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: 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.

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.
During the summer sailing season I had kept Radiant Beam close to my favorite cruising grounds near Pamlico Sound in North Carolina. As November approached, however, it was time to bring the boat back to her homeport in Wilmington.

In Search of an Iceberg

by Maura Flaherty, Posted February 20, 2013
Teresa Carey and her husband, Ben, plan to release their documentary film, One Simple Question, to film festivals this summer. The film follows the couple as they move aboard their Bristol Channel Cutter 28 Elizabeth and set sail in search of a mammoth iceberg adrift in the North Atlantic. 

Windshifts: The Worst Day

by Matts Djos, Posted August 15, 2013
Though we’d dragged our 6,000-pound Balboa 26 over three mountain ranges and through seven passes, our pilgrimage from Colorado to Washington State had been relatively carefree. After that we’d spent three weeks in the Gulf Islands east of Vancouver, all without a serious mishap. Then, as we were moored in Oak Harbor preparing for the final leg back to Seattle, everything changed.
The first time I saw a spinnaker I was only a few years old. It was flying on the bow of a 35ft foot cruiser off the coast of Maine. A few years later, my father agreed to set the kite on our 50ft Hinckley, a rare concession.
The wind was too light to sail, so we started out motoring. Soon, however, my buddy’s motor started heating up. The access hatch was buried under camping gear, and he didn’t want to investigate right then, so he shut his engine down, and I took his boat in tow.
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