skipper if they are in any doubt

√ Do use radar to monitor the track of the squall

√ Do make the effort to don waterproofs – even in the tropics it can get chilly if you are soaked through

√ Do make sure lines and halyards are kept tidy so they are ready to run if you need to reef quickly

√ Do hand steer or set the autopilot to wind angle

x Don’t underestimate the force of wind that may be in the squall

ý Don’t leave it to the last minute to shorten sail

x Don’t Don’t fly the spinnaker at night if there have been squalls in the area.

Top tips

• We always have two people on watch, with both skipper and mate out of the watch system, so if things need to be done quickly there are four of us at the ready.
• After or before the squall there maybe a drop in wind and sometimes it’s better to motor through it.
• Be ready for a sudden change of wind direction. Have your best helmsman at the helm and the gybe preventer well secured.
• Make sure the crew know where the preventer is secured in case it needs to be released at night.
• As a general rule, if you see rain in a squall, assume there is going to be plenty of wind around it. The gust fronts will vary in strength, and the higher the clouds and the faster they are moving, the stronger the wind will be. You can get sudden initial gusts of gale force strength, which will come on suddenly though they are likely to die away fairly quickly as well.
• If you don’t see rain in the squall you can still get stronger gusts near the edges, but these usually don’t contain too much wind.
• If you are sailing under plain sails with a headsail set on a pole rigged with foreguy and afterguy, you have an advantage in squally conditions as the foresail can be quickly rolled away or reduced, leaving the pole in position.
• A snuffer is a great thing for long-distance sailing as a sail can be doused quickly and doesn’t need to be packed again in a bag, and it speeds up reducing sail ahead of a squall. Even so, going from spinnaker to poled-out headsail needs more crew and avoiding twists in the snuffer can take a bit of practice.
• Twin headsails is a sailplan that is not so fashionable these days, but some crews swear by it. One thought worth consideration is how easy this will be to reduce or roll away in a squall; without the blanketing effect of a mainsail it can be quite a handful in sudden, strong winds.
• The same goes for a spinnaker or Parasailor flown on its own without a mainsail.

Dan and Em Bower

Dan and Em Bower, both in their thirties, are lifelong sailors. Six years ago they bought Skyelark of London, a Skye 51 by American designer Rob Ladd, built in Taiwan in 1986, and have been sailing and chartering her ever since, making some 12 transatlantic crossings and covering around 60,000 miles.

Part 4: Sailing with a poled-out headsail

Essential guide to setting up a downwind sailing rig for stress-free cruising

See videos for all the parts here

12-part series in association with Pantaenius

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