Details 2010 My fifth circumnavigation was my first entirely in the computer age, which enabled me to compile better statistics than on my earlier voyages. Although my starting point in New Zealand and the duration of the voyage were unusual, most of my course followed a conventional trade wind circumnavigation and its details may be relevant to others. some numbers I sailed from Opua, New Zealand on April 21, 2008, and returned there 537 days later on October 10, 2009, For slightly more than a third of that time, THE HAWKE OF TUONELA was laid up while I flew back to the United States to spend time with Carol, my wife. The green sloop was at the Durban Marina in South Africa from Sept. 9, 2008 to January 28. 2009; and on the hard at Raiatea Carenage in the Society Islands from June 24 until Sept 9, 2009, for a total of 214 days. Of the remaining 323 days, THE HAWKE OF TUONELA was underway for 213. This counts any day in which the boat moved forward, including one of only five miles inside the lagoon at Raiatea; the partial days at the beginnings and ends of passages; and those daysailing between overnight anchorages inside the Great Barrier Reef from Cairns to Cape York, Australia. Full twenty-four hour passage days numbered 174. The total sailing time for the circumnavigation was 193 days, 10 hours, beating what was then my previous best time of 203 days in a similar 37’ IOR one-tonner, EGREGIOUS, in 1975-76. Miles sailed between noon GPS positions totaled 23992. Gybing downwind and beating up, the actual number of miles covered over the bottom was greater. This gives an average daily run of 124 miles or just over 5 knots, which is initially disappointing for a former race boat that easily makes 7 and 8 knots, but is mitigated by my usually slowing down at the end of passages to time landfall for dawn; my deliberately sailing slowly the entire thousand mile passage from Darwin, Australia to Bali, Indonesia so I did not arrive before my Indonesian cruising permit became effective; crossing the Equator and the doldrums twice; and an El Nino year in the Pacific Ocean. All that aside It is rare for a boat with a 30’ or less waterline to maintain a six knot average for an entire ocean crossing. As far as I can recall I have done so only once. In 2008 THE HAWKE OF TUONELA sailed 9211 miles during 83 days underway. In 2009 she sailed 14771 miles and was underway 130 days. The longest single non-stop passage was between Port Elizabeth, South Africa, and Falmouth Harbor, Antigua: 6040 miles in 45 days and 5 hours for a daily average of 133.6 miles. In the open ocean I consider a six knot average--144 miles noon to noon--1008 for a week--satisfactory. We had six such weeks: two in the Indian Ocean; one in the South Atlantic; one in the North Atlantic; one crossing the Caribbean; and only one in the Pacific. The best week’s run was 1111 miles while beam reaching with breaking rigging in the northeast trades on the approach to Antigua. There were a total of 62 six knot days, or almost one in three, with the best single day’s run being 175 miles. At the slow end of the continuum, thirty-three full passage days saw runs of less than 100 miles. Of these twenty-five occurred in the Pacific Ocean, with a single worst day’s run of only 52 miles and the two slowest weeks of the entire voyage, 513 and 661 miles, back to back on the final leg from Bora-Bora to New Zealand. weather Our route was westward, passing north of Australia, south of Africa, and through Panama, with about 80% of the sailing before trade winds. THE HAWKE OF TUONELA was not in the trades only for the first and last weeks of the circumnavigation, about three weeks dipping down to South Africa, and twice crossing the doldrums. Back ashore late in 2009 I saw satellite images of the El Nino flow of warmer water from Indonesia east across the Pacific Ocean that results in weak and sometimes reversed trade winds. Sadly I already knew of this first hand. Where on two previous passages from Panama to Nuku Hiva I had some of my fastest sailing ever, with several more than 200 mile days, in 2009 I had some of my slowest. Most days were pleasant enough in the Pacific Ocean that year; but they were distressingly slow. In the Indian Ocean and the Atlantic, the trade winds were normal, and I had my best sailing. This voyage saw my twelfth and thirteenth crossing of the Equator, and even in the Atlantic, the doldrums slowed me more than usual. In the past they have often not slowed me at all. On this voyage THE HAWKE OF TUONELA made an X of her 2002 track from Senegal to Brazil; but where that year, our boat speed dropped for only a few hours between the northeast and southeast trade winds, in 2009 the doldrums were wider and farther north than I have ever before found them, and it took six fickle days to work our way between the trades. Gale force winds occurred only five times and comprised less than 2% of the sailing. Only one of those was in the trade wind belt, when in the Indian Ocean the wind occasionally rose to 34 and 35 knots the first week out of Cocos/Keeling. That wind was behind us and provided fine sailing. The other four came from ahead and were not so fine. One 350 miles east of Durban, South Africa, blew for about twenty hours; 700 miles east of New Zealand the wind gusted to gale force for a few minutes in front of a line squall; and we had gale force winds the final twelve hours back to New Zealand. These were unpleasant, but the winds were only in the 34 to 40 knot range. The only really dangerous sea conditions of the entire circumnavigation occurred 850 miles east of Durban. My temperamental masthead wind unit was not functioning at the time. I have always preferred under to over stating conditions; and based on my experience, which includes being in Force 12 more than a dozen times, this wind blew at least 50 knots and probably 60. After trying to sail against it for a half hour, I gave up, lowered all sail, and turned downwind. THE HAWKE OF TUONELA made 4 and 5 knots in the wrong direction for six hours before the wind decreased to about 40 knots and I was able to turn us around. On a lee shore it could have been serious. In the open ocean, it was only inconvenient. It is common for circumnavigators to have the worst weather of their entire voyages at the very beginning or the end. This is because most circumnavigators start from North America or Europe, whose climates are, except for the hurricane/cyclone/typhoon seasons, much more severe than the Tropics. consumables diesel THE HAWKE OF TUONELA has not been to a fuel dock since 2003. I don’t power very much or run the diesel to charge batteries, for which my solar panels are usually sufficient, so when I need to top off her twenty gallon tank I take a jerry can or two to a filling station. On this voyage I filled one can in Darwin, Australia; one in Bali, Indonesia; two in Durban, South Africa; two in Cristobal, Panama; and one in Nuku Hiva in the Marquesas Islands. Of these, only Durban had a fuel dock. Fuel is available from a barge near Shelter Cove Marina in Cristobal, Panama, which I never found to be manned.. A $50 collapsable trolley bought as an accessory for my airline carry-on backpack proved to be invaluable for transporting jerry cans, laundry, and provisions along shore. In 24,000 miles I used a total of forty gallons of diesel for a respectable 600 miles to the gallon. propane I carry propane in two 10 pound aluminum tanks, one American, one bought in New Zealand, in a dedicated locker in the cockpit. I cook minimally. The stove is seldom on for more than ten minutes a day: five minutes in the morning to heat water for coffee and shaving; five in the evening to boil water for a freeze dry meal. I topped up a propane tank in Darwin and filled one in St. Thomas. Total propane consumption was between 10 and 20 pounds. water Even on long passages I have no difficulty in keeping consumption of fresh water to ½ gallon per day. I carry fresh water in two flexible Nauta tanks. One has a nominal capacity of 23.5 gallons; the other 35.5 gallons; but trapped air prevents them from ever being completely filled. I also carry water in two five gallon jerry cans lashed to a half-bulkhead at the aft ends of the quarter-berths. I do not carry jerry cans or any of the other debris some people do on deck. I use this tank water primarily to rinse my coffee cup and one glass, to brush my teeth, shave, and for a rare fresh water shower. At sea I wash everything else, including myself, in salt water. The dockside water at the Bali Marina, at the anchorage at Cocos/Keeling, and in Nuku Hiva was not potable, and although at every other place I stopped it was, for drinking I carry bottled water. This is relatively expensive, sometimes inconvenient, but provides multiple sources in case of a leak, and enables me easily to keep track of supply. I use one 1.5 liter bottle a day. I also get liquids from boxes of juice; cans of tea, soft drinks, beer; and from a sunset libation that is usually more potent. food My two least favorite parts of sailing around the world are provisioning for long passages and dealing with officials upon arrival, although usually the officials have not caused me problems. I don’t have refrigeration because I don’t want to generate the power to run it, which is also why I don’t have a water maker. I simplify provisioning as much as possible. Breakfast is a box of juice, a vitamin pill, two cups of coffee, and a bowl of uncooked oatmeal with nuts, dried fruit and/or trail mix, and nonfat powered milk and water; dinner is a freeze dry meal. I test these in advance. Some freeze dry meals are terrible; and some are too spicy for a passage where water is limited. In the U.S. I buy online from Camp-Mor. In New Zealand I place a special order at the Opua General Store for 100 or more packages of a good New Zealand brand, Back Country Cuisine, Lunch varies slightly, but usually consists of canned fish or chicken or cheese and crackers. Many cheeses, including the widely available Laughing Cow, last a long time without refrigeration. I carry some fresh fruit for the first week or so; and other things such as snacks, crackers, cups of soup, cookies. In Australia I came across a line of French canned meals, St. Dalfour, that do not require refrigeration or cooking and provide a welcome variety of taste and texture. They include couscous; salmon with vegetables; chicken with vegetables; tuna with pasta; ham and potatoes. I later found St. Dalfour in St. Thomas and French Polynesia. All this is not great dining, but it keeps me alive and healthy. damage Looking at THE HAWKE OF TUONELA on her mooring as I rowed ashore one morning after the circumnavigation, I thought she appeared to be in remarkably good shape and had sustained very little damage. Three items loomed large in my memory: the rigging; the radar backstay mount; and a new spinnaker. By far the most potentially serious of these was the standing rigging. I had all THE HAWKE OF TUONELA’s standing rigging replaced six months before I left New Zealand. Nine thousand miles later in Durban, South Africa, a rigger found a single broken strand on one of the diagonals. With a double-spreader rig, THE HAWKE OF TUONELA has four, and he said to be safe I should replace all of them. I agreed; and he did. Two months and a little over 5,000 miles later the new starboard lower shroud began to break strand by stand just above the swage. I was able to get into Antigua before it failed completely. The rigger there replaced it and noticed a broken strand on the babystay. In St. Thomas I had the babystay replaced. A few months later on the passage from Panama to Nuku Hiva, I heard and then to my disbelief and dismay saw that a strand had broken on the port lower shroud, which was to windward on that passage. I managed to sail to Nuku Hiva and then Raiatea where a French rigger replaced it and all the other diagonals because I no longer trusted any of the work done in Durban. Before and during the circumnavigation, THE HAWKE OF TUONELA was inspected by riggers in New Zealand, South Africa, Antigua, St. Thomas, and Raiatea. All said that such breakage is usually caused by misalignment. All agreed that they could not see anything out of line on THE HAWKE OF TUONELA. Although obvious hypotheses present themselves, including faulty workmanship and/or defective wire, I still have no explanation for our rigging problems, which is somewhat distressing when if I go to sea again it will probably be toward Cape Horn. Glancing aft through the companionway one afternoon in the Indian Ocean, I saw the radar dome dangling at an unusual angle. The gimbal tube had cracked. I was able to get the dome down before it fell. To do so I had to stand on the top of the stern pulpit to remove connecting bolts. Even in moderate conditions, these were probably the most dangerous minutes of the circumnavigation. To slip was to die, and I knew it. I have not had radar on previous boats and, although there are waters in which it is useful, it failed to fulfill my hopes of standing watch for ships while I slept. There were too many false positives, particularly in the very conditions of waves and rain when it would theoretically most useful. I did not miss the absence of radar for the rest of the voyage and don’t know if I will ever replace the mount. The backstay mount was of a make no longer manufactured, perhaps for obvious reasons. The greatest new piece of equipment on this voyage was the Facnor gennaker furling gear, of which I have written previously. It was a complete success and has truly revolutionized the way I sail. I set spinnakers much more frequently on this voyage than ever before; at times even doing so when it became the right sail just before sunset, when in the past with the least doubt I would be taking a spinnaker down for the night. After experimenting with a recut old spinnaker, I ordered a big asymmetrical specifically for the gennaker furling gear and this circumnavigation. The first time I set the new sail on the passage from Opua to Cairns, it lasted less than two hours before splitting all the way across. I was not able to get it to a sailmaker until Darwin. When I set the repaired sail on the passage between Darwin to Bali, it lasted almost six hours before splitting all the way across again, but higher up. At this point the sail was costing me $250 an hour. The next sailmaker in Durban, South Africa, took the sail, returned the next day and told me that the seams were not stitched, only glued. By email from America my sailmaker confirmed this and wrote that he has been only gluing spinnaker seams for years. Well, in this case it didn’t work. The South African stitched all the seams, and I didn’t have any more problems with that sail, whose cost per hour is now reasonable. (suggested break for part 2) The impression that rigging, radar mount, and spinnaker constituted most of the damage sustained during the circumnavigation was quickly dispelled when I went over my passage logs and discovered a great many other relatively minor breakages and repairs, many of which I had dealt with while underway and then, problem solved, forgotten. Both engine cables, shift and throttle, broke; as did the bracket fitting securing them to the engine; and the seacock on the engine raw water intake. Although all these occurred at different times, I link them because all are located in close proximity low in the engine compartment. THE HAWKE OF TUONELA has a shallow bilge. At sea even a small amount of water sloshes around and up, and I think that was the cause of most if not all of these problems. The threads stripped on the tightening bolt on the engine alternator. I jury rigged a sail stop on the alternator bracket to maintain tension on the belt. The Monitor vane steered the boat probably 95% of the voyage. I had three minor problems with it, one of which was my own fault. A few days out from New Zealand I found one of the support tubes was loose. This is secured by a bolt with a nut on the bottom which has a hole drilled through it for a securing wire. On a previous haul-out I had taken the Monitor from the stern for maintenance and forgotten to rewire that nut which had fallen off. I had a spare which I was able to tighten and wire. One night in the Indian Ocean THE HAWKE OF TUONELA went off course and didn’t come back. By flashlight I saw that the arm linking the main gears on the Monitor to the wind vane had become disconnected. After dawn I discovered that a tiny retaining clip was missing. There is no strain on this clip and it fits securely in a groove. I have no idea how it fell off. I had spares, but thought getting one in place in 6’ to 9’ waves was unlikely. I managed to tighten a piece of seizing wire into the groove which held for the remaining 1800 miles to Durban, where in flat calm conditions I did drop one retaining clip into the harbor before managing to get the second one in place. When I removed the servo-rudder from the Monitor at the Raiatea Carenage, I noticed a hairline crack in its latch. I may have hit something with the rudder. I brought a new one back with me from the U.S. It fit perfectly. But when I returned to sea it unlatched at moderate speed. In the owner’s manual I read that new latches sometimes need to be “massaged” with a hammer to ensure a perfect fit. Leaning over the stern, I “massaged.” I also tied some lines around the latch to keep it closed. It remained so for the remainder of the passage. A hinge broke on my forward deck hatch in such a manner that it became easier to replace the entire hatch than repair it. Just as I expect the manufacturers planned. I did this in Durban, and at the same time replaced the smaller deck hatch in the main cabin, which was original equipment and more than thirty years old. Both my Bose cockpit speakers failed soon after leaving New Zealand. Advertised as waterproof, they are not aboard THE HAWKE OF TUONELA. Although I cover them with plastic held in place by hose clamps, these were my second pair. I replaced them in South Africa. Although I was able to listen to music on headphones or by turning up the cabin speakers, music in the cockpit is one of the pleasures of sea life that I missed in 2008. Another sailor once questioned my cutting holes in the cockpit for speakers. This was somewhat surprising coming from a man sailing a catamaran whose cockpit was ten feet above the waterline. The holes for my speakers are 18” above the cockpit sole. THE HAWKE OF TUONELA is a wet boat, but I have never taken water in through the speakers. In the many years I have owned it, my TackTick wireless instrument system has seldom been completely functional. The biggest problem has been the masthead wind unit. I am on my third, This unit worked sporadically in 2008. It was most reliable when in harbor and much less so at sea. There was no discernible pattern to its transmitting or not. Inexplicably it has been working ever since South Africa. I have three solar panels: one of 35 watts fixed on deck forward of the companionway and two of 75 and 85 watts that I move around. The two bigger ones failed during the voyage. I replaced one in St. Thomas; and the other back here in Opua. Other damage or gear that required replacement: spinnaker halyard foul weather pants genoa car electric bilge pump control line on solid boom vang cabin light hard-wired inverter ‘Y’ valve between fresh water tanks support arm on stove top electric barometer LED anchor light mainsail cover tiller cover anti-fouling I painted THE HAWKE OF TUONELA’s bottom with International’s Micron Extra a month before I left New Zealand and did not anti-foul again until after I returned. Except for goose neck barnacles, which from past experience I know will grow on even the freshest anti-fouling, the bottom remained clean for the entire voyage. Goose neck barnacles grew in abundance even above the waterline when the boat was heeled for weeks in the trades on the passage between Port Elizabeth to Antigua and again on the passage from Panama to Nuku Hiva. I spent a couple of afternoons in the water in both places scraping them off with a putty knife. I was particularly impressed with PropSpeed, a coating that in New Zealand must be professionally applied and which I believe is available in the U.S. It is the first anti-fouling for propellers and shafts that I have found effective. The painter in Opua charged me $50 for this service. Nothing more than slime grew on the prop or shaft during the voyage. sails I set only four sails on this circumnavigation: a fully battened mainsail; a 130% furling jib; and two spinnakers. Only the bigger spinnaker was brand new at the beginning of the voyage. The jib had perhaps 5,000 miles on it. The mainsail 3,000. The small spinnaker was old. I’ve already written about my initial problems with the new spinnaker. The leech tape of the small spinnaker required replacing in Durban, and in the Atlantic I glued a few patches over small tears. The UV protection strip on the leech of the jib required a patch at lower spreader level in Raiatea; and the UV protection strip along the foot needs replacing now. The mainsail required no repair. I have come to expect a full circumnavigation from a suit of sails. These have done that and are good for thousands of miles more. places As was my first circumnavigation, my fifth was about sailing and the sea not the land. Excluding the daysailing inside the Great Barrier Reef, I stopped at only twelve ports. Of these, it was my first visit to Cocos/Keeling. All the others I had been to at least three times, although several not for more than twenty years, and I found that the world can change out of all recognition in twenty years. Perhaps it always does. Generally it is more convenient to sail around the world now than it was a generation ago. There are more and better facilities, though as in Benoa, Bali where the small marina occupies what was once the anchorage, this is not an unmixed improvement. Being in the marina, which does not take reservations, is better; but if there is no room in the marina, Benoa is much worse. The biggest changes don’t have to do with shore facilities, but are email and ATMs. If I had to choose between ATMs and GPS, I would not hesitate for an instant. I know how to use a sextant, but getting cash in odd parts of the world used to be an ordeal. Cairns and Darwin, Australia, have both doubled in size since I was last there. It is still possible to anchor off Cairns, but there is a new marina into which you must go to clear with Customs, so I remained there for my week’s stay. Darwin now has thirty story high rise buildings, but most yachts still anchor up to a mile off the friendly Darwin Sailing Club at spring low tides, which are in the range of 25’ to 30’, Bali and South Africa have gone through the greatest cultural changes in the past two decades. In Bali I observed a seismic generational shift, and not for the better, at least in the south of the island where what was once culturally intrinsic is now only performed and sold to tourists. When Carol flew and joined me for a vacation in Bali, we spent a few days ashore in the north of the island which still seemed relatively untouched and wonderfully serene. Since I first sailed to South Africa, apartheid has ended, Nelson Mandala has been released from prison, elected President, retired and grown old. And some hopes have faded. In Durban everyone, black and white, talked of crime. Less so in Port Elizabeth, and I did not stop this time in Cape Town. I was not myself a victim, but other sailors were robbed in broad daylight outside the secured part of Durban’s port. Long before the present growth industry of Somali piracy, I wrote that South Africa is the better way around Africa than heading up the Red Sea. I believe it still is, and I hope the country solves its problems. I was in Antigua a month before Race Week. Falmouth Harbor was nearly full of moored and docked boats of considerable size. I have never before seen so many many mega-yachts in one place. A young Englishman came alongside THE HAWKE OF TUONELA one afternoon in an inflatable. He said he was crewing on a Swan 70, and I had to ask, “Which one?” Swan 70s were figuratively, if not literally, a dime a dozen. THE HAWKE OF TUONELA was the second smallest boat, excluding dinghies, in the harbor. In fact she was smaller than some of the mega-yacht tenders. All of which resulted in mega-yacht prices ashore. Prices that rival those of French Polynesia. The Nautical Almanac was marked up 300% and a tube of sealant ten times. Perhaps needless to say, I bought neither. I paid for my rigging repair, and sailed on. I only went to St. Thomas because it has a zip code to which I could have an order of freeze dry food easily mailed from New Jersey. Charlotte Amalie, too, has been set up for the convenience of mega-yachts and cruise ships and is consequently more inconvenient for the rest of us. Even with well stocked super markets and duty free Laphroaig, It was my least favorite stop of the circumnavigation. This was my third transit of the Panama Canal, all from the Caribbean to the Pacific, and my first under full Panamanian control. Each transit has been different. The first was a one-day transit, which is quite easy to accomplish powering at six knots if the authorities get yachts in the first lock early in the morning. The second was a two day transit, going into the up locks at mid-day and anchoring in late afternoon near the down locks. This time yachts were not scheduled to enter the locks until sunset, emerging into Lake Gatun after dark and powering a mile to tie up to a shipping buoy for the night; starting again the next morning, crossing the lake, and through the down locks to the Pacific just after noon. The two other biggest differences between this and the earlier transits were the cost--$609 for a boat up to 50’ versus about $125 in the past--and the advisers, who formerly were students in the tug boat captain training program. The advisors now are people employed by the Canal Authority in some capacity--both mine operated security patrol boats--who have volunteered and received special training. I found the Panamanians knew their jobs and were friendlier and easier to deal with than past American advisors. This was my seventh, and probably last, sail to French Polynesia, and the first when I did not go to Papeete, which has become charmless. Over the years regulations have proliferated in French Polynesia. In the 1970s you could sail there year round and did not have to post the notorious bond, which is merely a government supported bank racket. For the first time, I was able to post the bond with a credit card at a bank in Nuku Hiva. I got the money back in cash in U.S. dollars when I cleared from Bora-Bora, less about $100 that vanished along the way in various fees. When I first sailed into Nuku Hiva on CHIDIOCK TICHBORNE just before Christmas of 1978, you could not make a telephone call out. Now although the settlement at Taiohae Bay does not seem much bigger, there is wireless Internet covering the often rolly anchorage. On previous voyages I had sailed through the lagoon Raiatea shares with Tahaa and anchored there. This time I went to have my rigging repaired and store the boat for a few months at the Raiatea Carenage while I flew back to the U. S. I give the Raiatea Carenage high marks. The yard did what it said it would do exactly when it said it would do it and at a cost that was not much above world prices. Except for deplorable toilet and shower facilities, It may well be the best boat yard between the United States and New Zealand. Bora-Bora should not be missed, even though its beauty is equalled by its expense. The southern end of the lagoon is so turquoise it turns passing clouds blue. There are two or three pretty good small stores where you can provision for the next passage west, and a couple of places--the Bora-Bora Yacht Club and Bloody Mary’s Restaurant--where you can probably pick up a mooring rather than have to anchor in 90’. Both are distant from the stores, and my collapsible trolley saved my back. One of my favorite snorkeling spots in the world is to the west of Topua Islet just south of the pass into the lagoon. worse In a few ways sailing the world has become worse. French Polynesia is not the only place where there are more regulations. A number of countries now require advance notification of arrival. Australia did so before I left. New Zealand does now. Whether this serves any real purpose is doubtful, but it must be complied with. I fulfilled the Australian requirement by an email to an office in the national capital, Canberra, which neglected to pass it on to the local office in Cairns, who did not expect my arrival. If I had not printed out my email and the automated response confirming its reception in Canberra, I would have been in trouble. This is only one example. Rules and regulations have increased in many parts of the world, which is one of the reasons that I like the open ocean. Although I have not noticed a substantial increase in the numbers of boats crossing the Pacific, both Europe and the Caribbean are much more crowded than they were even ten years ago. And some of the nicest waters in the Caribbean have become problematical because of piracy. At least a quarter of the Indian Ocean is not safe from Somali professional pirates; and as I experienced first-hand, the Caribbean is not the only place where attacks by amateurs on targets of opportunity are increasing. I have never carried a firearm on a boat. I don’t now. Guns create problems clearing in and out and are generally illegal for a visitor to obtain in a foreign country. But I have changed my mind about firearms, and if I were sailing from the U.S. today, I would have one aboard. the essence This has been about details; about that which can be quantified. But the essence of a circumnavigation may be that which can not be quantified: the beauty of the sea and sky; escape from the cacophonous clutter of modern urban life; living to the natural rhythms of sun and seasons; the touch of wind against skin; sails arching up and out beyond your mind. Both Gustav Flaubert and Mies van der Rohe are credited with saying, “God is in the details.” So is the way to the sea.

Details

2010

My fifth circumnavigation was my first entirely in the computer age, which enabled me to compile better statistics than on my earlier voyages.

Although my starting point in New Zealand and the duration of the voyage were unusual, most of my course followed a conventional trade wind circumnavigation and its details may be relevant to others.

some numbers

I sailed from Opua, New Zealand on April 21, 2008, and returned there 537 days later on October 10, 2009,

For slightly more than a third of that time, THE HAWKE OF TUONELA was laid up while I flew back to the United States to spend time with Carol, my wife. The green sloop was at the Durban Marina in South Africa from Sept. 9, 2008 to January 28. 2009; and on the hard at Raiatea Carenage in the Society Islands from June 24 until Sept 9, 2009, for a total of 214 days.

Of the remaining 323 days, THE HAWKE OF TUONELA was underway for 213.

This counts any day in which the boat moved forward, including one of only five miles inside the lagoon at Raiatea; the partial days at the beginnings and ends of passages; and those daysailing between overnight anchorages inside the Great Barrier Reef from Cairns to Cape York, Australia.

Full twenty-four hour passage days numbered 174.

The total sailing time for the circumnavigation was 193 days, 10 hours, beating what was then my previous best time of 203 days in a similar 37’ IOR one-tonner, EGREGIOUS, in 1975-76.

Miles sailed between noon GPS positions totaled 23992. Gybing downwind and beating up, the actual number of miles covered over the bottom was greater.

This gives an average daily run of 124 miles or just over 5 knots, which is initially disappointing for a former race boat that easily makes 7 and 8 knots, but is mitigated by my usually slowing down at the end of passages to time landfall for dawn; my deliberately sailing slowly the entire thousand mile passage from Darwin, Australia to Bali, Indonesia so I did not arrive before my Indonesian cruising permit became effective; crossing the Equator and the doldrums twice; and an El Nino year in the Pacific Ocean.

All that aside It is rare for a boat with a 30’ or less waterline to maintain a six knot average for an entire ocean crossing. As far as I can recall I have done so only once.

In 2008 THE HAWKE OF TUONELA sailed 9211 miles during 83 days underway.

In 2009 she sailed 14771 miles and was underway 130 days.

The longest single non-stop passage was between Port Elizabeth, South Africa, and Falmouth Harbor, Antigua: 6040 miles in 45 days and 5 hours for a daily average of 133.6 miles.

In the open ocean I consider a six knot average--144 miles noon to noon--1008 for a week--satisfactory.

We had six such weeks: two in the Indian Ocean; one in the South Atlantic; one in the North Atlantic; one crossing the Caribbean; and only one in the Pacific.

The best week’s run was 1111 miles while beam reaching with breaking rigging in the northeast trades on the approach to Antigua.

There were a total of 62 six knot days, or almost one in three, with the best single day’s run being 175 miles.

At the slow end of the continuum, thirty-three full passage days saw runs of less than 100 miles. Of these twenty-five occurred in the Pacific Ocean, with a single worst day’s run of only 52 miles and the two slowest weeks of the entire voyage, 513 and 661 miles, back to back on the final leg from Bora-Bora to New Zealand.

weather

Our route was westward, passing north of Australia, south of Africa, and through Panama, with about 80% of the sailing before trade winds. THE HAWKE OF TUONELA was not in the trades only for the first and last weeks of the circumnavigation, about three weeks dipping down to South Africa, and twice crossing the doldrums.

Back ashore late in 2009 I saw satellite images of the El Nino flow of warmer water from Indonesia east across the Pacific Ocean that results in weak and sometimes reversed trade winds. Sadly I already knew of this first hand. Where on two previous passages from Panama to Nuku Hiva I had some of my fastest sailing ever, with several more than 200 mile days, in 2009 I had some of my slowest. Most days were pleasant enough in the Pacific Ocean that year; but they were distressingly slow.

In the Indian Ocean and the Atlantic, the trade winds were normal, and I had my best sailing.

This voyage saw my twelfth and thirteenth crossing of the Equator, and even in the Atlantic, the doldrums slowed me more than usual. In the past they have often not slowed me at all.

On this voyage THE HAWKE OF TUONELA made an X of her 2002 track from Senegal to Brazil; but where that year, our boat speed dropped for only a few hours between the northeast and southeast trade winds, in 2009 the doldrums were wider and farther north than I have ever before found them, and it took six fickle days to work our way between the trades.

Gale force winds occurred only five times and comprised less than 2% of the sailing.

Only one of those was in the trade wind belt, when in the Indian Ocean the wind occasionally rose to 34 and 35 knots the first week out of Cocos/Keeling. That wind was behind us and provided fine sailing.

The other four came from ahead and were not so fine.

One 350 miles east of Durban, South Africa, blew for about twenty hours; 700 miles east of New Zealand the wind gusted to gale force for a few minutes in front of a line squall; and we had gale force winds the final twelve hours back to New Zealand. These were unpleasant, but the winds were only in the 34 to 40 knot range.

The only really dangerous sea conditions of the entire circumnavigation occurred 850 miles east of Durban. My temperamental masthead wind unit was not functioning at the time. I have always preferred under to over stating conditions; and based on my experience, which includes being in Force 12 more than a dozen times, this wind blew at least 50 knots and probably 60. After trying to sail against it for a half hour, I gave up, lowered all sail, and turned downwind. THE HAWKE OF TUONELA made 4 and 5 knots in the wrong direction for six hours before the wind decreased to about 40 knots and I was able to turn us around. On a lee shore it could have been serious. In the open ocean, it was only inconvenient.

It is common for circumnavigators to have the worst weather of their entire voyages at the very beginning or the end. This is because most circumnavigators start from North America or Europe, whose climates are, except for the hurricane/cyclone/typhoon seasons, much more severe than the Tropics.

consumables

diesel

THE HAWKE OF TUONELA has not been to a fuel dock since 2003.

I don’t power very much or run the diesel to charge batteries, for which my solar panels are usually sufficient, so when I need to top off her twenty gallon tank I take a jerry can or two to a filling station.

On this voyage I filled one can in Darwin, Australia; one in Bali, Indonesia; two in Durban, South Africa; two in Cristobal, Panama; and one in Nuku Hiva in the Marquesas Islands. Of these, only Durban had a fuel dock. Fuel is available from a barge near Shelter Cove Marina in Cristobal, Panama, which I never found to be manned..

A $50 collapsable trolley bought as an accessory for my airline carry-on backpack proved to be invaluable for transporting jerry cans, laundry, and provisions along shore.

In 24,000 miles I used a total of forty gallons of diesel for a respectable 600 miles to the gallon.

propane

I carry propane in two 10 pound aluminum tanks, one American, one bought in New Zealand, in a dedicated locker in the cockpit.

I cook minimally. The stove is seldom on for more than ten minutes a day: five minutes in the morning to heat water for coffee and shaving; five in the evening to boil water for a freeze dry meal.

I topped up a propane tank in Darwin and filled one in St. Thomas.

Total propane consumption was between 10 and 20 pounds.

water

Even on long passages I have no difficulty in keeping consumption of fresh water to ½ gallon per day.

I carry fresh water in two flexible Nauta tanks. One has a nominal capacity of 23.5 gallons; the other 35.5 gallons; but trapped air prevents them from ever being completely filled.

I also carry water in two five gallon jerry cans lashed to a half-bulkhead at the aft ends of the quarter-berths.

I do not carry jerry cans or any of the other debris some people do on deck.

I use this tank water primarily to rinse my coffee cup and one glass, to brush my teeth, shave, and for a rare fresh water shower.

At sea I wash everything else, including myself, in salt water.

The dockside water at the Bali Marina, at the anchorage at Cocos/Keeling, and in Nuku Hiva was not potable, and although at every other place I stopped it was, for drinking I carry bottled water. This is relatively expensive, sometimes inconvenient, but provides multiple sources in case of a leak, and enables me easily to keep track of supply.

I use one 1.5 liter bottle a day.

I also get liquids from boxes of juice; cans of tea, soft drinks, beer; and from a sunset libation that is usually more potent.

food

My two least favorite parts of sailing around the world are provisioning for long passages and dealing with officials upon arrival, although usually the officials have not caused me problems.

I don’t have refrigeration because I don’t want to generate the power to run it, which is also why I don’t have a water maker.

I simplify provisioning as much as possible.

Breakfast is a box of juice, a vitamin pill, two cups of coffee, and a bowl of uncooked oatmeal with nuts, dried fruit and/or trail mix, and nonfat powered milk and water; dinner is a freeze dry meal.

I test these in advance. Some freeze dry meals are terrible; and some are too spicy for a passage where water is limited.

In the U.S. I buy online from Camp-Mor. In New Zealand I place a special order at the Opua General Store for 100 or more packages of a good New Zealand brand, Back Country Cuisine,

Lunch varies slightly, but usually consists of canned fish or chicken or cheese and crackers. Many cheeses, including the widely available Laughing Cow, last a long time without refrigeration.

I carry some fresh fruit for the first week or so; and other things such as snacks, crackers, cups of soup, cookies.

In Australia I came across a line of French canned meals, St. Dalfour, that do not require refrigeration or cooking and provide a welcome variety of taste and texture. They include couscous; salmon with vegetables; chicken with vegetables; tuna with pasta; ham and potatoes.

I later found St. Dalfour in St. Thomas and French Polynesia.

All this is not great dining, but it keeps me alive and healthy.

damage

Looking at THE HAWKE OF TUONELA on her mooring as I rowed ashore one morning after the circumnavigation, I thought she appeared to be in remarkably good shape and had sustained very little damage.

Three items loomed large in my memory: the rigging; the radar backstay mount; and a new spinnaker.

By far the most potentially serious of these was the standing rigging.

I had all THE HAWKE OF TUONELA’s standing rigging replaced six months before I left New Zealand.

Nine thousand miles later in Durban, South Africa, a rigger found a single broken strand on one of the diagonals. With a double-spreader rig, THE HAWKE OF TUONELA has four, and he said to be safe I should replace all of them. I agreed; and he did.

Two months and a little over 5,000 miles later the new starboard lower shroud began to break strand by stand just above the swage. I was able to get into Antigua before it failed completely.

The rigger there replaced it and noticed a broken strand on the babystay.

In St. Thomas I had the babystay replaced.

A few months later on the passage from Panama to Nuku Hiva, I heard and then to my disbelief and dismay saw that a strand had broken on the port lower shroud, which was to windward on that passage. I managed to sail to Nuku Hiva and then Raiatea where a French rigger replaced it and all the other diagonals because I no longer trusted any of the work done in Durban.

Before and during the circumnavigation, THE HAWKE OF TUONELA was inspected by riggers in New Zealand, South Africa, Antigua, St. Thomas, and Raiatea. All said that such breakage is usually caused by misalignment. All agreed that they could not see anything out of line on THE HAWKE OF TUONELA.

Although obvious hypotheses present themselves, including faulty workmanship and/or defective wire, I still have no explanation for our rigging problems, which is somewhat distressing when if I go to sea again it will probably be toward Cape Horn.

Glancing aft through the companionway one afternoon in the Indian Ocean, I saw the radar dome dangling at an unusual angle. The gimbal tube had cracked. I was able to get the dome down before it fell.

To do so I had to stand on the top of the stern pulpit to remove connecting bolts. Even in moderate conditions, these were probably the most dangerous minutes of the circumnavigation. To slip was to die, and I knew it.

I have not had radar on previous boats and, although there are waters in which it is useful, it failed to fulfill my hopes of standing watch for ships while I slept. There were too many false positives, particularly in the very conditions of waves and rain when it would theoretically most useful. I did not miss the absence of radar for the rest of the voyage and don’t know if I will ever replace the mount.

The backstay mount was of a make no longer manufactured, perhaps for obvious reasons.

The greatest new piece of equipment on this voyage was the Facnor gennaker furling gear, of which I have written previously. It was a complete success and has truly revolutionized the way I sail. I set spinnakers much more frequently on this voyage than ever before; at times even doing so when it became the right sail just before sunset, when in the past with the least doubt I would be taking a spinnaker down for the night.

After experimenting with a recut old spinnaker, I ordered a big asymmetrical specifically for the gennaker furling gear and this circumnavigation.

The first time I set the new sail on the passage from Opua to Cairns, it lasted less than two hours before splitting all the way across.

I was not able to get it to a sailmaker until Darwin. When I set the repaired sail on the passage between Darwin to Bali, it lasted almost six hours before splitting all the way across again, but higher up.

At this point the sail was costing me $250 an hour.

The next sailmaker in Durban, South Africa, took the sail, returned the next day and told me that the seams were not stitched, only glued. By email from America my sailmaker confirmed this and wrote that he has been only gluing spinnaker seams for years. Well, in this case it didn’t work. The South African stitched all the seams, and I didn’t have any more problems with that sail, whose cost per hour is now reasonable.

(suggested break for part 2)

The impression that rigging, radar mount, and spinnaker constituted most of the damage sustained during the circumnavigation was quickly dispelled when I went over my passage logs and discovered a great many other relatively minor breakages and repairs, many of which I had dealt with while underway and then, problem solved, forgotten.

Both engine cables, shift and throttle, broke; as did the bracket fitting securing them to the engine; and the seacock on the engine raw water intake.

Although all these occurred at different times, I link them because all are located in close proximity low in the engine compartment. THE HAWKE OF TUONELA has a shallow bilge. At sea even a small amount of water sloshes around and up, and I think that was the cause of most if not all of these problems.

The threads stripped on the tightening bolt on the engine alternator. I jury rigged a sail stop on the alternator bracket to maintain tension on the belt.

The Monitor vane steered the boat probably 95% of the voyage. I had three minor problems with it, one of which was my own fault.

A few days out from New Zealand I found one of the support tubes was loose. This is secured by a bolt with a nut on the bottom which has a hole drilled through it for a securing wire. On a previous haul-out I had taken the Monitor from the stern for maintenance and forgotten to rewire that nut which had fallen off. I had a spare which I was able to tighten and wire.

One night in the Indian Ocean THE HAWKE OF TUONELA went off course and didn’t come back.

By flashlight I saw that the arm linking the main gears on the Monitor to the wind vane had become disconnected. After dawn I discovered that a tiny retaining clip was missing. There is no strain on this clip and it fits securely in a groove. I have no idea how it fell off. I had spares, but thought getting one in place in 6’ to 9’ waves was unlikely. I managed to tighten a piece of seizing wire into the groove which held for the remaining 1800 miles to Durban, where in flat calm conditions I did drop one retaining clip into the harbor before managing to get the second one in place.

When I removed the servo-rudder from the Monitor at the Raiatea Carenage, I noticed a hairline crack in its latch. I may have hit something with the rudder. I brought a new one back with me from the U.S. It fit perfectly. But when I returned to sea it unlatched at moderate speed. In the owner’s manual I read that new latches sometimes need to be “massaged” with a hammer to ensure a perfect fit. Leaning over the stern, I “massaged.” I also tied some lines around the latch to keep it closed. It remained so for the remainder of the passage.

A hinge broke on my forward deck hatch in such a manner that it became easier to replace the entire hatch than repair it. Just as I expect the manufacturers planned. I did this in Durban, and at the same time replaced the smaller deck hatch in the main cabin, which was original equipment and more than thirty years old.

Both my Bose cockpit speakers failed soon after leaving New Zealand. Advertised as waterproof, they are not aboard THE HAWKE OF TUONELA. Although I cover them with plastic held in place by hose clamps, these were my second pair. I replaced them in South Africa.

Although I was able to listen to music on headphones or by turning up the cabin speakers, music in the cockpit is one of the pleasures of sea life that I missed in 2008.

Another sailor once questioned my cutting holes in the cockpit for speakers. This was somewhat surprising coming from a man sailing a catamaran whose cockpit was ten feet above the waterline.

The holes for my speakers are 18” above the cockpit sole. THE HAWKE OF TUONELA is a wet boat, but I have never taken water in through the speakers.

In the many years I have owned it, my TackTick wireless instrument system has seldom been completely functional. The biggest problem has been the masthead wind unit. I am on my third, This unit worked sporadically in 2008. It was most reliable when in harbor and much less so at sea. There was no discernible pattern to its transmitting or not.

Inexplicably it has been working ever since South Africa.

I have three solar panels: one of 35 watts fixed on deck forward of the companionway and two of 75 and 85 watts that I move around. The two bigger ones failed during the voyage. I replaced one in St. Thomas; and the other back here in Opua.

Other damage or gear that required replacement:

spinnaker halyard

foul weather pants

genoa car

electric bilge pump

control line on solid boom vang

cabin light

hard-wired inverter

‘Y’ valve between fresh water tanks

support arm on stove top

electric barometer

LED anchor light

mainsail cover

tiller cover

anti-fouling

I painted THE HAWKE OF TUONELA’s bottom with International’s Micron Extra a month before I left New Zealand and did not anti-foul again until after I returned.

Except for goose neck barnacles, which from past experience I know will grow on even the freshest anti-fouling, the bottom remained clean for the entire voyage.

Goose neck barnacles grew in abundance even above the waterline when the boat was heeled for weeks in the trades on the passage between Port Elizabeth to Antigua and again on the passage from Panama to Nuku Hiva. I spent a couple of afternoons in the water in both places scraping them off with a putty knife.

I was particularly impressed with PropSpeed, a coating that in New Zealand must be professionally applied and which I believe is available in the U.S. It is the first anti-fouling for propellers and shafts that I have found effective. The painter in Opua charged me $50 for this service. Nothing more than slime grew on the prop or shaft during the voyage.

sails

I set only four sails on this circumnavigation: a fully battened mainsail; a 130% furling jib; and two spinnakers. Only the bigger spinnaker was brand new at the beginning of the voyage. The jib had perhaps 5,000 miles on it. The mainsail 3,000. The small spinnaker was old.

I’ve already written about my initial problems with the new spinnaker.

The leech tape of the small spinnaker required replacing in Durban, and in the Atlantic I glued a few patches over small tears.

The UV protection strip on the leech of the jib required a patch at lower spreader level in Raiatea; and the UV protection strip along the foot needs replacing now.

The mainsail required no repair.

I have come to expect a full circumnavigation from a suit of sails. These have done that and are good for thousands of miles more.

places

As was my first circumnavigation, my fifth was about sailing and the sea not the land.

Excluding the daysailing inside the Great Barrier Reef, I stopped at only twelve ports. Of these, it was my first visit to Cocos/Keeling. All the others I had been to at least three times, although several not for more than twenty years, and I found that the world can change out of all recognition in twenty years. Perhaps it always does.

Generally it is more convenient to sail around the world now than it was a generation ago. There are more and better facilities, though as in Benoa, Bali where the small marina occupies what was once the anchorage, this is not an unmixed improvement. Being in the marina, which does not take reservations, is better; but if there is no room in the marina, Benoa is much worse.

The biggest changes don’t have to do with shore facilities, but are email and ATMs. If I had to choose between ATMs and GPS, I would not hesitate for an instant. I know how to use a sextant, but getting cash in odd parts of the world used to be an ordeal.

Cairns and Darwin, Australia, have both doubled in size since I was last there.

It is still possible to anchor off Cairns, but there is a new marina into which you must go to clear with Customs, so I remained there for my week’s stay. Darwin now has thirty story high rise buildings, but most yachts still anchor up to a mile off the friendly Darwin Sailing Club at spring low tides, which are in the range of 25’ to 30’,

Bali and South Africa have gone through the greatest cultural changes in the past two decades. In Bali I observed a seismic generational shift, and not for the better, at least in the south of the island where what was once culturally intrinsic is now only performed and sold to tourists. When Carol flew and joined me for a vacation in Bali, we spent a few days ashore in the north of the island which still seemed relatively untouched and wonderfully serene.

Since I first sailed to South Africa, apartheid has ended, Nelson Mandala has been released from prison, elected President, retired and grown old. And some hopes have faded.

In Durban everyone, black and white, talked of crime. Less so in Port Elizabeth, and I did not stop this time in Cape Town. I was not myself a victim, but other sailors were robbed in broad daylight outside the secured part of Durban’s port.

Long before the present growth industry of Somali piracy, I wrote that South Africa is the better way around Africa than heading up the Red Sea. I believe it still is, and I hope the country solves its problems.

I was in Antigua a month before Race Week.

Falmouth Harbor was nearly full of moored and docked boats of considerable size. I have never before seen so many many mega-yachts in one place. A young Englishman came alongside THE HAWKE OF TUONELA one afternoon in an inflatable. He said he was crewing on a Swan 70, and I had to ask, “Which one?” Swan 70s were figuratively, if not literally, a dime a dozen. THE HAWKE OF TUONELA was the second smallest boat, excluding dinghies, in the harbor. In fact she was smaller than some of the mega-yacht tenders.

All of which resulted in mega-yacht prices ashore. Prices that rival those of French Polynesia. The Nautical Almanac was marked up 300% and a tube of sealant ten times. Perhaps needless to say, I bought neither. I paid for my rigging repair, and sailed on.

I only went to St. Thomas because it has a zip code to which I could have an order of freeze dry food easily mailed from New Jersey. Charlotte Amalie, too, has been set up for the convenience of mega-yachts and cruise ships and is consequently more inconvenient for the rest of us. Even with well stocked super markets and duty free Laphroaig, It was my least favorite stop of the circumnavigation.

This was my third transit of the Panama Canal, all from the Caribbean to the Pacific, and my first under full Panamanian control.

Each transit has been different. The first was a one-day transit, which is quite easy to accomplish powering at six knots if the authorities get yachts in the first lock early in the morning. The second was a two day transit, going into the up locks at mid-day and anchoring in late afternoon near the down locks. This time yachts were not scheduled to enter the locks until sunset, emerging into Lake Gatun after dark and powering a mile to tie up to a shipping buoy for the night; starting again the next morning, crossing the lake, and through the down locks to the Pacific just after noon.

The two other biggest differences between this and the earlier transits were the cost--$609 for a boat up to 50’ versus about $125 in the past--and the advisers, who formerly were students in the tug boat captain training program. The advisors now are people employed by the Canal Authority in some capacity--both mine operated security patrol boats--who have volunteered and received special training. I found the Panamanians knew their jobs and were friendlier and easier to deal with than past American advisors.

This was my seventh, and probably last, sail to French Polynesia, and the first when I did not go to Papeete, which has become charmless.

Over the years regulations have proliferated in French Polynesia.

In the 1970s you could sail there year round and did not have to post the notorious bond, which is merely a government supported bank racket. For the first time, I was able to post the bond with a credit card at a bank in Nuku Hiva. I got the money back in cash in U.S. dollars when I cleared from Bora-Bora, less about $100 that vanished along the way in various fees.

When I first sailed into Nuku Hiva on CHIDIOCK TICHBORNE just before Christmas of 1978, you could not make a telephone call out. Now although the settlement at Taiohae Bay does not seem much bigger, there is wireless Internet covering the often rolly anchorage.

On previous voyages I had sailed through the lagoon Raiatea shares with Tahaa and anchored there. This time I went to have my rigging repaired and store the boat for a few months at the Raiatea Carenage while I flew back to the U. S.

I give the Raiatea Carenage high marks. The yard did what it said it would do exactly when it said it would do it and at a cost that was not much above world prices. Except for deplorable toilet and shower facilities, It may well be the best boat yard between the United States and New Zealand.

Bora-Bora should not be missed, even though its beauty is equalled by its expense. The southern end of the lagoon is so turquoise it turns passing clouds blue.

There are two or three pretty good small stores where you can provision for the next passage west, and a couple of places--the Bora-Bora Yacht Club and Bloody Mary’s Restaurant--where you can probably pick up a mooring rather than have to anchor in 90’. Both are distant from the stores, and my collapsible trolley saved my back.

One of my favorite snorkeling spots in the world is to the west of Topua Islet just south of the pass into the lagoon.

worse

In a few ways sailing the world has become worse.

French Polynesia is not the only place where there are more regulations. A number of countries now require advance notification of arrival. Australia did so before I left. New Zealand does now. Whether this serves any real purpose is doubtful, but it must be complied with.

I fulfilled the Australian requirement by an email to an office in the national capital, Canberra, which neglected to pass it on to the local office in Cairns, who did not expect my arrival. If I had not printed out my email and the automated response confirming its reception in Canberra, I would have been in trouble.

This is only one example. Rules and regulations have increased in many parts of the world, which is one of the reasons that I like the open ocean.

Although I have not noticed a substantial increase in the numbers of boats crossing the Pacific, both Europe and the Caribbean are much more crowded than they were even ten years ago. And some of the nicest waters in the Caribbean have become problematical because of piracy.

At least a quarter of the Indian Ocean is not safe from Somali professional pirates; and as I experienced first-hand, the Caribbean is not the only place where attacks by amateurs on targets of opportunity are increasing.

I have never carried a firearm on a boat. I don’t now. Guns create problems clearing in and out and are generally illegal for a visitor to obtain in a foreign country. But I have changed my mind about firearms, and if I were sailing from the U.S. today, I would have one aboard.

the essence

This has been about details; about that which can be quantified.

But the essence of a circumnavigation may be that which can not be quantified: the beauty of the sea and sky; escape from the cacophonous clutter of modern urban life; living to the natural rhythms of sun and seasons; the touch of wind against skin; sails arching up and out beyond your mind.

Both Gustav Flaubert and Mies van der Rohe are credited with saying, “God is in the details.” So is the way to the sea.