Cruising

The Mayday that Wasn't

by Stan Wreford, Posted July 1, 2011
This article originally appeared in the October 2009 issue

We were 450 miles south of Bermuda and three days into a passage from Bermuda to St. Martin on Dream Weaver, our 50-foot cutter, when Dawn, my wife, asked me, “Why is the sink filled with water?”. With moderate northerly winds we’d made good progress for two days, but then the wind had died and turned southerly. We’d been


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Why I Skip Bermuda

by Don Street, Posted July 1, 2011
This article originally appeared in the October 2009 issue

Many sailors think the best way to reach the Caribbean from the northeast U.S. is to head for Bermuda, spend a few days there, and then take an easy ride down to the islands. In my experience this is neither the quickest or safest route for boats under 55 feet. Many American insurance companies, and almost all Lloyds


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Moon Over Christmas Cove

by Norman Gautreau, Posted June 30, 2011
This article originally appeared in the October 2009 issue

We’d been racing Counterpoint, our C&C 33, intensely and it was time for a break. So when my wife, Susan, said, “Let’s take a cruise, just the two of us,” I eagerly agreed.

Racing can be intoxicating, but it can also mirror the stress of corporate life; it can’t refresh the soul the way cruising does when you


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Bundaberg, Australia

by Duncan Gould, Posted June 24, 2011

This article originally appeared in the October 2009 issue

 

The Burnett River is a big, slow-moving river, muddy from eons of moving silt. Where Moose, our 39-foot cutter, is moored at “Bundy,” eight miles up from the sea, the current direction changes twice a day as the tide floods and then ebbs. But Moose doesn’t clock around with tide cycle because she’s tied,


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The Pier-Head Jumper

by Tom Cunliffe, Posted June 24, 2011
This article originally appeared in the April 2009 issue

I don’t know about you, but although I much prefer to go to sea with tried and tested buddies, there are times when I end up shipping out with total strangers. You’ve met the type. They might be those credible people you run into in a waterfront bar with a tale to tell. “There I was, and the waves were 40 feet high…” And so


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How to Save a Flipped Dinghy

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