Bill Springer's Boat Blog

The inside scoop on the new Jeanneau 64 (video)

2015-01-16T13:05:00.000-05:00

After touring the factory, seeing hull number 1 under construction, and writing the preview story that appeared in SAIL Magazine last year, I have to admit to being kinda sweet on the new Jeanneau 64.

As you can see in the following video, the boat has been a huge success since hull number 1 debuted last year. The innovative production line for this large yacht is humming away, and according to the folks at Jeanneau, the orders keep coming in.

And as I watched this new video above, I was pleasantly reminded of something I've learned about the very French-built 64 that most folks don't know. Turns out that Jeanneau's head of global product development, Erik Stromberg who was one of the driving forces behind the 64 project (pictured below in the green sweater explaining how a 64 is built), is smart and humble guy who's also an American expat. And that the boat almost didn't get built.

“I’d always worked in boatyards,” he said when I asked him about how he started at Jeanneau during my factory visit last year. “Then after college, I answered an ad in the Baltimore Sun posted by a boat company who was looking for customer service manager that also knew a little bit of French.”

That company was Jeanneau America based in Annapolis, Maryland. And it wasn’t long before Erik’s knowledge and feel for what works on boats designed for the US market (that can be quite different from what works European models), in addition to his working knowledge of French, made him uniquely suited to work on product development for all the Jeanneau’s bound for the US—in addition to meeting his customer service responsibilities.

“I worked with the guys in France,” he continues. “And, we realized that many of the things that worked [i.e. sold] in America, also worked in the rest of the world.” Eventually, he was traveling to France to consult on new designs several times a year.

“Then one day,” he says matter-of-factly, “they asked me if I’d like to do product development for them full time.” That was in 2005, and the rest, as they say, est l'histoire. He and his wife moved to France and have settled with their new baby in a charming little village about a 45 minute drive from the factory.

But it hasn’t always been easy. The recent global downturn affected every industry, not just boat building, and Jeanneau, even with its powerful position within Groupe Beneteau, had to make adjustments to weather the storm. But I think part of the satisfaction, and even he’d say, relief, that was palpable during my visit with Stromberg comes from the fact that he really appreciates and respects the talented people he works with.

He admits the 64 project was put on hold during the worst of the slump, but he’s also pretty happy to report that he and his team have been working for 2 ½ years to get the big, complicated boat he showed me in the factory being built, along with consistently refining and improving all the other new models Jeanneau launches every year.

“We had a feeling this boat would fit into a gap that we saw in the market nicely,” he says. “And the response has been fantastic. In fact it’s been so good, one of our biggest challenges in the coming year will be meeting the growing demand.”

I’m not surprised demand has been so strong, even before the first boat was built. These boats are going to make a statement where ever they go, and with a price tag in the 1.3-1.4 million dollar range, it’ll be very hard to find any other boat like it.

“I’m extremely busy,” Erik said before I left last year. “And since so many people’s jobs are riding on the success for our designs, there have been times when I’ve woken up in the middle of the night asking myself ‘what if we’re wrong?’ But then I come to work and see what we’re accomplishing with the 64. This is something special.”

Turns out he was underestimating how special the 64 would actually be.

Fight. Fight. Fight against the dying of the summer light.

2014-12-22T21:45:00.000-05:00

I don't think I've had as much fun sailing in all my life.

Maybe that's all there is to say. Maybe I'm simply some weird, tanned, pseudo-preppie who is descending into some weird world where all I'm really capable of doing is droning on about how fantastic it is to sail under sunny summer skies, on warm salty water, in a small flat boat, while wearing white sunglasses, and sporting several days of beard that's beginning to be speckled with some grey, and a crisp, white "Who Cares" visor.

But I've got to be honest, if experiencing short blasts of simple pleasure that only screaming around on Sunfish in a stiff breeze can produce is wrong, I don't want to be right. I mean look at these videos for cripes sake!

Part of the fun is the pure, childlike sensation of sailing a wet and "fast" (planing at least) boat where everything is reduced down to the most elemental of elements. Sheet. Tiller. Hike. And sometimes the malfunctioning bailer. That's about it. The better I get a coordinating those simple things, the wider the smile on my weathered face becomes.

But when I'm really honest with myself. The reason the sailing this summer has been so fun, and rewarding, and fulfilling, and down-right fantastic has much more to do with the real-live child in my life than acting like a child out on the water.

I simply and profoundly love the little Admiral standing in the cockpit of my beloved boat more than I ever thought possible. He's only 2 and already taught me more about what it means to be a man, and an adult, and responsible, and kind, and entertaining, and human, and alive, and grateful than I'd ever could have learned had he not been so kind to joining us for this trip around the wheel of life.

And what's really rocking my world, and pumping the gratitude meter up to 11 is that I've been given this gift of being able to raise this little one, and save myself in the process, by being guided by some pretty simple ideas: All kids (all people actually) need to know they're safe, and loved, and that they don't owe us anything. I know Sammy has come into this world as a fully formed soul and all I want to do is everything in my power to help him grow up to be the kind, well-adjusted, smart, funny, loving, irreverent, courageous, humble and authentic person he seems to be. And most of all, to be independent and trust himself and understand that despite much evidence to the contrary, the world and people are inherently good. And the more I'm able to do that for him, the more I begin to really let go and experience it for myself. Holy paradox Batman!

And if he likes to sail, and ski, an volunteer at homeless shelters, and surf, and work hard, and water ski, and climb mountains, and study physics, and travel to exotic places, well, that'd be cool too.

Awesome Island X

2014-12-12T03:30:00.000-05:00

I'd not been back to Antigua since I left in 1994. After graduating from college and spending three years skiing and surfing, I set off to see the world as a paid deck hand. My first gig was a delivery from subfreezing Newport, Rhode Island, to balmy English Harbour aboard a Swan 65. I had no money, nor a place to stay once we arrived, but how hard could it be, I thought, to find a job on one of those superyachts. I found out; it was hard. So as the months wore on and the little money I’d made on the delivery dried up, I was homeless in paradise, sleeping on the beach. After years of living hand-to-mouth, I was finally ready to return home and join the adult world. Antigua was my crossroads.

I wasn’t consciously avoiding a return to Antigua, but I wasn’t yearning to go back. Then I started thinking: Wouldn’t it be cool to explore the island with my fiancée, Caroline, from the comfort of a well-set-up charterboat? It was.

“Well-set-up” is an understatement. The Beneteau 473 Undaunted we chartered from Horizon Yacht Charters in Jolly Harbour, on Antigua’s west coast, was immaculate, and the service provided by Al and Jackie Ashford and the whole Horizon team was top notch. First stop—Falmouth Harbour, 12 or so miles down the south coast.

We nosed out of the slip and leaned into the wind bending around the southwest corner of the island—a wonderful reentry into the cruising life. We could have tacked our way up through Goat Head Channel between Middle Reef and the mainland, but the engine and autopilot were happy to keep us safe in deep water and heading effortlessly toward Falmouth. Since the annual, and very popular, Antigua Sailing Week was on, I wanted to claim some territory in what I expected to be a busy and crowded anchorage.

Falmouth and English Harbours are must-stop destinations for any Antigua-based charter. Falmouth, a big harbor with good holding, is both well protected from, and cooled by, the easterly trades. Services abound for visiting cruisers, and there are plenty of restaurants, bars, and Internet cafés.

Historic Nelson’s Dockyard in English Harbour is a 10-minute walk from the Falmouth dinghy dock and well worth a visit (you can walk, bring your boat into Freeman Bay and dinghy in, or try to find a space for stern-to mooring at the Dockyard quay). The buzz was electric by Caribbean standards. Every aspect of the Caribbean sailing life—crews in matching T-shirts hustling for provisions, well-tanned liveaboards spending a lazy day ashore, racers recounting the day’s competition, and plenty of visiting charterers, tourists off cruiseships, and locals make this place seem like the epicenter of the Caribbean sailing scene. In many ways it is. We spent a couple of days there while Caroline finished up some work within reach of an Internet connection and I revisited the scenes of my youth. The beach I had slept on had not changed, nor had (except in size and quantity) the big boats in the harbor, and the international crowd. But the road to Shirley Heights had been repaired, and marinas had been built. The buzz of English Harbour offered Caroline a window on my misspent youth, but after a couple of days we were ready for less buzz, more sailing, and a lot more solitude.

All we had to do was sail through the entire Race Week fleet first. As it happened, our departure put us in competition with over 200 racing boats rounding a leeward mark that could have doubled as our intended waypoint. We wound our way through the fleet, taking care not to mess with anyone’s line, and then it was just us. Wing and wing. Water gurgling in our wake. Cruising at last. To avoid bashing to windward along the southeastern side of the island, we retraced our path along Middle Reef, headed for Deep Bay. The biggest effort required was to flop the genoa over as we cleared Johnson Point and started reaching north. Deep Bay is a peaceful anchorage and was our staging point for an island north of Antigua we wanted to explore (I hesitate to mention its name for fear of enticing everyone to go there and spoil it).

We realized why Island X doesn’t get overrun with charterboats when we emerged from the relative protection of the reef that wraps around the northern side of Antigua. The trades were honking. The seas were building, spray was flying, and the boat was heeled well over. Caroline held on tight and flashed me a look that said “I thought this was going to be a peaceful sail. What have you gotten me into?” I’d reefed down nice and snug, the hills of Antigua quickly fell into the distance, and the boat performed beautifully; I assured her that this is the sailing people dream about and tried my best to look very much in control. That didn’t make the passage north any less exciting, especially because for about 18 of the 25 miles there is no land in sight. We wanted solitude, right? Needless to say, Caroline was the first to spot the low-lying island we were headed for.

Things calmed right down as we barreled into the protected waters of Island X’s western side. Our course brought us past a pristine pink-and-white sand beach that we paralleled for about an hour. Do the math. We sailed past this gorgeous undeveloped beach in flat water at 6 knots—6 miles of sheer bliss. There were a couple of cruising boats along the beach, but none were within 2 miles of us when the anchor went down and the dinghy was humming us in to shore.

The beach forms a narrow barrier between the open ocean and a large inland lagoon. The peace was palpable. Chris Doyle’s accurate and informative cruising guide promised that George Jefferies (who answers to Garden of Eden on VHF channel 16) would be available to take us on a tour of the island’s frigate-bird colony. Is this what the Garden of Eden looked like?

George picked us up on the lagoon side of what we were already calling “our beach” at 0900 the next morning. He took us across to the colony in the large mangrove forest where thousands of frigate birds live and raise their young and talked about the island like he was talking about his own family. Quite a contrast to the buzz of Antigua. He then brought us into Codrington, Barbuda’s only village, but not before he stopped the boat in the middle of the lagoon. “I want to check something,” he said. Then he threw a Danforth anchor off to the side (seemingly at random) and started hauling in a trap that was teeming with lobsters. How did he know where it was? There was no buoy, no marker of any kind on a monochromatic stretch of water. After spending the better part of the day with George, it was obvious to me that the island and its surrounding waters are simply part of his DNA.

After lunch in the village, where we were treated like friends, George brought us back to our dinghy. “Man, I like it here,” I said. All Caroline did was smile as she drove the dinghy back to our boat. Of course, after a hard day of visiting the Garden of Eden, we needed to recover with a little snorkel, a long walk on a beach without footprints, and a quiet time of watching the sunset.

We didn’t want to leave, but we wanted to see more of the island too. So the next morning, after George had dropped off some fresh lobster, we decided to head to a new anchorage about 15 miles southeast. It would be upwind for part of the way, but we’d be sailing in protected waters. When the next beach came into view, we had no trouble getting excited about parking for a few more days and exploring a new private paradise. There was nobody there, all the way to the horizon. I didn’t want to get my shorts salty, so I just took them off and jumped in the water to check the hook. It was like we’d sailed into a movie. The few buildings on the shore belonged to Coco Point Lodge, one of the Island's few hotels, but there was nobody in sight.

We spent a few more enchanted days here—dining on lobster in the cockpit, beach, soft sand, sun on the skin. But we knew there was still a rocking little passage back to Antigua waiting for us, and it was only when we could no longer put off leaving that the anchor finally came up and we pointed the boat back out into the open ocean. The trades had lessened a bit, and our angle back to Antigua was a little broader than it was on our trip over, so when Caroline flashed me a look of “Love” rather than “What have you gotten me into,” I knew we’d done good. Plus, we’ll be back in December. After several preemptive honeymoons, being engaged for over a year, and trying to figure out a wedding venue, we realized that this island is the only place for us to get married.

Superyacht Spotlight: Persak & Wurmfeld

2014-11-07T10:22:00.000-05:00

A radical, 144-foot schooner is just one of many of the fresh designs coming out of P & W's Brooklyn-based firm.

The yacht design and naval architecture office of Carl Persak and Jeremy Wurmfeld is close to the water, but not in a sleepy harbour town like Newport, Rhode Island, or Annapolis, Maryland, where you’d expect find an American yacht design firm. However, the trendy old warehouse building in the hip neighborhood where they work—in the shadow of New York City’s iconic Brooklyn Bridge—couldn’t be a more fitting headquarters for a small, nimble, and fresh-thinking design firm that’s challenging the superyacht status quo.

Persak (above right) and Wurmfeld (above left) sure didn’t start out to shake things up. In fact, they met as designers at Sparkman & Stephens, the quintessentially traditional yacht design firm that has literally designed and defined a specific “American Yachting” aesthetic for more than 75 years. Wurmfeld studied yacht design and eventually began work as a yacht designer at S & S after a stint as a yacht captain in the Eastern Caribbean, while Persak holds both engineering and yacht design degrees and had worked at several different design firms before joining the New York based firm.

Inevitably, they started sharing their own design ideas and philosophies almost as soon as they met, and it was only a matter of time before they struck out on their own. Wurmfeld left S & S to do his own thing first in 2004, while Persak started his own firm in 2006. They joined forces and started Persak & Wurmfeld in 2007.

The 281-foot M/V Cakewalk is one of many complex projects P & W have helped complete.

Engineering AND design
I may be stating the obvious here but, yacht design may be a somewhat romantic art, but it’s also a tough business. And Persak and Wurmfeld didn’t just waltz into a benefactor who was willing to fund their keel-up creative flights of fancy, especially when the global economy suffered, shall we say, a hiccup shortly after they opened for business.

However, the combination of design, engineering, and large project management acumen they bring to the table is always in demand, and they cut their teeth first by providing complex engineering project management on several, large scale, multi-year superyacht builds. As a result, P & W earned a reputation as the firm to call when you need to get large, and often over-budget and behind-schedule, builds back on-schedule, and across the finish line. That reputation and revenue from those multi-year projects eventually afforded them the freedom to sketch, brainstorm, and develop their own designs.

A diverse design portfolio

“Our love is really doing the whole process,” says Persak at his desk in their open office space. “Everything from design, to detailed shop drawings, 3D modeling, engineering and project management, to eventually getting the boat built and sailing. We go above and beyond the scope of conventional yacht design firms.” And that’s what they’ve been able to do with several of their designs. One of Wurmfeld’s first designs has also been one of the most consistently built. The e33 entered a crowded field of daysailers/one design racers in 2006, and its classic lines, comfortable cockpit, modern underbody, and peppy performance has always been well received. The design enjoys a steady and respectable production run but, they’d be the first to admit it hasn’t shaken the status quo.

The cool thing is these guys are game for anything, and they smiled when they told me they design what interests them as well as what interests their clients. And that they want to do something unique. It’s obvious when you look at the spectrum of their sailboat design portfolio that includes everything from a 25-foot, ultra-high performance trimaran, to a 44-foot performance cruising monohull, to a radical reimagining of what a large offshore cruising catamaran can be.

They’ve also designed an interesting range of edgy and angular motor yachts that top out in the stratosphere at nearly 300 feet long. But it’s their “Performance Schooner Series,” and P & W’s collaboration with the Derecktor Yard located not too far up the coast from NYC that really caught my attention.

Back to the schooner?

There aren’t too many 144-foot-long, flush-deck, uber-modern, ocean-going schooners with an adjustable draft torpedo keel on the world market these days. And there are absolutely zero uber-modern, ocean-going schooners that are designed and engineered to be built in the USA, except for the P & W-designed 144-foot schooner, and its smaller (119-foot), but no less aggressive, sistership that grabbed my attention.

“Why the schooner rig?” I ask.

“The flexibility of the sail plan in a broad spectrum of conditions is perfect for a modern super yacht,” Wurmfeld replies.

Makes perfect sense, even more so when you consider the fresh thinking in the overall design. You could say its slab sided hull and flush deck may have been inspired by Wally Yachts and other modern European statement makers, but to my eye, the distinctive “swoop” of the single line sweeping back from the bowsprit to the wide-open stern, and the large, single square hull port is a refreshing, and uniquely American improvisation on Luca Brenta’s masterstrokes. Wurmfeld describes the deck as “forming a single wave that grows from the transom, crests over the raised salon, and slopes gently towards the bow,” but no matter what we say, the distinctive hull and powerful schooner rig they’ve designed meld together to cut a striking profile that will turn heads in Monaco as well as Miami.

These schooners should also be as fast as they look. They’re designed to have relatively light weight aluminum hulls, the decks and rigs are to be built of carbon fiber, and the 144-footer will be able to carry nearly 1,000 square meters of upwind sail area, and many, many more in the large A-sail that tacks on to the long fixed bowsprit. The specs also feature highly engineered keels that can put tons of ballast deep below the waterline while under sail, and retract to more civilized, harbour-friendly depths when it’s time to attract attention at the dock.

Made in the USA

A design of the size and scope of this P & Ws Schooner Series isn’t all that remarkable for European superyacht powerhouses like Royal Huisman, Pendennis, Perini Navi, or others, but it represents a big bet on big American boatbuilding in general. “We believe in what we are doing,” says Wurmfeld. “It just seems crazy to us that there haven’t been many big boats built in the states recently, and we want to change that.”
The partnership with the Derecktor’s makes perfect sense. The uniquely American yard has been building yachts—from past America’s Cup winners to large sailing and power boats—at their Mamaroneck, New York location for over 65 years. The yard is a short drive from P&W’s Brooklyn office, and most importantly, the power of their collaboration has already been proven when P & W worked as project engineers to help Derecktor complete one of the largest (281 feet), and most complex powerboat builds ever to be launched in the States back in 2010. But Wurmfeld is also quick to point out they believe in the future of all American custom boat builders including Hinckley, Lyman Morse Boatbuilding, Co., Hodgdon Yachts, and others.

“We see what we’re doing as an American story,” Wurmfeld adds as our meeting winds down. “Actually, a New York story,” he adds. “I mean here we are. New York City. A pretty important city on the global economic stage, with no shortage of people who’d love to build large and distinctive yacht here if they could. Well they can, and we’d like to think they will.”

Log on to www.persakwurmfeld.com for more information.

Test sail: Jeanneau 349

2014-11-04T21:25:00.001-05:00

Annapolis is a great place for a boat show. I mean the town is uber historic, and charming, and quaint...but....after many, many years as a boat tester and judge for both SAIL and Cruising World magazines, I can also attest to the fact that post-boat show boat tests in October often lack one of the most important ingredients one needs to conduct a proper boat test--WIND.

However....this was one of those special years where the wind blew in the high teens to lower twenties--perfect for my test of the new Jeanneau 349.

Let's go sailing!

Breeze On

You can learn a lot about how a boat performs in light wind, but nothing can tell you more about boat than test sailing in the 20-knot breeze we had out on the Chesapeake last month. And after effortlessly tucking in the first reef, myself and Paul Fenn from Jeanneau (who you see comfortably tucked in behind one of the dual helms in the wide and easy-to-access cockpit above) enjoyed a smile-inducing test sail that delivered just the right combination of speed, stability, comfort that had me saying to myself "This is pretty darn good for a 34-footer."

The excellent performance we experienced can be attributed to many things including: the hard chine aft, highly efficient under water profile, and even proper sail trim, but what I really appreciated about the 349 was the absolute lack of weather helm in spite of the fact that we sailed some pretty tight angles upwind--in well over 25 knots of apparent wind.

And that's what you get when you have dual rudders. Sure there may be a tad more wetted surface on a dual rudder boat, but that's a small price to pay for the utterly superior control (and piece of mind) that's possible once when you heel over and the leeward rudder is situated for maximum control.

And the dual helms are set up perfectly for both sailing and comfort. Visibility is excellent from each helm seat. Both the double-ended main and jib sheets can easily be controlled single handed, and the teak foot wedges (pictured on the sole above) provide the ideal brace points for upwind work. Meanwhile, the lack of backstay and easily retractable swim platform make it super easy to enter the boat through the stern while at the dock or on the hook.

See what I mean. That's a sweet swim platform, on a wide-open transom, with a nice recessed swim ladder, that can easily be pulled up to secure the cockpit on offshore passages when you'd feel a bit exposed with a wide-open transom.

The short bow sprit was another feature I liked on the 349. We unfortunately left the Code 0 on the dock for our test sail, but it'd have been easy to set on this sprit. Clever bow roller set up also shows this boat is a true "performance cruiser."

Bigger than you think

I love this shot because it really gives you an idea of how open and airy the accommodations plan is. It's got two long seats. High seat backs. A big table. A good-sized nav station. And tons of light made possible by copious hull ports and opening deck hatches. This shot also shows how simply making the doorway into the forward cabin a bit wider can change the whole feeling of the accommodations plan. There's a lot there for a 34-footer, no?

The galley is great too. It has a two burner stove, modern fixtures, and more than enough stowage and counter space to keep a cruising crew fed and happy.

This shows how big the forward cabin is. Sure it's "all bunk" up there, but it also has a large hanging locker, great reading lights, and a large opening hatch for excellent ventilation.

Conclusion
This is alotta boat for the money. It's stylish, and sexy, and sporty while also being stable, and safe and secure--not such an easy feat. And call me crazy, but I'm guessing the judges who vote on Cruising World's Boats of the Year, and SAIL's Best Boats might just agree this year too.

And what'd I say about Annapolis being cool and quaint? Check out this riggers van I came across after we tied the 349 up for the night in the marina directly across from Ego Alley. Don't really know what to say except...chapeau!

What's Offshore Sailing Really Like?

2014-11-04T09:30:00.000-05:00

I'm one of the lucky ones that gets to sail off over the horizon every once in a while, and my latest trip had me leaving Hampton, VA, aboard Anne and Miles Poor's Tayana 55 Karina about an hour after I arrived at the marina from the airport. I shot this picture with my iPhone after leaving the Chesapeake and settling into the rhythm of the trip.

Since we were still in cell phone range, I started texting and facebooking all people I love and including the photo above. Kinda cool knowing that you're going to be way off the grid for about 7 days, but also to have several hours to do nothing but motorsail (the winds were light), and reach out to the people in your life that you want to have enough time for. The txts, and facebook messages, tweets that accompanied the photo and my "We're headed to the Caribbean through the Bermuda Triangle!" tag line were just wonderful.

I could go on and on about what it means to sail away from land for a while but that's juicy fodder for another blog post. For now I'm just gonna stick to what it's like, and I'm finding that video is, um.... news flash..... a pretty cool way to show you exactly what it's like, sort of. So please stop reading this post, watch the video above, and then please return to reading the written words and gazing at the still photos that you'll find in the rest of this post.................

So, now you know what sailing at 10 knots, under sunny skies, with dolphins frolicking at the bow, and steaks and fresh caught fish cooking on the bar-b-q, and what a glorious sunrise as you make landfall at a Caribbean port after 7 days as sea looks like. But there really is more to the story. Like in the photo above. That's really what sailing offshore looks like, at least sometimes. There's nothing but the flat line of the horizon for as far as the eye can see. For miles, and miles, and miles. How would you feel if everything you know and love was left somewhere in your wake and all you have is........the flat line of the horizon for as far as you can see? It's actually a pretty neat thing to experience.

It's also pretty wild to look off the stern (that's the back of the boat to you non-sailors out there) at 2 am on a stormy, pitch black night and realize "I'd die if I fell overboard right now. The boat would just sail away and I'd never be seen again......ummmmm.....better clip in."

I shot this photo when we were about 600 miles from the nearest coast. We'd crossed, and been tossed around by, the Gulf Stream, and were in the full offshore groove--sail, sleep, shower, eat, repeat. I even had time to sit in the shade of the jib on the foredeck and meditate. You know those white noise machines that have "ocean" or "waves" settings? Picture experiencing the real thing on a 55-foot long, 80,000 pound boat surging down the actual waves that are making "white noise" towards a tropical destination. Now picture having the time to just sit and actually experience (physically and mentally) what that sounds, smells, and feels like. Did you know salt air has a texture to it.

Here we are. The crew of the mighty Karina.

I've done tons of offshore trips with people I didn't know before I showed up on the dock with my sea boots. As a result I've met all kinds of people in what is actually a pretty intimate way. Sailing and living in cramped quarters, being sweaty, hot, cold, sick, uncomfortable, and even happy on a boat offshore is a wonderfully unique experience.

I've seen tough guy CEO/owners go all mushy in the face of offshore adversity, and I've see more than a few big-talking sailors actually get a little weak in the knees when things get rough, and I've seen tons of "little guys" just get it done too. But I felt like the Sea Gods were smiling down on me during this trip. Boy did our crew hit it off! Matt (in the blue shirt) is Ex-coast Guard and one of the nicest and most competent sailors I've ever met. Anne is a good, funny, and unflappable mom who's a crack navigator and crisp conversationalist. And then there's my man Miles over there with his white sunglasses. I knew I'd picked the right boat and the right captain when Miles bounded up the companionway when I arrived in Hampton wearing a dope pair of white Oakley's that seemed rather familiar to yours truly.

Don't we look like a happy bunch? We were. That photo was taken during our little dolphin interlude and the joy was palpable. When was the last time you felt joy? Hopefully it wasn't too long ago. And if it was, I hope this is a little reminder that it's possible, and you don't have to be on the bow of a boat to find it either.

This was the tropical seascape that greeted us after 7 days of infinite horizon in all directions. We couldn't have timed it any better. The air was....soft. The sky was......soft. The seas in the Drake Channel were......pancake flat. And we all had visions of the pancake breakfast we were going to eat on land as soon as we arrived. There really is no better way to enter a foreign country than by sailing there under your own power.

Almost there. Nanny Cay, Tortola, BVI at about 0700. And while sometimes it's nice to have time to settle in to a new place, I was already working the Internet to see if I could change my ticket so I could get home day early to my beautiful wife and my wicked cute baby boy. That's another benefit of offshore cruising. Having the unfettered time offshore to reflect on all the good things you've left behind makes it that much more special when you first make landfall and then punch your ticket home.

So, after working the airlines to make the early return that happen on a holiday weekend, I found myself in the an exit row on a Jet Blue flight from San Juan to Boston. Now who walks down the aisle and the proceeds to sit right next to me in their assigned seats but my step-cousin (his aunt married my dad) and his wife. I know? Small world right? Totally cool coincidence. They were coming back from sailing in the BVI too, but that's more rich fodder for a future post.

And then......... who decides to surprise me at the airport (as opposed to just picking me up in the car as usual) but the Honey Bunny (in the white vest) and my Lil' bald man (in his white onezie).

I sure do love riding the automatic sidewalk with Mr. Splishy. It's an adventure of gummy smiles.

Seychelles: Islands That Know No Fear

2014-10-20T10:35:00.000-04:00

Warm, sweet air washed over us like aromatherapy. After 30-some hours of flying from Boston to Mahé Island off the east coast of Africa, Caroline and I were finally in the Seychelles. Our Moorings 44.3 charterboat was only a five-minute cab ride away. Alleluia.

This was the official start of our honeymoon. Still somewhat deranged from the long journey, we shopped in the wonderfully tiny and disorienting capital “city” of Victoria, just up the road from the charter base, to augment the provisions we’d ordered from The Moorings. It didn’t take long to walk off the airplane-seat cramps, acquire a selection of fresh fish and vegetables at the outdoor market, and take off from the marina. Our first goal was to sleep finally sleep—swinging at anchor off nearby Ste. Anne Island. All we remember about that first night, before passing out, exhausted from the travel, is the starlight, the silhouettes of palm trees against a backdrop of Ste. Anne’s granite cliffs, and the gentle swaying of the boat at anchor. We didn’t wake up until the hot equatorial sun sizzled into our bunk— and the local authorities pulled alongside to collect their fee. It’s a routine we came to know well. What keeps the cruising grounds in the Seychelles stunningly pristine is the fact that many of the islands and anchorages lie within protected national parks. Cruisers pay a visitor fee (US$15 per day) to anchor in the park—a small price to pay to sail in an area that’s not littered with anything except natural beauty.

With our fee paid and the morning coffee just kicking in, we soon had water burbling in our wake; the mountains of Mahé faded into the distance as the more-remote islands, about 20 miles to the northeast, came into view. The prevailing winds in the Seychelles come from the northwest in the winter and the southeast in the summer. Pretty easy. There are winter and summer anchorages, and the northerly winds we experienced last December were light. That was just fine with us. Here we were, plopped down close to the equator on a comfortable boat on the Indian Ocean, and we were anxious to wind down from the manic pace of getting married and then traveling 14,000 miles. Ghosting along, slowly ticking off the miles between Mahé and the islands of Praslin and La Digue, was better than a spa treatment. We slipped easily between them and took a left to the small island of Curieuse, which promised a peaceful anchorage and lots of land-based natural goodness. We didn’t even need to mess with the anchor. There was an empty mooring, obviously waiting for us, as we nosed in and admired the classic scene: a white-sand beach rimmed with palm trees and granite boulders punctuating the shore.

Two nights of well-earned sleep, a day of lazy sailing over from Mahé, and multiple snorkel explorations had done wonders. We were ready for the friendly guys who came to come collect our park fee and soon took to the dinghy. As we approached the beach, one of those big black rocks scattered among the palm trunks started moving—slowly. Curieuse is a sanctuary for giant tortoises. We paid a park guide to show us the tortoise nursery (baby tortoises are cute) and introduce us to the docile adult giants that roam free on the island. Later, happening upon tortoises that weigh well over 1,000 pounds and live to be over 175 years old as we explored the island’s trails made us feel like guests in a Darwinian fantasy world. And this was only the beginning. Back on the boat, the heat of the day was intense; we were easily enticed into water of perfect clarity and temperature.

After several days of solitude on Curieuse, we sailed five easy miles to Praslin’s Baie Ste. Anne so we could replenish our stores. We were greeted with open arms before we’d even entered the harbor. Local fisherman and chief welcomer Robert and his son were smiling and waving wildly to us from their dinghy, pointing toward the mooring ball we should take. We were told about Robert during our chart briefing at the base, and there he was, happily eager to help in the accented English of a native French speaker. “I’ll be back with some fresh fish,” he said. He brought some homemade charcoal, too, and his fee was embarrassingly reasonable.

Normally I’m skeptical about touristy things, but Praslin and Curieuse are the only places in the world where the coco de mer tree, whose fruit contains the largest seed in the world, is endemic. The Valle de Mai impacted me in ways I really wasn’t expecting. These remarkable giant coconuts weigh upward of 30 pounds. As we walked around the lush forest, spotting giant palm spiders, screeching birds, and towering palm trees, we were grateful that it’s still possible to experience something so rare and beautiful in its natural environment. The coco de mer has a reputation as an aphrodisiac, and I can attest that we definitely felt the fertility of the place. Robert’s last gift to us as we were leaving Praslin was a homemade fishing rig (a fishing line and a lure wrapped around a discarded plastic spindle). The lure was skimming along behind our boat as soon as we left the harbor. Eager to sail off some of the heat of the island, we circumnavigated La Digue before eventually pulling into its man-made harbor.

Our sails were pulling comfortably and the sun was red in the west when the line went taut. We caught the first of several fish, a bonito, which sensibly jumped out of my hands as we shot the requisite photo. We tied up stern-to in the harbor. Rental bikes opened up the entire island for us, and several white-tablecloth restaurants gave us honeymooners a break from the daily chores of cooking and cleaning up in anchorages without many cruiser amenities. The bikes gave us a view of this island community that, with its small, quaint houses and a few churches spread out along narrow, winding roads, was reminiscent of the tiny island communities we’d sailed to in Maine—but, yes, a bit more exotic.

La Digue is known for its stunning beaches, so we spent a few days soaking up the rays, the water, the funky vibe, and the restaurant service before we were ready to return to natural wonders. Our time on the boat was winding down, and we’d been advised to visit the Coco Islands for the “best snorkeling in the Seychelles” and the world-renowned bird sanctuary on Cousin Island. Both destinations are a short hop from Curieuse’s little overnight anchorage. Snorkeling around the Cocos was as good as advertised. We swam with school upon school of colorful fish, but the highlight for me was encountering a manta ray in the deeper water where we’d anchored.

The gratitude meter kicked in strongly as I swam (for a moment) with such a large and graceful being in the wild. We felt almost at home returning to Curieuse to spend the night, and we had time to explore the beach on the northern side of the anchorage before we settled in for teatime. So we beached the dinghy, walked 10 steps to a particularly inviting stretch of sand to lay out our towels, and encountered a curious set of tracks leading up from the water’s edge. Both green and hawksbill turtles build nests for their eggs on beaches in the Seychelles, and as I slowly followed the tracks up into the vegetation near the beach, I found a momma sea turtle laying her eggs. How cool is that? Careful not to disturb her, I kept my distance, but the beauty of seeing a sea turtle laying her eggs as we sunned ourselves on a gloriously empty beach just blew us away.

I don’t know if this was a hint to us newlyweds, but we did feel the Garden of Eden groove intensifying. And that was before we stopped at the bird sanctuary on Cousin. The island is open to visitors only during specific times, and you must ride in the park-service skiff if you want a tour; there’s no dock at the beach. The launch driver timed his run into the beach so he had enough speed through the sizable rollers to propel the entire flat-bottomed skiff above the waterline. Our landing was exciting, and the island was unlike any other place we’d been. This sanctuary is not only for birds, but for all the wildlife on the island. Our tour guide was a young researcher with an encyclopedic knowledge of the birds and reptiles that live there, and his love for this special island was infectious. He led us along the path around the island, through a dense canopy of vegetation, and pointed out dozens of exotic birds. There were giant tortoises, and sea turtle nests, and rare plants, and spiders, and skinks, and…

But what really brought a smile to our faces was finally being able to put the feelings Caroline and I had about cruising in the Seychelles into words. It happened when we ran into a group of white birds perched in tree trunks and simply sitting on the ground watching us walk by. The birds were curious and made no attempt to fly when I approached. Our guide told me it was okay to get up close (but not too close) if I wanted to take a picture. “They have no enemies on the island. No predators,” he said. “They were born here and have never learned to fear.” So that’s what sets the Seychelles apart. It’s not the weather, or the water, or the exotic islands, or the friendly locals, or the easy sailing.

These are the Islands That Don’t Know Fear.

SHOWTIME (part 5): Inflatable awesomeness?

2014-10-09T07:40:00.000-04:00

I saw this cool little inflatable craft down at the Newport boat show last month, and I'm hoping to give it a test drive after the Annapolis show sometime next week. As you can see, it's called the Tiwal, and if you haven't guessed already, it's French. And as you can see its a pretty ingenious design.

As with all inflatable things, portability is the goal. And as the happy owner of a ULI inflatable Stand Up Paddleboard, I can report that the ability to throw an 11-foot "board" into a 3 X 3 foot bag in the back of our car is a pretty cool thing. And the fact that the ULI is a serious board and can be pumped up to be nearly rock hard is the key to it actually being fun to use.
So, I stopped in my tracks when I saw the Tiwal. And after going over the clever way these guys seem to have been able to make an inflatable boat that can be stiff enough to actually be fun to use.

The way the mast step, daggarboard trunk, and the rudder frame work with the inflatable hull is pretty cool. And as you can see in the photos above, it all fits into two decent-sized bags when it comes time to take your sailing show on the road.

Be sure to check back to see how it sails. And since the show is literally about to start, stay tuned for regular updates on my Twitter, Facebook, and Instagram feeds too.

SHOWTIME (Part 4): Gunboat

2014-10-05T21:29:00.001-04:00

As you already know, the two badass fast Gunboats that will be on display at the United States Sailboat Show in Annapolis starting on Thursday have already made an appearance at the Newport Boat Show in September.

Gunboat

And you smart people know that I've already done a preliminary report on this Fall's Gunboat action, but, here's the thing. That was just the preliminary-preview-to-post-test-sail-boat-report(s).

You see, I've hatched an "evil" plan to jump aboard the 55, and sail at speeds that I'm sure will be faster than I've ever sailed, cruise at speeds I've never cruised, and do a somewhat longish passage (with hopefully the blessing of the the kind owner and the folks at Gunboat), so I can then record every minute of the experience and then deliver a detailed multi-media extravaganza report for those special few who are thinking of stepping into the rarefied world of wicked, wicked fast world cruising and just as importantly, all you the mere mortals (like me) who long to sail on something as unique and drag racer fast and.....comfortable as the Gunboat 55 is reported to be.

You'd tune in to read and watch a report like that, right?

Yea, me too.

And as we've already discussed in part 1 of this "Showtime" series, now is a very good time to be in the market for a boat like this.

So here's some more "boat porn" from Gunboat to get you going before the show.

The open interior of the new Gunboat 55 is a very different approach than previous Gunboats.

But the badassness of the 55's design (pictured above) however, is not new to the company. Peter Johnstone and company have been doing badass pretty well now for a while as you can see in the shots of the 60 pictured below.

Umm, can you say...these boat are unlike anything else out there?

In fact, another part of my "evil plan" is to do a longer profile on company founder Peter Johnstone, so watch this space for that too. Trust me Peter is an interesting guy and if you don't know his story, you'll be amazed at what he's done. And just so we're all on the same page--spoiler alert--he's related to the JBoats Johnstone's but he's not involved with the company.

So, let's hear it. who's coming to Annapolis to check out the 55 and the 60?

And what's even cooler is that they're made in the USA.

And I haven't even begin to talk about the G4 that's in the works? Is this what the future looks like?

Be sure to check back later for the next installment of "Showtime." And stay tuned for regular updates from the show on Twitter, and on Facebook, and Instagram too.

SHOWTIME (Part 3): C&C Yachts

2014-10-03T11:06:00.003-04:00

So far, we've covered all that's new and improved and will be debuting at the US Sailboat Show in Annapolis next week from Jeanneau and Morris Yachts.

So, here's the next installment of SHOWTIME that previews some of the new models that I'm excited to see in Annapolis and hopefully test sail after the show. And I know I'm not the only one who's excited to see the sexy new C&C 30 one-design racer from the completely revamped C&C Yachts.

C&C Yachts

The new C&C 30 One Design looks like an absolute weapon off the wind.

The photo below shows it's no slouch upwind either. And according to advanced reports, it's designed to be way more than just an around-the-buoys racer. It's built strong, tough, and water-tight to excel on longer offshore races too.

And as you can see in the video clip below, it sails like a weapon too.

The Redline 41 racer-cruiser from C&C looks pretty badazz too.

Okay, that's all for now.

Be sure to check back later for the next installment of "Showtime." And stay tuned for regular updates from the show on Twitter, and on Facebook, and Instagram too.

SHOWTIME (part 2): Morris Yachts

2014-10-02T09:25:00.002-04:00

With the debut of the 48GT at the Annapolis sailboat show this year, Morris Yachts returns to building offshore boats that are as fast and capable as they are beautiful.

As you know, I'm excited to report that there is an exciting list of new and improved and exciting models that will be making a grand entrance at the United States Sailboat Show in Annapolis next week.

And as we discussed in part 1 of this "Showtime" series, now is a very good time to be in the market for a new boat. So here's another sneak peek of a few more new models that I'm excited to see in Annapolis and hopefully test sail after the show.

Morris Yachts

Being from New England means I'm genetically predisposed to go all starry-eyed over the fine Maine craftsmanship, and exquisite lines, and stunning sailing performance that have come to be synonymous with Morris Yachts. Well you know what, that's exactly what happens.

We all know Maine-based Morris Yachts build some of the finest boats around, but what I'm really excited to see is that the company seems to be as rejuvenated as I am both about the joy of sailing as well as returning to its roots as the go-to American builder of fast, stylish, and awesomely seaworthy/ocean crossing/world girdling yachts. It's great to see the company getting back in the serious offshore cruiser game with the launch of the new 48GT (pictured above).

And what can you say about the new X-Types from Morris? I mean come on. Who wouldn't want a boat with the drop-dead good looks of their wildly popular M series yachts that may look all gentlemanly but is, in fact, as fast a Ferrari with carbon fiber-fueled horsepower to burn.

The super-charged M29 X-Type with a carbon sprit, carbon rig, deep keel and many other go fast features is pictured above. The cool thing is all the M Series boats are now available in the ultra-sexy speed version just like you can get an AMG Mercedes Benz.

Be sure to check back later for the next installment of "Showtime." And stay tuned for regular updates from the show on Twitter, and on Facebook, and Instagram too.

SHOWTIME: Annapolis boat show that is (part 1)

2014-09-25T13:16:00.001-04:00

Anyone who experienced the excitement of Magic Johnson's (and Pat Riley's) Lakers and Larry Bird's Celtics in the 1980's, (note: my beloved Celtics during the dark and glorious high school days) knows what SHOWTIME was all about.

And while it may be a bit of a stretch to compare the United States Sailboat Show coming up in Annapolis from October 9-13 to the epic games those iconic teams played, I can't deny the fact that after all these years (19 to be exact) that I've been kicking off the Fall Season by reporting on the newest and most time-tested models that the US boat industry has to offer, the excitement and anticipation I still feel before the Annapolis Boat Show is just a little bit like the pre-game excitement I felt way back then.

Maybe this is partly because I don't think I've ever had more fun sailing--in places as far off as Sweden, Estonia, and St. Petersburg, Russia, and as down-home, apple-pie-preppie as Hyannis Port, Massachusetts--than I've had this year. And this refreshing excitement is also due to the fact that the fleet of new boats that will be at this year's show will simply (and actually)....be exciting.

Sure there are tons of boat shows these days. And they all have something to offer. But the Annapolis boat show has been undisputed biggest and most important show on the American calendar for decades. It's more than just a "trade show." It's an event. It's a happening. And it's always worth the trip no matter if you're travelling from Washington DC or Washington State.

And this year is no different. Actually it may be even be more important as the big, lumbering ship that is the American economy has definitely turned back from the brink (at least for the time being anyway), and the boat builders that have survived are leaner, smarter, and better, and hungrier, and turning out better, more modern, more affordable boats than ever before. Needless to say it's a good time to be in the market for a new boat. And here's the first of several stories about what I'm excited to see in Annapolis and hopefully test sail after the show.

Jeanneau Yachts

Of course Jeanneau Yachts is going to be pulling out all the stops this year with boats of all sizes--ranging from big and comfortable to bigger and comfortableer--in the show.

Early reports are that Jeanneau will display 12 boats this year (although we'll have to wait until next year to see the huge, and already hugely successful Jeanneau 64 here in the States).

But the Jeanneau's I'm really excited to see (and test sail) are the smaller ones like the sexy-fast Sunfast 3600 pictured above.

The 349 looks pretty sweet too. I hope to test both the 349 and 3600 after the show and do a longer-term test on the 3600 (like in a distance race or two) in the coming months.

Check back later for more on what will be in Annapolis. And be sure to stay tuned for regular updates from the show on Twitter, and on Facebook, and Instagram too.

Newport News: Sneak peek at the Gunboat 55

2014-09-15T11:48:00.000-04:00

Some have called me the master of the obvious but, I'm going to say it anyway.....there's just nothing like a Gunboat. Period.

But, you may not know that the new Gunboat 55 I recently toured with company founder/visionary Peter Johnstone at the Newport Boat Show is not just unlike any other boat...it's unlike any other Gunboat. And yes, forgive me if I restate the obvious, but, for those of you that may not know, Johnstone's all-carbon/ultra-sexy/badass-fast Gunboats have been redefining the meaning of "performance cruising catamaran" for years now.

I mean look at the entry on starboard bow for cripes sake. Have you ever seen a finer entry on any boat--not to mention a 55-footer that's capable of crossing oceans with blistering alacrity? You could cut a tomato on that thing! It doesn't just pierce the waves. It slices through them like a sushi knife in the hands of a master.

But all you smart and knowledgeable people know that bows with ultra-sharp entries are nothing new to Gunboats either. Meanwhile, the photo above shows where the revolution (not just evolution, but revolution) is happening on the 55. As you see, all the controls--the nerve center of the boat--are located here. And what's so cool about this--the winch pit that's essentially the same as what you'd find on a TP52--is that unlike previous designs, the 55's winch pit is inside, completely protected from the elements just in front of the helm station. But Peter is actually much better at explaining this new boat and new direction than I am. He took some time to talk to me at the show.

So, the winch pit has moved inside while the whole interior layout has accomplished the very difficult task of providing fantastic protection from the wind and spray while at the same time, as Peter says, being "a true indoor-outdoor boat."

This photo only begins to illustrate the space and the airiness of this new design but it does give you some idea of where Gunboat is headed. You'll see that instead being enclosed in a rigid structure, the back side of the enormous bridgedeck saloon can be easily closed up in bad weather, and just as importantly, fully opened up in good weather. Can you just picture how awesome it'd be to be watching the 55's rooster tail on the ultra-comfy couches with the stern area open as you blast along at 20 knots? Or maybe sipping sun downers in the Med or the Caribbean? I can.

And Peter makes a lot of sense when he talks about airplanes and cars that were all controlled from "outside" steering stations at one time. Check it out in action.

And be sure to chack back soon for more info and hopefully a first hand account of what it's like to sail this bad boy.

World ARC veteran shares valuable insights after over 53,000 offshore miles

2014-09-02T21:13:00.000-04:00

The "secret weapon"

I'm still buzzing about my recent participation in the inaugural ARC Baltic that brought me to fascinating/exotic/historic cruising destinations in Sweden, Estonia, and St. Petersburg, Russia during the bright, bright nights of a high-latitude summer.

But as the days get shorter, I'm even more grateful for the people I met--like Hans Hansell. He not only played an integral part in planning, and the successful execution of the inaugural ARC Baltic (his Jeanneau Sun Odyssey 49 was also the "lead boat" for the rally), but he's also a highly experienced world cruiser who completed a circumnavigation aboard his boat Workin' on a Dream as part of the World ARC in 2013. And he was kind enough to answer my questions--about the World ARC and his boat--and share all of the photos below as well.

The start of the World ARC in St. Lucia

Hans grew up in Sweden sailing on the Baltic, but he was soon sailing over the horizon to destinations on the North Sea, the English Channel and the Bay of Biscay. And when his professional career as a trade expert took him to the United Nations and Geneva he cruised the western Mediterranean for 15 years.

But when Hans retired from the the UN, he and his daughter Hanna decided to circumnavigate as part of the 2012-13 World ARC.

Big seas in the Pacific.

Hans appreciated all the preparations for the World ARC including all the seminars organized by the World Cruising Club. And he invested in both satellite communication (Iridium) and SSB in order to ensure access to weather information (GRIB files and weather charts) as well as almost daily emails to family at home.

The Needles.

He'd never sailed the distances that some of the passages between destinations required in the World ARC, but he'd sailed and raced since childhood and found his racing experience was excellent prep for long-distance cruising. Precise sail trim comes automatically to him and it really made a difference in his the daily runs.

The Sun Odyssey 49 was well-suited to an around-the-world trip.

"Trade wind sailing was a new to us," he says. "But we quickly learned how to set the boat up. We poled the out the jib and kept it in place with down haul and a spinnaker sheet that's run through the end of the pole to minimize chafing. This allowed us to adjust the jib sail area as necessary with he furler without needing to touch the pole and proved to be an excellent solution in heavy weather."

Hanna in the Galapagos.

"We enjoyed the friendly competition on the World ARC and our secret weapon was a small and heavy conventional spinnaker that we carried even in very fresh conditions. It gave us excellent daily runs with speeds exceeding the theoretical hull speed."

The not-so-secret weapon

"I prefer the traditional spinnaker to asymmetric sails in that it is more effective in angles above than 135 degrees even if it is little more work to set it up. One of the main advantages of the Sun Odyssey 49 is that she has an excellent performance and, in particular, in heavy down wind conditions she is very stable and has no tendency for broaching. So we exploited this advantage and let the heavy spinnaker stay up even through some squalls thus making good daily runs."

"I choose the Jeanneau Sun Odyssey 49 for its sailing characteristics as well as it's overall lay out. The cockpit is excellent for sailing and it is nice and roomy for social occasions. However, I slept on the saloon settee, using a lee cloth, at sea because the fore cabin with its island berth (as with most modern yachts) isn't comfortable at sea."

Hans at the helm.

"My boat is built the traditional way with beams and stringers, which I am very happy about. She always felt solid. And after our return I have been all over the boat to check for any fatigue or stress cracks and I've not found that any leakage from hull or deck!

"The rig and the rigging has been fine, however, I had to repair the gooseneck several times. I also had to replace the original furler.

St Helena's famous steps

"My Hydra Net (Dynema woven into Dacron) main has worked very well and is still going strong while the jib finally needs to be replaced after over 40,000 nautical miles of hard use!"

Hans can attest to the fact that Philip Briand has designed very good looking boat that is a nice performance cruiser. "I am very happy with the boat" he says. And he ends quite mater-of-factly by saying, "The boat has now covered more than covered 53,000 nautical miles without any problems."

There's really no better praise than that.

News Flash: Sailing with a 6-month-old in the BVI is the bomb!

2014-08-29T21:06:00.000-04:00

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!

Many of the important events Caroline and I have shared invariably occur on a sailboat. Our first date involved a nearly-blind, navigation electronics-less cruise through black bean-soup fog. I was terrified (but apparently hid it well), and she was somehow smitten with my dead reckoning. Later, my persistent, puppy-dog wooing involved numerous harbor cruises, overnighters, and week-long charters.

Hi Mom!

We celebrated our extended engagement on a bareboat in the Caribbean, honeymooned aboard another in the Seychelles, and even cruised from Grenada to St. Lucia when Caroline was full-on, morning sick pregnant. So logically, I started plotting our first “family” Christmas charter in the British Virgin Islands almost as soon as our little baby boy arrived last July. “It’ll be the ultimate adventure,” I said to Caroline with a smile as I wiped the spit-up from my shoulder. “And it’ll be easy since we’ve been there before.”

Hey Mom, I love the ocean!

Getting there

Naively, I really wasn’t too worried about how we’d do on the boat, but I was worried about flying with a six-month old, and our incredibly large pile of baby stuff (cribs, seats, toys, strollers, etc.) from our home in Boston down to the MarineMax charter base in Tortola, BVI. But as we learned almost immediately, you encounter a certain warmness when you fly with a baby that doesn’t cry too much. Our extremely cute, extremely bald little distraction seemed to soften the moods of all of our fellow high-season travellers—even Glen Close the actress.

Hi Ladies!

The little one actually dropped his pacifier and drooled on her as we paced the aisle of our Virgin Islands-bound plane, and she couldn’t have been nicer. Same holds true for the customs man in Tortola. Just one look at our little man’s passport photo could melt the heart of even the most jaded government official. Even still, finally arriving at the charter base felt like a victory, and we were grateful to see Marine Max’s manager Bentley Hodge had stayed late to welcome us with open arms.

Getting Underway

The Admiral's seat.

The reality of how different chartering with a baby was going to be really sunk in when we got up the next morning. When it was just the two of us, we’d race to get off the dock and be swimming in a peaceful anchorage as quickly as possible. But as all parents know, there’s no racing with a baby. The time and energy required for feeding, naptime, and just living with a baby on a boat added to normal charter chores like provisioning slowed us down a bit. Making sure the boy was well cared for was obviously way more important than if we “wasted” our precious charter time at the dock. Everything took longer than expected but it was actually quite liberating to really slow down, and we eventually nosed our extremely well-equipped Marine Max 413s built by Dufour out of the marina and set a course for Cooper Island a full four miles away!

I'm bald!

Part of the delay was simply due to figuring out the logistics of keeping a six-month-old baby safe, secure, and out of the sun on moving, pitching, heeling sailboat in the tropics. Keeping him strapped into his car seat—“The Bucket”—and wedging it into a shady corner of the cockpit sole worked, but I also found that strapping the Bumbo seat on top of the cockpit table provided a much cooler alternative. Just seeing “The Admiral” strapped into his cockpit command seat as we sailed with bit of jib rolled out over to Cooper Island convinced us that we were going to have a great week.

The Admiral may have squirmed and squawked a bit in his Admiral’s seat while Caroline eased us up to the mooring ball off Cooper, and I boathooked the rode onboard, but we ended being safe and secure on the mooring nonetheless.

Things That Go Bump

As we settled in for the night, relaxation and gratitude washed over us as the baby slept peacefully in his portable crib in an aft cabin while we enjoyed the stars and the glassy still anchorage. And then, at around 2330, I awoke to the sound of the rudder making subtle yet strange noise.

Goo Goo. Gaa Gaa.

What I found when I nonchalantly poked my head up the companionway took my breath away—we were on the beach. My mind raced, “How could this have happened? I’ve foolishly put my family in danger!” before I took a deep breath went into full “Keep Cool” mode. Thankfully Caroline knew my somber deep breath meant something was up, but she is good in a crisis too. She made sure the baby was safe and ready to get off the boat in a flash, and as we learned later, it actually wasn’t too bad all things considered.

Turns out the entire mooring screw (of which we happily paid the $30 fee to the mooring’s “owner” the night before) had pulled out of the bottom for apparently no reason. But the wind and swell were thankfully light. Not only were we able to contact Bentley on the phone, he was kind enough to leave his warm bed to come out and pull us off with his powerful work boat. He also stayed with us as we motored back to the marina so we could have the boat checked for damage in the morning.

Look at those legs.

In all of our years chartering, we’d never, ever, called a charter base with a problem, and I hope I never have to again, but I could not be more impressed with, and grateful for, Bentley and his team. They literally saved our trip.

Back in the marina the next morning, we were happy to learn that there was no damage to the boat, but we were also a bit frazzled. It was the day before Christmas. “Okay, right,” I said as the morning hours burned away. “Let’s get out of here so we can spend Christmas up in Virgin Gorda!”

“How far is that exactly?” asked Caroline.

“Hmmmm. 20 miles or so….upwind,” I replied.

Caroline and I have punched into the trades up to the Bitter End YC from Tortola many times before. “Do you think the Pickle is up to that?” she asked.

“Maybe.”

“Well I’m not sure if I’m up to it,” she said. “And I don’t think he is either. Is there somewhere closer?”
“You’re probably right. Let’s just get off the dock and see.”

Love the Hanna PJ's.

I had a feeling we weren’t going to Virgin Gorda almost as soon as we’d unrolled a bit of jib and were beam reaching out of the channel. There was some sting in the northeast trades. The boy was crying. The leeward jib sheet was flogging, and the apparent wind felt like it was howling.

“Remember that peaceful mooring field off Norman Island?” I said over the breeze as I corralled the jib sheet. “We can be there in little over an hour.”

We love that little pickle.

“Let’s go,” said Caroline as she soothed our little Pickle. “We need a little peace.”

So our vision of celebrating Christmas and enjoying all the land-based comforts of the Bitter End Yacht Club shifted to spending the holiday moored in the more private and rugged beauty of Kelly Cove off Norman Island. And we knew we made the right move as soon as we fell off the breeze and started making the easy run down the Channel. The wind quieted down. The boat flattened out. The Pickle stopped fussing, and Caroline and I breathed a bit easier as we literally went with the flow. It’d been quite a trip already.

Christmas Cove

Any disappointment we might have felt for not pushing up to Gorda Sound dissolved as soon as we grabbed one of the four moorings in Kelly Cove. It’s a gorgeous spot and we arrived with plenty of time to take a refreshing dip off the stern, have a nice mellow lunch, and much more importantly, to set the boy up to have a honest-to-goodness nap. Peace at last!

This might be my most favorite photo of all. The boy just loved the little blond french girl at the bar.

Calm and quiet, Kelly Cove was in fact the perfect spot to celebrate Christmas. The boy woke from his nap both rested and curious to explore his surroundings. We turned the saloon into the “play zone” by putting table down so he could have a large cushioned area to play with his large assortment of toys we brought from home. We played a little Mozart on the stereo and watched the uncharacteristically cloudy sky explode with color as the sun went down. And best of all, the boy was able to have his tub before bed just like he does at home.

The best teething ring in the house.

Prior to this trip, Caroline was an absolute genius when it came to finding the stuff we needed to make the boy feel as comfortable as possible on a boat in the tropics. She got it all: sun hats, sun block, sun tents, floating toys, a life jacket, even cute little sunglasses, but the absolute best purchase she made, and what we’d unequivocally encourage any new parents daring enough to charter with an infant to bring was…..the inflatable tub! The picture really does say it all. I mean come on, how cute is that! Mr. Splishy loved it. He had salt water to cool down with and fresh water to clean up with before bed. Talk about portable plunge pool! It was a guaranteed hit every time.

Hanging in the tub with my bottle and my mom is nice.

Christmas morning in the Caribbean is every bit as wonderful as it sounds. We awoke safely, peacefully attached to a secure mooring with no agenda other than to keep unwinding and keep the boy entertained. As any new parent knows, that kind of a day is a rare gift, and we had several in Kelly Cove. We swam, and snorkeled, and cooked like we’ve always done on a charter, but now we had to take turns while we also rocked, soothed, changed, fed, and bathed the little one. We found everything wasn’t necessarily harder with the boy, we just adjusted to his rhythm. It was actually pretty enlightening, but we did get a bit claustrophobic if we didn’t make regular trips into the beach at the nicely updated Pirates Bight bar and restaurant.

Grandy made the gingerbread christmas cookies.

Sailing with a baby definitely opened our eyes to the beauty and relaxation of staying put for a few days, but we’d lost some charter time due to the “mooring incident,” so we had to start thinking about heading back sooner than we’d have liked. And since Cooper Island was the logical stop that would put us within shouting distance of the marina for our last night out, we grudgingly agreed that going back made sense even though we both felt a little funny about it. Caroline soon put it all in perspective. “I want my money back for that defective mooring,” she said with a grin. I couldn’t have agreed more. We set off on the arduous nine mile passage up to Cooper after a lazy breakfast the next morning.

Returning To The Scene Of The Crime

What a difference a few peaceful days on a mooring can make. Feeling much less frazzled and much more confident that we weren’t going to run aground, or drop the baby overboard, or be forced to battle the elements, we enjoyed an invigorating sail up the Channel. And learning from the wily ways of veteran parents, we timed our passage to perfectly coincide with the boy’s morning nap and covered the bulk of the miles while he was literally sleeping like a baby.

I'm still bald!

We agreed all of it—the lugging the stuff, the responsibility, the expense, the sleep depravation—was worth it. We talked of other trips we’re going to do with the little one, and had a laugh at all the things that had gone “wrong” on this one. In addition to the “mooring incident,” we also ran out of propane (again to be “saved” by the truly awesome and understanding Marine Max staff who ran a replacement bottle out to us), and we even ran out of cash to pay our mooring fees. Thankfully, I was able to get some cash from the infamous Willy T boat bar over in Norman—but that’s another story for another story.

The engine jumped from the stern like it had a death wish.

“Nothing else could possibly happen,” I joked. And then I looked aft and saw the hideous sight of our dinghy happily tugging on its painter without an engine on the transom. I’m totally serious. It was just like that. My heart sank as fast as that outboard must have.

Ahhhhhhhh! I think my scream woke up napping babies on land. And there simply was nothing to be done but accept the shame of it. I’d become one of the endless progression of gobs who’d unwittingly allowed an outboard to end up at the bottom of Sir Francis Drake Channel. Sometimes Murphy strikes with a vengeance. So, we simply picked a mooring as close to the Cooper Island Beach Club as possible so our row into shore wouldn’t be too hard.

The row to shore was more annoying than hard but that really didn’t matter. We had cold drinks in the shade and the cutest, baldest baby in the world continued to bring the warmness out of everyone we met. Caroline found out where our “mooring man” was and I got our money back. He couldn’t have been nicer or more apologetic. “I’m sorry man,” he said. “The screw just pulled out. Here’s your 30 bucks back,” he said as he turned away to blow the smoke from his cigarette away from me. What more can you say really?

So, when the no-see-ums came out, we made our way back to the only engineless inflatable on the dock, and jerkily rowed our way back to the boat. Then it was time for Mr. Splishy’s bath, and dinner, and the full moonrise, and the welcome oblivion of sleep.

Mr. Splishy sure loves his tub!

But something really beautiful happened the next morning. Instead of being depressed by all the weird bad luck we had on this trip, I saw the beautiful sunrise, smelled my fresh brewed coffee mixed in with the warm, soft, sweet air, and plopped our little bald “Admiral” into his admiral’s seat, and realized how truly lucky we are. Outboard engines are a dime a dozen. But there’s only one Mr. Splishy!

Yaaaaachting back in time aboard a mighty O'Day 27

2014-08-26T22:11:00.000-04:00

Sailing aboard the mighty Sea Spy this weekend was an was an unexpected joy. A bloody, ruddy joy I say. I mean, how often does one get a chance to sail aboard a true original. Yes, yes, yes folks, I've literally sailed aboard boats that are worth millions of dollars but nothing, absolutely nothing can compete with the vintage, and the authenticity, and the plywood-ness, and the patina of an early 70's O'Day 27. A veritable yacht in it's day and one that's kept to a high degree of genuineness by our friends on the tony eastern shores of the Kickemuit River on the Rhode Island-Massachusetts border.

After dropping the Spy's rusty anchor on the eastern edge of a special-litte cove on the northern side of Mt. Hope Bay, and snacking on a luncheon made up of baguettes, berratta, beer and fizzy water in the cockpit, and toasting the genius of our little sailing mission aboard our friend's shabby-chic, crazy-ass, absolutely fantastic O'day 27 in the waning days of Summer......

...I was overcome with dejavu. Absolutely overcome with memories of my wonderfully painful misspent youth that was spent aboard a 24-foot Bahama Islander with 4-foot headroom, and non-shoal-draft friendly 4-foot draft, on the warm and terrifying waters of Pleasant Bay, Cape Cod, USA, that was earily simmilar to the reagally real O'Day 27 my self and the Honey Bunny found ourselves pleasure cruising aboard last weekend.

And maybe I'm not quite ready for those memories just yet. I mean, everything, from the "original" 40-year-old mainsail, to the faded wooden tiller, and the ultra-70's interior of the mighty Spy stirred up memories of going aground, and almost getting run down by lobster boats, and being boarded by the Coast Guard, and "navigating" by nothing other than an ill-fated philosophy of "keeping the land on the left," and scaring the living daylights out of myself and some unsuspecting "friends" in fog, and high winds and steep Buzzards Bay chop, that I'm not quite ready to fully unearth...Yet.

But do stay tuned because it's a doozy of a tale. And absolute whopper I say. And while I'm not ready to fully let the cat out of the bag about the magical, painful, and transformative summer of 1993, I did find it within my self to go down into the old desk keep my old photos in the basement of our charming little land-based house that was built in 1919, and dig up one of the few remaining images (above) from my old 24-foot home on the water that was at many many times the loneliest place in the world.

Notice the 40-year old mainsail? And the old fishing compass that I thought was "wrong" when the land stopped being on the left. And the orange sticker the "Harbormaster" stuck on the cabin for some ridiculous bureaucratic reason and for the icing on the cake---the pool toy dinghy that was my only means to get from ship to shore in those halcyon days of poverty and poetry.

I'm going to finally tell the tale because I owe it to the little one.

Any kid who can moonwalk like this deserves to know what his Daddy was like before he was born don'tchathink?

Seriously, do check back to here the tale and to see what other photos turn up. I guarantee you'll feel better about yourself.

Really.

Joy and sadness in the summertime

2014-08-19T21:19:00.002-04:00

Yes, yes, yes, friends, my surprisingly joyful return to the sheer joy of sailing, and more specifically small boat sailboat racing, is best summed up in the immortal words of iconic 70's rockers Foreigner..."It Feels Like The First Time..."

And I gotta admit, I thought sailboat racing was part of my distant past, like smoking, skateboarding, Foreigner, and doing stair-rolls at parties (don't ask).

But wa da ya know, since I've dusted off the ol' Sunfish, and experienced my first Sunfish race in about 100 years, I'm literally chomping at the bit to get out there and mix it up again.

Or maybe it's simply because I can share all this seaside Sunfish wonderfulness with my little one who intuitively seems to know his way around boats and the sea. What do you think we're looking at? Mommy probably.

He came down to the beach to help me get ready to sail, wowed the competition with his cuteness, and then was a little mad when he got left on the shore with Mommy when I finally pushed off with the rest of the fleet.

Look at that sky. And the sand. And the beach grass. And the PFD's. Doesn't get more summery than that now does it?

And what's better than a candy striped sail?.....

...Well, it's August 19th, 2014, and I do tend to blog about shiny, happy preppie things all the time but, I'm hardly immune to the events of the day. And while real, painful, horrible violence is happening in Gaza, and Ukraine, and Iraq (an American photo journalist in Iraq was "executed" on TV by the group calling itself "The Islamic State" just today), and in poor places all over the world, what's going on in Ferguson, Missouri, makes me mad, sad, and grateful, and even hopeful all at the same time.

And I hope, check that, my plan-- at least in our little family--is that our little boy will grow up in a world (or at least a household, and yes, a preppie household) where love is more powerful than hate. And where peace and connection and communication and humor is more powerful than violence. And where each person feels just a little bit more for the plight of the other guy than we do now. Peace begins in our hearts. In each of our hearts. And if we can all just find a little peace in our hearts anything is possible.

And as the protests in Ferguson, Missouri go into their 10th day, and yet another black man in his 20's was shot in St. Louis County by the police, Captain Ron Johnson of the Missouri Highway Patrol still makes me feel like good things are possible, even in a world and a country where young kids gets shot in the street by police ALL THE TIME. Please watch the whole video below. And then go give your kids or your wife or your parents or a friend a hug. And then forgive if you can.

Pure. Unadulterated. Joy.

2014-08-05T22:08:00.002-04:00

That's what I've been experiencing lately. Pure. Unadulterated. Joy. The joy of spinnaker sailing between ancient cites during the white nights of the Baltic.

And the joy of watching cute little children sail small square boats under the warm, magical, soft and restorative summer sun of my beloved Cape Cod.

And the simple and profound joy of sailing a small boat may be more powerful now than it has ever been. After all the years. And all the boats. And all the miles. And even after all the awesomeness of the bodacious Baltic trip from which I've just returned, nothing really can compare with the hum of the daggarboard, or the sizzle of the hull, or the sweet and salty spray, and splashes, and full-on soakings--and the smiles and sun tans, and stretched stomach muscles--that happen with such regularity at the humble helm of a mighty Sunfish.

Who doesn't have a happy Sunfish memory? Who hasn't been a kid and experienced the intoxicating sensation of freedom that comes when your parents get left on shore and your entire world becomes as small as that tiny-little cockpit and as limitless as your imagination? And who hasn't felt like a kid again after pushing off from a sandy beach in waist-high water to leave the weight of the troubled adult world on the beach for just a little while?

Maybe that's what I like the most. That moment when you push off from the beach and the only thing you have to do is make sure you can trim the main and get the daggarboard down in time.

Or maybe it's simply the fact that you're gonna get wet. I've sailed entire passages (1,000's of miles) protected by soul-killing (yet oh so warm and comfortable) plastic cockpit enclosures and never touching the helm except to adjust the auto pilot. Where's the fun in that? The coffee? The star gazing? The smoking (when I smoked)? The beauty and monotony of the sea? Maybe.

But, Joy (with a capital J) that I'm talking about here can never really be experienced behind a plastic enclosure (no matter how new or clear it is) or even when "Otto" the autopilot is driving.

And the truth is, all that joy pales in comparison--actually it's simply multiplied by many, many factors since I'm able to share it--with my happy, chatty, bossy, and utterly game-for-anything little boy.

He's game. A gamer. Just looking at this photo warms my heart. And so does this video. Sailing and boats and docks and the sea have already taught us several powerful lessons. And he's only 2. My buddy who heads up the sailing program here in Preppietown tells me that sailing lessons and Opti sailing don't really start until he's 7. But I'm thinking we'll take him out before then. And then he can decide if he likes it or not.

Or maybe he'll be a launch driver. Or a "speedboater."

Meanwhile, my job is to fix things that break (like this rudder that cracked that was fixed with some wood glue and a big pipe clamp). Heck, the honey bunny and I even had a little "date" sail around the harbor when I first launched the boat after cleaning it up and rescuing it from it's solitary confinement behind the garage.

And get ready to race this weekend.

And I gotta find the ol' spikey Swizzle wig. I'm mean come on. White sunglasses. White visor. White Sunfish. Rare, rare white Sunfish sail. This is the Swizzle's native habitat, Right? And I might actually even go sailing...........

Then the Russian bikini models in the 4-inch stilettos showed up

2014-08-04T10:11:00.000-04:00

Ummm. I'm not making this up. That's the wonderful X-412 that I sailed aboard on my recent Baltic sojourn in the background. That's the crazy Russian high rises and some ultra-Soviet-type of concrete seawall/marina breakwater that was our home in St. Petersburg. And that's one of the many Russian bikini models that just happened to be in the area and ended up using the headstay, and eventually the whole bow of the boat, as a prop for some weird Russian promotional material for some sort of crazy Russian "Fast and Furious-type" car racing/drag racing circuit that takes place on the "peaceful" city streets of St. Petersburg. I'm totally serious. This is a straight up report. And that's why I feel compelled to tell the story. And I'm grateful that honey bunny is graciously letting the "journalist" in me tell it even though she does not approve of me fraternizing with Russian bikini models.

But as you can see in this video, there really wasn't any "fraternizing." It was all so strange, and wonderful, and strange, and somehow quite perfect so all I could do was gawk and shoot a few photos and videos just to prove that it all happened.

What can you really say about all of this? I mean, it's crazy just how quickly this all seemed so normal. We were only in St. Petersburg for 4 days yet, the chrome Bugatti Veyrons, and helicopters landing all the time, and Ferraris, and gilded palaces, and crazy hydrofoils going 50 knots up the Neva River past little groups of kids sailing Optis, and kookie Russian vacationers riding jet skis all over the place, and the ultra loud music coming from the many weird outdoor clubs near the marina, and the sun that never really went down, became "normal" all too quickly.

Okay, enough musing. Here's some more Russian bikini models and weird Russian/Japanese "street racer" cars. The guy who was "in charge" was all excited about this car for some reason. But the curve of the Russian bikini model's back was what caught my attention. But apparently didn't do much for the shirtless guys. Maybe it was all too "normal" for them too.

Okay, more ladies in 4-inch heels. Less shirtless guys please.

Notice the heels? We had to draw the line at letting them wear the heels on the boat, but they were totally appropriate for requisite, bikini-butt-up-against-the-car-door-with-your-back-arched shots. These three ladies were totally game and were pretty friendly in an international outreach kinda way.

They even posed--one bikini-clad Russian model on each arm with Rainer, the sweet and bookish engineer from Switzerland who was a member of the ARC Baltic crew on the the boat next to ours. And the guy who was "in charge" even motioned for me to come over and get in on the one bikini-clad-Russian-model-on-each-arm-action with a greasy and somewhat evil smile. But....I didn't. Something about his evil smile just didn't seem right.

And anyway, the girls on the wall were nothing like the "prima ballerina" that seemed to drop out of the sky, have her photo taken, and then disappear back into some black SUV parked up on the wall. She was just that. The "prima ballerina." A cut above who would never condescend to have her photo taken with nerdy and sweet Reinhardt from Switzerland.

For me this could be the quintessential Russian photo. Decaying concrete. Over-the-top-"conspicuous consumption." The reverence of the appearance of beauty. Taken at the edge of a cliff, over a poisoned sea that smells like diesel fuel.

Or maybe this one is.

The girl in the stripped suit wanted me to take this photo with her friend. She even had me take some with her phone. The hair. The stilettos. And the outfits all tell a story. But like my friend on the bus, the faces really kinda express what I felt when I was there. Especially the girl in the dark shirt. She's old enough to have stuff to be sad about, while the girl in the stripes probably (I hope not, but probably) has some sadness comming her way.

Meanwhile....

This panorama really shows it all. You see the girls and the car on the wall to the left, and there's that wonderful X-412 with the blue sun awning on the right. Just another, run-of-the-mill photo shoot of Russian bikini models wearing 4-inch heels on a soviet-era breakwater at the mouth of the Neva River. Yep, just another "normal" day in a Russian marina.

News flash: Russian-style excessive excess is excessive

2014-07-29T06:38:00.000-04:00

We all know the stereotype of a Russian oligarch bathing in champagne and having a peacocks in gilded cages in each of his 27 garishly decorated bathrooms, but, it's still kinda shocking when you actually experience it first hand......This Bugatti Veyron literally costs a million dollars.

And this guy was just driving it down the dirt road that leads to the modernized/soviet-era marina where the ARC Baltic stopped in St. Petersburg, Russia and the clubs where the well-heeled men and their massively high-heeled escorts spend mucho wads of cash until us "yachtsmen" emerged from our small-little sailboats to walk up to the non-remodeled soviet-era "marina building" so we can use the toilets since we don't want to pollute the pristine waters around St. Petersburg by pumping our waste overboard. See the excess is contagious! Now I'm starting to write more excessively than normal. And even the wifi (that only worked near the soviet-era "security office" was excessive. The username was "More2" (in english of course) and the password was "moremore." I couldn't make that up if I tried.

This video captures the Russian experience that I experienced better than words can describe. Million-dollar Bugatti man gets in a traffic jam with the Russian lady who works from 7am to 10pm driving her tractor around and picking up the trash. He backs out of the way so she can pass (she has utter disdain for him and his car) and then the ubiquitous wedding party cheers for the weathered Russian lady as she continues on her trash pick up route.

Or maybe this video captures the essence of excessive Russia. The helicopters simply landed and took off from the field next to the dirt road all day long.

Or maybe this Lada does it. It's "parked" just outside the marina.

Or maybe one of Catherine The Great's hundreds of thousands uber ornate door knobs capture the requisite essence of excess.

Or how about the quintessential soviet factory (just outside the marina/night club compound with the Bugatti's and the dirt road) that was hastily erected in 1942 to build the necessary weapons to beat back Hitler's horde. And what's the barbed wire for?

Or maybe scary excess is not all that Russian after all. These pictures were taken after my touchdown in a certain preppie enclave that's more than a few kilometers from the Baltic back in good ol' US of A.

I think there's like 1.5 million worth of traffic jam transport here on this little corner of paradise. The road is paved however.

I wonder what this lady (who is one of the many ladies who earn their non-livable pensions by sitting in the many cultural sites of St. Petersburg) would do with a white Bentley?

All that glitters IS gold....

2014-07-25T15:32:00.000-04:00

When it comes to the Hermitage and the Winter Palace....

Fit for a king, no? Actually more like an emperor.

Today was spent wandering the never-ending display of Russian opulence that is The Hermitage and the Winter Palace in St. Petersburg. And the sad thing is, words can't begin to describe the sensory overload that comes from being plopped down into Russia from the deck of a finely crafted danish cruising boat. And the truth is, photos can't do it either. Maybe its because everything is bigger and more over the top than I originally thought anything could be. Even the urn pictured under the gilded ceiling of the Hermitage is about 10 feet tall. Everything is ten feet tall. And 10 times more of everything that any rational person would think possible.

Can you see the cold Russian night being illuminated hundreds of twinkling candles reflecting off thousands of cut crystals? I can.

This sunlit gallery is dedicated to all the bad-ass and well dressed Russians that sent Napoleon back to France. Kinda like the Football Hall of Fame in Canton, Ohio no?

And don't forget the Romonov's private theater. Swan Lake was stunning. Not bad for my first ballet.

You have an idea that this is a special "Throne" no? I think it could do with a bit more decoration and can you ever really have enough gold?

Well.....not everything is gold. But you have to admit the way Rembrandt captures the light on this father and son reunion is pretty golden. And so is the frame.

And these guys aren't too golden, but they are pretty bad-ass none-the-less. And as you can see, I started to get a little woozy after bathing in all that is good Russian art for like, 8 hours in a row. I in fact wondered if they were the 4 horseman of the apocalypse. And then I know I had to head for the exit when I say this wonderful scene take place. I really love the way this pretty young lady is posing for the picture her mom is taking of her in front of yet another larger-than-life statue that's quite en vogue in St. Petersburg. But who cares about that old block of stone. I love the profile. And the turned head. And the Mona Lisa smile. And the "acid washed" jeans. But what really compelled me take this picture was her t-shirt. She's rocking a picture of Putin wearing sunglasses.

I know that Russo-world politics is all screwy these days (that I've in fact been quite oblivious too), but in Star Wars weird Russia, getting your picture taken by your mom in front of a larger-than-life statue of a shirtless, bearded tough guy with a photo of Vladimir Putin rocking a pair of sunglasses is very, very right.

But that's not all.

After stumbling out into the bright Baltic light and making my way to the Metro stop near the Winter Palace, I encounter this wonderful woman. Several crews from the rally were making their way back to the marina on #7 electric bus and she's in charge of the tickets. It was hot. But you can see she's smiling. She wanted to make sure we were on the right tram and that we know were to get off. She just seemed to be a real nice mom making a living in the big city.

But as we approached our stop at the end of the line, she sat down. And as she stared out the window I couldn't help but notice that her eyes were starting to well up. And then a single tear rolled down her cheek that she absentmindedly brushed away. It's hard to describe but I was overcome with a profound sense of compassion. Of course I had no idea what she was thinking of at that moment but all I thought to do was to help and give her a hug and tell her it was going to be okay.

But then the chance passed. Our stop came. She smiled and motioned to us that this was our stop and we were gone.

But I did at least get a chance to look her in the eyes and say "Spasibo."

Travelling to Star Wars weird places on fine Danish yachts with a fantastic Swedish couple is cool.

Bodacious Baltic Boat Cruise Barrells into Russia

2014-07-23T17:38:00.002-04:00

Well, it's about 1am local Russia time and the big bass disco-party is in full swing here at our marina in St. Petersburg. And since I don't really know where to start, and I'm hopping to connect with my cute little family in about a half and hour, I'm going to let the photos do the talking in this next installment of the Bodacious Baltic Boat Tour.

And here's a news flash, Russia is nothing like Sweden. But you probably knew that already.

Both countries are on the Baltic. But that's about it. Hanging on the bow on the Baltic however is an excellent place to ponder "Being where your feet are." I have, and continue to see the profoundness of that simple statement. Especially when wearing Puma Suades on the bow of my new favorite cruising boat--Tommy and Anita's X-412. I'll tell you more later.

Fuel tankers were also pondered to some degree today. Why? I'll tell you later.

This was about 4 this morning. We had to wait before we could go through the crazy gates that guard the 25-mile long smelly, brown bay that people have been fighting on for generations.

And why did we have to drift, with all the big-ass tankers and freighters in the distance you ask? It's a long story (which I'll be telling in various sailing magazines in the coming months). I will tell you however, that thanks to Tommy and Anita who hail from Stockholm, I've been turned on to the culinary delights of Swedish yogurt and "Rizzatti" (pictured above) with some fantastic instant coffee that I must admit, I brought from the Good ol' USA.

Clearing into Russia with an American passport at this totally welcoming customs dock was actually exactly like I'd expected it to be. After some serious buraucracy went down, I was granted the magic stamp and we were free to proceed the 25-brown miles down a narrow channel that bisects St. Petersburg's smelly brown bay .

Pictured above are two of sweetest, funniest, and warmest people (who also happen to be fantastic, and highly accomplished sailors and travellers) I've met in a long while. Man, did I hit the jackpot when I got teamed up with Tommy and Anita. My love of sailing and travelling and writing about it has been supercharged thanks to them.

And check out the brown water. It's kinda smelly.

And check out the glasses! Is there any wonder we feel such warmness towards each other? Um....no.

So, just to up the surreal-ness of Russia to gargantuan proportions, it seemed like a good idea to go for a 10 mile run almost as soon as we arrived. And it sure did. What a great way to experience a new country as crazy as Russia for the first time.

So, this here is a nuclear ICBM that's just parked in a "Weapons Museum" that's across the street from Peter and Paul Cathedral. Isn't it sweet?

And this is a car I passed on my way back to the marina.

But this beauty is what I found once we got behind the security guarded gates at the marina. That's some dope airbrushing, no?

And be sure to stay tuned. I'm off to see Swan Lake tomorrow with lots of other crews of the fantastic inaugural edition of the ARC Baltic.

Estonian escapades

2014-07-22T22:07:00.000-04:00

Tallinn was founded on June 7, 1238 by the Teutonic Knights who were looking for a bit of respite from the Crusades for cripes sake! What can you really say about that? It's a bit different than cruising in the good'ol US of A where a ship captain's house from the 1800's is like, wicked old. Except for the sea wall. Interlocking concrete stars are pretty new.

Love the cobbles. And the graffiti. And the authenticity of the place. Sure it's got it's tourist appeal, but like Visby--one of the other walled cities we visited during the ARC Baltic--on the Swedish island of Gotland, it's also got real people who live and work and do politics--Nato, Euro, EU democracy, 18-months of maternity leave--etc. there too.

Tallinn, like many cities in Europe has a main square where people have hung out and traded and been pilloried for centuries. And these also make for great places to have outdoor cafes--and bike tour meet-ups. And it's also on a hill. Interesting.

Here's a fine little fixer-upper in the lower part of the old city. This was to be my first introduction to the utterly captivating decay that can be found in some parts of former communist (willing or not) republics. If these walls could breathe----I think they'd have emphysema.

No self-respecting walled "old-city" can function without narrow, cobblestone streets, thick stone walls, and multiple "observation towers" that provided an effective defense for only a brief moment in time.

And then there's this utterly crazy "observation tower" that greeted us upon our arrival in the marina. Is it really any different than the ivy covered tower that is still guarding the main entrance to Tallinn? Umm, no except for the orange paint and the communist-era "design."

And speaking of "design." What can you say about this "Spa Hotel" near the marina? Um nothing except.........blech. Talk about kookie communist architecture. I'm still scratching my head a bit about this one. It's like a space ship went all loony tunes in a concrete factory.

But enough about all the tourist stuff. When is comes to cruising, the customs man always holds a weird and wonderful power of the rubber stamp. These Estonian "Politsei" were nice enough, but, they were not going to let us out until they'd checked us out. And they only had one stamp so we queued up for the privledge of departing Estonian waters with smiles on our faces and plenty of photos and video in our own personal "clouds."

Spinnaker Sailing through Scandinavia

2014-07-21T05:00:00.000-04:00

If Scandinavia had a Chamber of Commerce (which actually I'm sure it has some sort of government agency that acts as a chamber of commerce) this is the kind of night they want to be telling people about. It's probably about 10:30 PM or so. Sun is just about to dip below the horizon. Happy boat. Happy crew. Happy everything. This shot was taken on our way up from Gotska something-or-other, a sandy Swedish atoll in between Visby and Tallinn. We've just taken the spinnaker down after a simply glorious day of no-jybe, 120-degrees of apparent wind spinnaker sailing awesomness.

See what I mean by no-jybe, 120-degree apparent wind angle awesomeness!

And we only took it down only because the wind died to under 1 meter per second (that's about 2 knots for you North American philistines that don't use the brilliant metric system).

Who says sailing isn't pretty, or glamorous or just for the happily retired? It's like performance art up here in the Baltic. Especially when I'm sailing with two of the sweetest people I've ever met. Tommy and Anitia are from Stockholm and they are simply the best. And their X-412 is a Danish rocket ship in the light stuff. I'll take 7 knots of boat speed in a 4-meters per second breeze any day.

And then we arrived in Tallinn.

What an fantastic first impression I received when I stepped foot into Estonia for the first time. This was only one of many happy bridal parties (complete with wedding dresses and cool purple sashes) that were gallivanting around the docks and we sweaty sailors tied up our lines and went in search of overpriced showers.

In fact, our marina just outside Tallinn was the sailing venue for the 1980 Moscow Olympics. Kinda communist, no? So there's lots of decaying concrete and remnants of a not-so-happy marriage between Estonia (which has a rich history that I'll explain more later) and their neighbours to the east. But alas, I'm a lover not a politician.

Plus I'm wonderfully clean (and finally clean shaven) as I compose this post on the veranda overlooking nice clay tennis courts and the inner marina. Not-so-communist, no?

Tune in more later as the next stop --St. Petersburg, Russia--is sure to be a bit more.....communist, I think.

And here are the links to the rest of the "reporting" that came from this awesome adventure.

Binge Blogging
Rocking the 12th Century
Estonian Escapades
Bodacious Baltic Cruise Barrels Into Russia
All That Glitters IS Gold
Excessive Russian Excess is Excessive
Then the Russian Bikini Models Showed Up

Visby, Gotland, Sweden: Rocking the 12th century

2014-07-15T08:48:00.000-04:00

So, I just love this place. For those of you that don't know, the walled town of Visby, on the island of Gotland, in the country of Sweden rocks stone medieval towers, quaint cottages all covered with tar, ultra-classic American luxury cars from the 1950's, and since "Stockholm Week" has just begun, lots of house music and blond girls who wear Chuck Taylors by day and no doubt so kind of club wear in the evenings.

Pretty picturesque, no? This shot was taken without any filters or any photoshop. This is exactly how Visby looked today (after the nasty rain whipped through last night.) This was were the 12th-century "yachtsmen" used to haul up their long boats after a pleasant day of pillaging.

See the masts down in the distance? That's why I'm here. Among those masts is the fleet of the first ever ARC Baltic rally. And yours truly is here to tell the tale. I took this shot at the apex of "town" which also happened to be the apex of the excellent and well-organized tour that is just one of the many positive aspects of a rally. I'd probably not do a tour if I'd just cruised here on my own but I'm so glad I did. And it was so easy. It's like we're dubbed "instant locals."

It was all about the churches back in the day, and Visby boats like, 12 church ruins withing the walls of the city and over 90 significant, stone churches on the entire island.

The biggest church in town has a stone floor covered in inscriptions. I'm sorry but I don't know what it says yet.

According to this stone gateway, those 12-century guys were tough, religious, and liked "boating," but, it seems, since the door is only about 4-feet tall, they were also quite short.

You had to be sort of a bad ass to first build and then defend this type of gate from the unwashed hoards who didn't want to pay the toll to come in and trade with the merchants in town but with a view like this.......

.....those guys at least had a nice view when they poured boiling oil and threw limestone boulders down upon their would-be sackers.

No wonder all the Chuck Taylor shod Swedes want to come to Gotland this week. It's gorgeous. Tune in later for the next instalment where there may actually be some sailing. Looks like the weather is going to be sporty.