Cruising This article originally appeared in the October 2009 issue

The question came up every year: “Whadya think about chartering in the Caribbean?” And every year the answer was the same: “Nah.”

My wife, Jennifer, and I sail our Caliber 38, Catamount, in the northern latitudes, on the fresh waters of Georgian Bay on Lake Huron. The idea of chartering in the Caribbean


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Cruising

River Run

by Tom Cunliffe, Posted June 23, 2011
This article originally appeared in the December 2009 issue

Half a century ago, sailing a full-sized boat up a tidal river was all in a day’s work. Today we rely on our diesel engines instead, but there is no gain without pain. Firing up an engine as a matter of course on entering a river is easy, but is hardly sporting. The skills needed to work up a narrow waterway under sail


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Cruising

1,000 Islands

by David W. Shaw, Posted June 23, 2011
This article originally appeared in the December 2009 issue

Whitecaps kicked up by a strong southwesterly wind churned the St. Lawrence River between the New York shore and Grindstone Island. A fierce gust hit, forcing me to goose the throttle of the little single-cylinder diesel that powered Elizabeth, the Bristol 24 my wife, Liz, and I sailed for more than a decade throughout the


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Profiles

Sailing Sense: The Quiet Stranger

by Robbert Das, Posted June 17, 2011
Originally published in the February 2009 issue

No one really knows what inspired Harry Young, a 38-year-old British sailor who’d been staying in New York, to sail solo across the Atlantic. It’s also not clear why he made the passage in a small boat he’d designed and built himself and hadn’t bothered to name, though some think Young had been up to some mischief in New York and


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Cruising

Sailing Sense: The Islands of Trang

by Fran Slingerland, Posted June 16, 2011
Article originally appeared in February 2009 issue

The water at the entrance to Tham Morakot (Emerald Cave) is dark aquamarine. Dense schools of small fish make their way from alcove to alcove. In the air above, echoes clatter off the stalactites. The ocean reaches in like an arm and yanks out again. Under the water is silence; dark masses of fish drift in and out, and colors


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