This article originally appeared in the December 2009 issueWhitecaps 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
As I knelt beside the open cockpit locker of my 36-foot Pearson cutter Sonata, I could hear the gentle whir of my freshwater pump. It didnt sound normal. I reached down and felt the pump housing. The pump was in constant-cycle mode and running hot. It could pump until it burned out and still fail to pressurize the freshwater system I thought I had just finished
I could barely hear the robotic voice of the NOAA weather radio over the engine as I sat at the nav station, groggy from an overnight passage across the Gulf of Maine. It was just past dawn on a late September day, and I was taking Sonata, my Pearson 36 cutter, south for the winter. One of my crew was asleep in the saloon; the other was on watch in the cockpit.For
The sun shone a milky white. Its weak rays were barely able to drive off the damp chill of the early afternoon as we made our way eastward in the Deer Isle Thorofare, a passage snaking between Deer Isle and the beautiful smaller islands of Merchant Row in Down East Maine. I carefully checked the chart against the red and green buoys marking the channel, mindful that straying off course could mean
The sun shone a milky white. Its weak rays were barely able to drive off the damp chill of the early afternoon as we made our way eastward in the Deer Isle Thorofare, a passage snaking between Deer Isle and the beautiful smaller islands of Merchant Row in Down East Maine. I carefully checked the chart against the red and green buoys marking the channel, mindful that straying off course could mean
The sun shone a milky white. Its weak rays were barely able to drive off the damp chill of the early afternoon as we made our way eastward in the Deer Isle Thorofare, a passage snaking between Deer Isle and the beautiful smaller islands of Merchant Row in Down East Maine. I carefully checked the chart against the red and green buoys marking the channel, mindful that straying off course could mean
I steered Sonata, my 1981 Pearson 36 cutter, out of the landcut linking Goose Creek to Bay River, in eastern North Carolina. Turning to my wife, Liz, I triumphantly announced, Were done! No more landcuts till next spring.Liz smiled quizzically. What? she asked. You mean you dont like landcuts? Imagine that.Wed navigated many landcuts along the
A gentle west wind rippled the placid waters of Silver Bay, glistening in the light of a full moon that truly did make the bay look silvery. I was sitting alone in the cockpit, a cold beer in hand. Beads of condensation from the bottle dampened my palm. It was after Labor Day and the anchorage was deserted, except for me and my two Elizabeths.A flash of light caught my
A gentle west wind rippled the placid waters of Silver Bay, glistening in the light of a full moon that truly did make the bay look silvery. I was sitting alone in the cockpit, a cold beer in hand. Beads of condensation from the bottle dampened my palm. It was after Labor Day and the anchorage was deserted, except for me and my two Elizabeths.A flash of light caught my
The Throgs Neck Bridge cast a shadow over the East River off the bow of StewardShip, my friend Dave Stewards C&C 29 MK II, a fast-yet-comfortable cruiser. A stiff southerly breeze bearing funky scents of the Big Apple filled the sails, speeding us along.Standing at the wheel, I glanced up at the underside of the span, experiencing the usual trick of the eye
As the second fleet of starters get under way, a quick look at the tracker and the prep that goes into a race of over 2,000 open ocean miles.
Doubting his choices one chilly day, a sailor wonders whether he’ll have to make changes.
Between the slow Marion-Bermuda and glacial Annapolis-Newport, there have been some real drifters on the Atlantic this summer. Still, however unwelcome for racing purposes, pure
Catching and prepping your own dinner while underway is one of those one of a kind cruiser experiences. The process gets a whole lot better with the right gear.
In her first Marion-Bermuda Race as skipper of a Navy 44, Nancy Rhodes and her team of U.S. Naval Academy midshipmen aboard Integrity stuck to their strategy—even when things looked grim—and walked away with bragging rights and an armful of silver.
In addition to having the trophy for fastest circumnavigation named after him, what other Junes Verne reference might be found in the modern sailor’s vocabulary?A)
Managing Editor Lydia Mullan sits down with the winningest navigator in Transpac history for a breakdown of what this year’s fleet can expect.
By Tim Queeney (304pp, St. Martin’s Press, $27.00) In ancient times man responded to the urgent need for food, transportation, and trade by building all
The Marion-Bermuda Race wrapped up yesterday after a slow approach to the finish, but it certainly wasn’t a drifter for the whole way. The first
48 years after the first Marion-Bermuda race, 20 boats competed in this summer’s event, including the J42 Dianthus, on which SAIL Editor in Chief Wendy Mitman Clarke and crew won the Class A division.
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