Columns

According to Coast Guard statistics, the vast majority of drownings happen from boats less than 26 feet long, with solo boaters especially at risk. Isn’t it time for the United States to make lifejacket use mandatory aboard boats of this size or when boating solo? 

One Hull or Two?

by Pat Schulte, Posted February 4, 2014
A cruiser's take on the great debate

Voice of Experience: The Less Difficult Sail

by Lambros Karrie, Posted May 6, 2014
About a mile east of the Saint Lucie shoal and about 15 miles from the entrance to Ft. Pierce, as John was negotiating a steep wave, we heard a sudden loud noise under our feet. John screamed “Take it, take it!” as the boat headed into the wave. The reefed genoa backed, and the boat came about and started heading in the opposite direction with the wind and waves on our port side.

Voice of Experience: Going Wrong in Fives

by Timothy B. Glynn, Posted July 14, 2014
John D. Macdonald, through his iconic character Travis McGee, observed that one thing never goes wrong on a boat. Instead, things go wrong in threes.

Voice of Experience: Race Interrupted

by Tim Turner, Posted April 15, 2014
As I tried to drop the mainsail on my Laguna 26 Sailvation in the midst of a howling hailstorm, I remembered the story of Ulysses being lashed to his mast.
I am lounging in the cockpit with a lemonade in hand, sunglasses on my face and flip-flops nearby. The boom above my head drifts from side to side in perfect time with the small waves.
“Bad news, honey,” my husband, Leif, told me, “We own a sailboat.” That’s how I found out about the Cape Dory Typhoon Weekender.
I first went to New Zealand in 2006. I was 20 years old and setting off on my first long journey away from home, bound for Brisbane, Australia, for a semester of college at the University of Queensland.

Windshifts: A Semi-Pirate Story

by Ray Jason, Posted September 19, 2013
They didn’t hoist the Jolly Roger or fire a shot across my bow, but their intentions were worrisome. I was 80 miles off the coast of Nicaragua, on a rhumb line course from Panama to Key West. The seas were sloppy and felt more like Mother Maytag than Mother Ocean. My Spanish is bueno, and I had been trying to raise my visitors on the radio for 20 minutes. Surely the four hombres aboard the 70-foot rust museum weren’t blasting through these dreadful seas just to sell me a fish.

Into the Mystic

by Paul VanDevelder, Posted April 10, 2014
It probably started as an impulse gone wild, coaxed from my inner recesses by all that blue water, an empty wine bottle and the star-strewn lassitude of a midnight watch. 
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