[The Montana Professor 15.1, Fall 2004 <http://mtprof.msun.edu>]

Sailing Into Retirement

Laurence H. Berger
Psychology (Emeritus)
UM-Missoula

In the middle of the night while we were watching the Americas Cup race from Australia on TV, my wife, Suzann, turned to me and said, "Why don't we?" A bit bewildered, I said, "Why don't we what?" "Go sailing," she said. She knew that I had always harbored a dream of going ocean sailing, living aboard our own boat, sailing from harbor to harbor, visiting exotic places. She also knew that I had given up any realistic expectation of fulfilling that fantasy. For her part, she had always considered such a life possible only for the very rich, not for those of the modest means afforded by faculty salaries.

We talked. I was content in my work, but I had been doing it for a long time and while there was still some excitement, there was also a measure of tedium. Retired faculty members to whom I had talked had urged me to retire as soon as I could, saying that it would be one of the best decisions I would ever make. Suzann was ready to retire. It sounded good to us, so we started thinking in those terms. It seemed reasonable to set a tentative time for retirement at 25 years of service, which was still a number of years in the future. That would give us ample time to consider practicalities and alternatives, and should we really decide to do it, to prepare for a major transition.

Having made this fantastic, fragile plan to retire as soon as we could and go sailing to interesting places, we thought it would be a good idea to learn how to sail first. As our initial step toward the cruising life, we would become serious hobby sailors. For that we needed a boat. While in graduate school, we had had for a while a small, styrofoam, surfboard-like boat with a lateen mylar sail, but that could not really be counted. Missoula can not be ranked among the sailboating capitals of the world; sailboat availability is somewhat limited. We kept track of local ads for sailboats, as well as those in Seattle. Seattle ads turned out to be no help. The pre-Internet time delay was too long. However, we found a boat in Missoula that fit our needs perfectly.

The Glenmore sailboat was 16 feet long, unballasted and light, and came with a trailer. It was designed to plane. It was also very tender (tippy), being unballasted; it would heel (tip--perilously, it seemed to us) at the slightest provocation. The combination was just what we needed. It was easy to take to water and to launch and retrieve it. The tenderness emphasized everything we did wrong and alerted us to all the wind and water factors that affect sailing.

It was so reactive to the elements that in the beginning we did not even raise the mainsail. We sailed with its tiny little jib sail only. Kind, helpful people would bring their boats along side of us and ask if we were in trouble and offer help. We had to admit rather embarrassingly that we were novice sailors and extreme cowards who were trying to avoid an involuntary dip in the cold water of Flathead Lake. As our embarrassment increased, we finally got over the threshold, raised the main sail on an almost windless day and found that it was not as scary as we had feared.

As our experience grew, we began to feel as though we might actually get reasonably proficient. We almost went over a few times, due to the wind shifts that make sailing on Flathead Lake so interesting. We found that going around promontories could be quite exciting. As we approached comfortably on one tack, the wind could become curly and shift to the opposite side, causing the boat to reverse its heel strongly, forcing us to duck the swinging boom and leap for the steeply uphill side of the boat. About the time we gained the new tack and side, the wind might switch back to the original side, requiring us to duck and climb again, while the mast swung like an upside-down pendulum.

With practice, we became competent enough to get the Glenmore up onto the plane, so that I could lie hanging out as water ballast on the windward side supported by the trapeze (a sling suspended from the masthead) and look under the bow of the boat, which was out of the water. When planing, the centerboard would hum a tenor tune, telling us things were going well. Our little barque turned out to be one of the fastest sailboats on Flathead Lake.

The Glenmore was not only instructive; it was a load of fun once we were able to use it. However, it had two drawbacks. First, we had to be on the tips of our toes all the time, ready to loosen the sheets if we got hit by a big gust of wind, so we were approaching adrenal exhaustion by the end of a long day of sailing. Second, it was strictly a daysailer. We wanted a boat that was more stable and that we could sleep on overnight. The Glenmore had done its job beautifully, but we needed to go the next step toward a cruising boat. Boat hunting again.

This time we ran into the same searching problems again, and again found the perfect boat for us right in Missoula. While picking up a prescription for my mother, I got to talking to the clerk in the pharmacy. She happened to be the wife of a School of Pharmacy faculty member with whom I was slightly acquainted because Pharmacy and Psychology shared the same building. He knew of a boat, she said, that a friend was trying to sell and might just meet our needs. It turned out that the boat was exactly what we were looking for and was also within our means. It was a 21-foot Clipper Marine, designed by Crealock, one of the most respected maritime architects for yacht design. It was named Chance, which we thought was most appropriate. It came with a trailer, and it had a swing keel so that when trailing it, it had a low profile for easy towing. We bought her, and moved one step closer to cruising.

We kept her on Flathead during the sailing seasons and brought her back to Missoula for the rest of the year. We added a solar cell and battery for some conveniences, a small galley for meals, a depth sounder, Loran for navigation, and a few other conveniences. It would have been nice to add a bit more headroom, but we could not have everything. One of the best things about Chance was that it was not perfect. We learned about her imperfections and corrected them, and that was instructive.

A topping lift is a line that runs from the top of the mast to the end of the mainsail boom and prevents the boom from dropping to the deck when the mainsail is lowered. Chance did not have one. So when we lowered the sail, the boom, along with the sail, ended up in the small cockpit. Trying to accomplish anything when almost completely draped in loose sail, while being pushed around by a swinging boom, is a situation assiduously to be avoided. So we rigged a topping lift and made our lives easier.

We trailed the boat over to Lake Pend Oreille and uncovered another imperfection. While we were sailing, still some distance from where we had to go, the wind increased. And increased. We made it back, but only after being severely stressed. The problem was that Chance had never had its mainsail rigged for reefing, so the sail area could not be decreased when the wind got too strong. When one realizes that the force of the wind increases as the square of the wind speed, it is apparent that a moderate increase in wind speed can make a large difference in handling the boat. We studied reefing schemes and rigged the sail for slab reefing, so that sail area could be reduced quickly and easily. We also quickly learned the wisdom of the advice that the time to reef a sail is the first time you think about doing it. Do not wait. After that, when the wind got strong we just reefed the main and Chance was easily handled.

Another problem was discovered one Fourth of July on Flathead when we had our main sail up and the big Genoa jib out in light wind. A burst of wind came roaring down through a draw and took us by complete surprise. The only warning we had was a little ruffling of the surface of the water. We watched it approach with no appreciation of the real strength of the wind causing it. When it hit, it caught the sails and heeled the boat, almost standing her on her beam. We were able to turn and run with the wind, but it was still overpowering the boat. We dropped the main sail with little problem, but when we tried to drop the jib it would not come down all the way. We had to crawl out on the bow and haul it down by hand, which was neither easy nor safe with the boat being manhandled by the wind in the jib. To fix that problem, we rigged a downhaul line to the jib halyard and ran it back to the cockpit so that when we released the jib halyard, if the jib did not come down on its own, we had a positive means of dragging it down from the safety of the cockpit.

Chance came with a gorgeous wine-red spinnaker. I do not think the previous owner knew how to use it, because all the rigging was not there. I know we did not know how to use it. We did not even know how to hook up the spinnaker pole. By reading we found what rigging was missing and how to hook everything up. We learned little by little, and the spinnaker became our favorite sail. There is nothing quite like being pulled along by a spinnaker billowing out in front, especially when it is backlit by the sun and illuminated in glowing colors.

We towed Chance down to Lake Powell one spring break. We left in a blizzard, with the cockpit filled with snow. We spent a sun-drenched week on the water getting reacquainted with UV rays. We did not actually get much sailing in because of a lack of wind, but our little outboard motor pushed us along just fine, and we explored much of the lake. We also returned to a blizzard. I did not mind my sun-split nose a bit.

One summer, we towed her over to Puget Sound and sailed in the San Juan Islands for a wonderful week. We launched Chance in Anacortes and started island hopping. We spent the week following whims. The weather cooperated with moderate winds, no rain, and only one morning with early fog thrown in for romantic effect. We learned a bit, too.

We were able to anchor in water too shallow for other boats because of our swing keel. That advantage was one that we would remember when picking a cruising boat. The experience with tides and tidal currents was useful later on, as well. Using charts to find our way in unfamiliar waters was new to us. We learned a bit about piloting, and we got introduced to electronic navigation using the Loran system. The experience gave us a taste of what cruising would be like, and we liked it. Our confidence in our retirement plan solidified and gained a measure of reality: we began seriously to believe that we could do it. It was time, then, to move on to the next step, the selection of an ocean cruising sailboat.

All in all, we got a lot of use out of Chance, and we learned a lot while sailing her. We kept Chance until we left Missoula. While learning from sailing our boats, we were also learning by reading books and magazines about boats, sailing, cruising, and everything related we could think of. There was no problem in finding out what the opinions of boating experts were. Boaters have strong opinions about boats and sailing. On any given topic there are a variety of strongly held opinions, each supported by selected data. The problem was always in trying to draw some conclusions from conflicting opinions. So we kept busy delving through opinions about hull design, hull material, sail configurations, keels, rudders, engines, propellers, interior design, and on and on about the countless aspects of sail boating.

It would be pointless to try to go through in detail the pros and cons and trade-offs associated with our considerations. The main consideration was always safety. Safety is related to many things. Hull strength, hull and sail configuration, and engine characteristics are some of the more salient factors. We narrowed the range of consideration.

Hull strength needed to be paramount. It should be able to withstand considerable impact. Grounding is a not uncommon occurrence, and there are many things that can be hit in the ocean, from rocks and reefs to steel containers that lurk just barely submerged after falling off freighters. Many yachts are built for speed and have thin hulls that are fine for light waters, but not for impacts with solid objects. We decided that the hull would have to be heavy fiberglass or steel.

Hull configurations vary quite a bit in several ways. A cruising boat should have considerable volume and carrying capacity, which means it should be fairly beamy (wide). Sailboats that are built for speed tend to be long and narrow. Just as the hull should be as impervious to damage as possible, so should the keel and rudder. For performance considerations, a thin, deep keel and a separate spade rudder provide the best upwind performance and maneuverability. They are also the most vulnerable to damage. A deep keel is also a disadvantage when sailing in shallow waters, such as the Bahamas. We decided that an old-fashioned full-length keel with a protected rudder would be best. The trade-off in reduced performance would be worth the gain in safety and the ability to sail in shallower waters.

There were a number of possible sail configurations that would be acceptable. A cutter rig with two head sails and one mainsail would be fine. A ketch rig with two masts, a mainsail and a mizzen sail, as well as two head sails, would also be fine. We ruled out gaff-rigging for simplicity's sake. Gaff-rigs have a spar at both the top and bottom of the sail, which adds complexity to sail handling. Simpler is better in an emergency. So we decided on the traditional Bermuda rig for a combination of performance and simplicity.

We decided that we could not really make any decisions about the interior design of the boat. Like a house, the only real test of how one will feel in it is to be in it. Looking at a floor plan may give one a notion, but a real appreciation can be obtained only by being in it and experiencing the gestalt.

We took every opportunity to visit marinas and yacht brokerages to see yachts and go inside them. We had traveled up and down the west coast visiting friends and relatives, and now we added boat yards to our list of stops. Yacht brokers are glad to show boats and talk about the relative strengths and weaknesses of them. Even boaters one meets on the docks are often eager to talk boats and boating with interested people. There is a lot of information, good and bad, to be gleaned out there. The problem, as always, is to separate the good from the bad. After several years, we had narrowed the field of consideration quite a bit. Then we were blind-sided by something that opened the field up again.

I had first discovered catamarans when I was in high school. They seemed a remarkably sensible design to me. Rather than carry all that extra ballast weight in the bottom of the boat to keep it upright, why not use two hulls and buoyancy? However, all the books and magazines we had read were written by traditional boaters and therefore emphasized traditional boat designs. Multihulls were considered unsafe for any serious ocean travel.

There was some truth to that claim, because any poorly designed or constructed boat is unsafe for serious ocean travel, and there were plenty of poorly designed or constructed multihulls. Another claim was that multihulls can turn over, and once over they stay that way. A properly designed monohull will right itself if it turns over. On the other hand, the Pacific islanders were traversing the Pacific Ocean on catamarans while the Europeans were still hugging their coasts on monohulls.

We started reading about multihulls. We discovered that there were production multihulls that were well designed, well constructed, and were safely sailing oceans, surviving storms, and circumnavigating the world. For cruising purposes, we quickly ruled out trimarans because of their interior configurations. They are wonderful sailing boats, but there is a certain tunnel-like quality to their interiors that we did not care for. Catamarans, on the other hand, have two hulls, each of which provides living space, and a bridgedeck in between that provides additional living space. A cruising catamaran of any given length offers more living volume than any other hull design. Catamarans draw very little water, so not only does their shallow draft allow sailing in thin water, but they can be driven right up onto the beach if desired. Catamarans are, in general, faster than monohulls, but they are slowed down more by adding loads. The interiors of catamarans are much brighter because they have much more window area, so it is less like living in a cave. For comfort, catamarans have a maximum heel of around five degrees, which is far less than a monohull. For practical purposes, the sailing is fairly level. But what of safety?

It is true that a catamaran can be tipped over. It is very hard to do with a cruising catamaran, but it can be done. Once upside down it is difficult to turn it right side up again. The good news, though, is that catamarans have positive flotation; thus, even if upside down they will not sink. The worst case point of ultimate stability of a catamaran is floating upside down, but the corresponding point for a monohull is on its side at the bottom of the sea. The choice seemed obvious to us. We should investigate cruising catamarans.

Unfortunately, there were very few catamarans on the Pacific Coast and none for charter. The only way we could experience a catamaran was to charter one on the East Coast. We chartered one in Baltimore and sailed it on the Chesapeake Bay for a week. It was not in good condition, but it was a joy to sail. The motion was different from that of a monohull. It was a quicker motion with more pitching, but far less rolling and heeling. Although it was a different motion, it was not unpleasant. It would not turn as quickly as a monohull, but it was still satisfactorily maneuverable. We came away convinced that we wanted to cruise on a catamaran.

The problem was to choose a model, then find one. There are plenty of monohulls available on the market. That was not true of cruising catamarans. And what catamarans there were, were on the East Coast. Our break came one spring when there was a professional conference held in Tampa, Florida. Fortunately, I did not have to be back immediately after the conference ended. Suzann went along with me. While I was attending the conference, she was flitting around the Tampa-St. Petersburg area talking to yacht brokers. After the conference, we had a few days to devote completely to catamaran hunting. The brokers filled our days with all kinds of catamarans of different sizes, designs, and manufacturers. We selected one yacht broker to be our primary broker and left for home having made our major choice.

We decided on a Brit catamaran, the 37-foot Prout Snowgoose. The Prout brothers had been building hundreds of catamarans for some forty years and never had a hull failure. No Snowgoose had ever flipped over, except those that had been modified for racing. It was very conservatively rigged. Built for blue water ocean travel, many had circumnavigated the world. They had a reputation for stoutness and reliability. They were bulletproof, but not fast as many catamarans. There were two interior layouts--one for chartering and one for family. The difference was in the layout of the bridge deck. In the chartering version, the table and seating accommodations went all the way to the forward end of the bridge deck. In the family version, the seating accommodations were a settee table for six in the aft portion of the bridge deck. Forward of a separating bulkhead was a queen size bed and master's cabin. The family layout was the clear preference. The question was whether we could find one for sale and in good condition.

While at home we prepared our house for sale and ourselves for a major move; the hunt for the Snowgoose was in progress. The broker had turned up three for sale. One was in St. Augustine, Florida. It had just been sailed over from Britain by a family who were looking for a larger boat. It was a barebones boat lacking some of the amenities we would want, like refrigeration and a water heater. Such things could be added, though, so it was a possibility.

Another boat was not yet in the States, but was coming up from the Caribbean Islands. Its location and progress were unknown, but it was said to be on its way. It actually arrived in the States just in time for Hurricane Andrew, from which it hid out up a river in Florida, suffering no damage.

The last possibility was a boat named Free Spirit that was out of the water in Port Solerno, Florida. The owner had kept it on the hard (sitting on dry land) while he played on his other boats. We had a local man look it over initially, and he reported that it looked sound but there was some work to be done on the interior headliner.

We arranged to meet our broker in Port Solerno over election weekend in 1992, when I could manage to have a few days off in a row. The broker arranged to have a marine surveyor there to inspect the boat, and to have the boat put in the water for a sea trial. We flew to Florida, found the boat, and looked her over as well as we could. We inspected every inch of her hulls, dragged out all the sails and inspected them, and looked in every nook and cranny of the interior. We liked what we saw.

The sails were in good shape. There was a working jib and Genoa jib to fit in the roller furling jib mechanism. The mainsail was the standard size. There was no storm sail, but the mainsail had three rows of reef points so that the sail area could be reduced way down. There was a staysail that was essentially unused. There was an asymmetrical spinnaker sail that was a combination of colors we did not care for. It was well used and nearing the end of its life span. The sail came complete with a snuffing sock to make furling the spinnaker easy. Asymmetrical spinnakers need no spinnaker pole, so they are much simpler to manage. In all, the sail complement was better than we had expected.

The surveyor came and inspected the boat thoroughly. He found the boat sound. When we went for sea trials he inspected the engine. There a problem was encountered. The little three-cylinder Yanmar diesel worked fine, except that the water pump did not work. It had frozen up while dry on the hard. It was easily pulled off and rebuilt within twenty minutes, and we were off again. A minor problem with the mainsail was found. It did not stretch out to quite its full length along the mast. The boltrope along the luff had shrunk somehow. Nevertheless, the boat sailed nicely and the sea trials went well. The people at the brokerage and the associated boatyard had not had a chance to sail on a catamaran, so we had a lot of people on board for the sea trials. That was actually welcome, from my perspective, because it told us how the boat would operate when loaded.

We were pleased with the inspection and sea trials. We decided to buy Free Spirit. We flew back home and started the purchasing process. In summary, we bargained the price, took out a low-interest loan on the house value, and bought the boat. We were committed...or certifiably commitable.

[The Montana Professor 15.1, Fall 2004 <http://mtprof.msun.edu>]