It started, as so many of these things do, over a beer. At the time, a circumnavigation of Cape Cod sounded easy. After all, it’s our home territory.That conversation took place sometime in 2003, and here we were last summer, still planning this epic voyage. Not that we hadn’t tried. Twice, SAIL editors had set off in Corsair F-24 trimarans borrowed from the Multihull Source in Wareham,
This article originally appeared in the December 2009 issueSweet little Bocas del Toro, Panama, was slipping astern of me. It is an obscure but superb cruising stop where life and laughter flow as easily as a mid-moon tide. The hub of the scene there is the Bocas Marina and a delightful bar called the Calypso Cantina.This is a classic example of what I call a “cruisers'
Sailing started out for me with a simple dream. I always wanted to have my own little boat where I could take her out on the ocean. I grew up in Huntington Beach, California, where my family spent many summers at the beach. At the pier, I would gaze longingly at the sailboats as they launched.
“I always put the fear of God into people that this is the world’s third-largest barrier reef,” says Capt. Joe Dyll of the western Florida Keys, which have long been one of his favorite cruising grounds.
Once you’re out of sight of land for a while, you understand why they speak of “offshore sailing” in the Great Lakes.Once you’ve been through a few sail changes, you might think of the prevailing wind as “variable.”And once you’ve gone the length of Lake Michigan, you will be, in a small way, a veteran of sailing in the heart of America. I say “in a small way” because there is a lot of
I once sailed my Westsail 32, Antares, from Virginia to Bermuda. Through 760 miles of open ocean, Gulf Stream storms with towering seas, setbacks and survival, I was completely alone. I’ve crewed aboard boats all over the world, but I had never experienced conditions like those of the first days of the passage.I was mugged by a nasty northerly gale just off Cape Hatteras. Battered
It is a warm moonless night in northwest Florida. A whiff of late spring wisteria wafts across the lake. In the distance, cicadas drone their night music. Overhead, every star in the galaxy is shining. Their reflections on the black waters of northwest Florida’s Lake Seminole create the illusion that we are sailing through outer space. In truth we are ghosting along on my 16-foot Hobie Cat, soft
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,