The most important word when jibing is control. The helmsperson, sail trimmers and entire crew need to be diligent. The mainsail boom will swing across the boat with great force if important steps are not taken. There are many cases of serious injuries to unsuspecting crew who were hit in the head by the boom, or who tumbled overboard with the rapid change of course.

By contrast, completing a successful jibe provides great satisfaction when executed with precision.  

The best time to jibe is when a boat is sailing at full speed. The force of the apparent wind on a sail is less when sailing swiftly, which makes steering easy. The reason to jibe is to head on a more direct course toward a desired destination, or to take advantage of a shift in wind.

In advance of a jibe, one person, who is usually steering, should hail the crew about the intention to jibe. This is the proper time to assign specific duties to each crewmember so that everyone is clear about their role during the jibe.  

Once in proper position, the crew should stand by for a countdown to the maneuver. The helmsperson should turn the boat slowly, leaving no one caught off guard. Verbally state the new course, and visually look at any references, such as objects on shore or other boats, to know where the boat will be heading after the jibe.   

The sail trimmer should trim in the sails as the boat makes the turn. This is particularly important with the mainsail. Keep the sail under control so that the boom doesn’t swing wildly across the deck. Trim in the mainsail as the boat turns, and let it out rapidly as the sails fill on the new course. Just before the mainsail swings over, the helmsperson should hail, “Heads!” This will alert the crew to keep their heads low. 

In heavy wind, the ­helmsperson can execute an S-course jibe. Just as the mainsail is swinging across, the helmsperson turns the boat briefly in the direction the mainsail is heading. This action depowers the wind’s force on the mainsail. Once the boat is on the new course, the mainsail can be eased out to its most efficient position. The course that is steered is the shape of the letter S.

In winds less than 10 knots, most boats will jibe through 70 to 90 degrees. In stronger winds, a boat will jibe through 60 degrees or less. In a good blow, I suggest easing off the boom vang and securing the traveler in one place before jibing. This will depower the pressure on the sails and the rig.   

The jibing process is more complicated when a ­spinnaker is being flown. If the ­spinnaker is symmetrical with a ­spinnaker pole, then the helmsperson should be particularly careful when steering. The foredeck crew needs to exert downward and forward pressure on the spinnaker pole to keep it under control as it is being rehooked to the mast.   

Avoid rapid turns. Give your crew adequate time to shift the spinnaker pole. The sail trimmer in the cockpit is positioned to keep the sail full. Good teamwork is the key.

In recent years, the asymmetrical spinnaker has become a popular sail. I find that inside jibes are generally more efficient. This is when the sail passes inside the fore-triangle. The sail trimmer eases out the old sheet so that there is plenty of line to trim on the new jibe. The turn of the boat is usually a little faster than when jibing with a symmetrical sail, but it should not be any faster than the sail trimmer can move the sail from one side of the boat to the other. Continue changing course smoothly and constantly when jibing with an asymmetrical spinnaker. A pause can cause the sail to wrap.   

I find it interesting how many modern yachts resort to roller furling systems to handle forward sails. This applies to headsails and staysails. The sail is simply rolled up before jibing and rolled back out after the jibing maneuver is complete.  

I suppose I could add a technique or two for schooners and other multimast boats.  For example, schooners set a gollywobbler between the masts. On some schooners, it is best to have two of these quadrilateral sails ready to set on either jibe. When it is time to change course and jibe, take down one and hoist up the other on the new jibe. You just need two sails. But that is a story for another day. 

5 keys to safe jibing

1. Give the crew ample warning that a jibe is about to take place.
2. Assign each crewmember a specific job.
3. Keep the mainsail under control; don’t let the boom fly across the boat.
4. Look for a reference point on land to head for on the new course.
5. Do not turn the boat too quickly.

Hall of Fame sailor Gary Jobson is a CW editor-at-large. 

The post How To Jibe Like the Pros appeared first on Cruising World.

It was early afternoon on Day One of a weeklong course to prepare for the US Coast Guard’s captain’s exam, and besides my head feeling like a balloon about to pop, already several pages of my notebook were filled with hastily scribbled notes, including this gem: 1.169 x square root of light height = geographical range. Who knew I’d have to know that?

During the course of the morning, we’d slogged our way through license requirements, calculating days underway inshore and seaward of the boundary line that wraps like a string around the offshore points along America’s coasts. We’d touched on license endorsements, required publications when carrying ­passengers, and a list of additional things we’d need to procure before applying for any license. Things such as a Department of Transportation physical, CPR and first-aid cards, and a Transportation Worker Identification Credential.

We discussed in detail aids to navigation, buoy functions, beacons, light characteristics, Intracoastal Waterway navigation, light ranges, weather patterns and cloud identification.

And in between it all, Capt. Greg Metcalf, owner of the Atlantic Captain’s Academy, and instructor Capt. Chris Davis, an ex-Coastie-turned-towboat-skipper, spun entertaining sea tales and bantered back and forth with the 12 students—nine would-be tuna charter captains, a mate with a family tour boat that runs on the New Jersey coast, and a couple of sailors—who had committed to this immersive experience, held in a hotel conference room on the banks of the Annisquam River in Gloucester, Massachusetts. 

That first day, a Sunday, as Metcalf outlined what we’d cover before taking four individual exams the following Sunday, he assured us of one thing: We’d make it through. ”Anyone know a charter captain?” he quipped. “Do they seem like rocket scientists?”

And then there were Davis’ two fundamental rules of ­navigation that we’d be reminded of again and again: “No. 1: Never hit bottom. No. 2: Never hit anyone else.”

Different Routes, Same Waypoint

There are all sorts of good ­reasons for mariners to ­consider becoming licensed captains. In the class that I took, several of the students were fishermen who had spent years on boats of all sizes, either chasing sport fish or fishing commercially. A license would allow them to take paying passengers out on charters, or it would let them command boats on which they’d been deckhands. A Maine lobsterman wanted to take tourists out on Sundays and charge them to haul traps on days when commercial lobstering isn’t permitted in that state. One woman, a school nurse, had summer jobs lined up driving launches out to islands off the Merrimac River. 

Me? I do some teaching at a sailing center in Boston, and a ticket would let me spend more time on the bigger boats and run an occasional charter. 

The basic license, Operator of Uninspected Passenger Vessels, is where it all starts. Sometimes called a “six-pack license,” it allows a holder to carry up to six passengers for hire in coastal waters. To qualify, besides passing the US Coast Guard exams, you need 360 documented days underway, 90 of which must have been in the past three years. The next step is to pursue Master credentials. At the Atlantic Captain’s Academy, this involves a two-day course on top of the OUPV curriculum. A Master allows you to captain a Coast Guard-inspected vessel with more than six passengers. The size of the boat and where it can be operated depends on your prior experience.

With various study options from which to choose, an eight-day in-classroom course worked the best for me. Setting aside a single solid chunk of time was easier to plan for than committing to a longer time frame, and the course in Gloucester was relatively close to where I live. Metcalf offers courses in several other New England locations, as well as online instruction.

Alternatively, Steve Wilson, the lead instructor at the Boston Sailing Center, who along with a friend had plans to be in Florida for the winter, opted to take one of Metcalf’s online programs that met in a Zoom classroom for three hours every Monday and Wednesday night for nine weeks, starting in January. When they returned to the Boston area in late spring, they and most of their Zoom-mates met in Maine for a day to take the proctored exams for OUPV credentials.

“Anyone who embraces Zoom technology and can learn that way, it’s awesome,” Wilson says. Before each class, he spent time becoming familiar with the material in Metcalf’s textbook, and after each class, he and his partner spent additional hours studying, working through exercises, and taking practice tests. He estimates that involved another 12 or so hours a week, sometimes a bit more. Near the end of the course, Metcalf held two optional weekend study days, and he was available throughout to answer questions over the phone or by email, Wilson says. 

During the online course, students had ample time to get to know one another, Wilson says, and his classmates came from a variety of backgrounds, as was the case with my class. A few of the students in his class were auditing the course with no intention of taking the exam at the end. They just wanted to learn the material to become better boat operators.

Cruising Solo

While the Atlantic Captain’s Academy and many other schools across the country offer a variety of schedules that employ Coast Guard-approved curricula to help mariners earn their credentials, they aren’t required. 

Tim Murphy, a CW editor-at-large and a New England-based marine journalist, first earned his OUPV credential when he was 18 and living in New Orleans. In high school, he’d signed up as a trainee on the brigantine Young America and was invited back as a volunteer. That, in turn, led to a six-month job crewing, so he was at sea every day and able to rack up 180 days of sea time. Meanwhile, his family was living aboard, and with them, he sailed all throughout the Bahamas, so in a period of three years, he had all the sea days needed.

Murphy says that a car ­accident during the summer after his senior year left him idle for a few months, so he spent the time studying and memorizing Chapman Piloting & Seamanship. He also used flash cards his father had employed while earning his own license to memorize all the mnemonics sailors rely on to remember navigation rules. Then he walked into Coast Guard headquarters and passed the tests. A year later, when he turned 19, the minimum age for Master credentials, he qualified for a license allowing him to captain vessels up to 100 tons, 200 miles offshore.

Murphy let his ticket expire in the 1990s, but in 2018, after buying hisPassport 40, Billy Pilgrim, with the intention of going off cruising with his partner, he decided to renew his credentials and used a few texts the boat’s previous owner had left to prepare on his own again.

“It was so hard,” he says with a laugh. “It was really hard.” But ultimately successful. Murphy again now holds those same Master’s credentials and will be able to use them if the opportunity arises in his travels.

By the Book

Back in the hotel in Gloucester for Day Two, we spent more time going over currents and tides, and then many hours poring over navigation rules. That night, we went home to review navigation general material—buoys, lights, weather—and took a practice test that we corrected in class the next day.

Day Three was all about mnemonics. “Red over red, captain is dead,” meaning the lights displayed on a vessel not under command. “Red over white, a fishing boat at night,” meaning a commercial fishing boat not trawling. “Red over green, sailing machine,” meaning a sailboat displaying its masthead tricolor. They were endless. “Turn to port, go to court,” meaning what action to take as a give-way power vessel in a crossing situation.

There were horn signals to memorize, whistles, gongs and bells. All followed by practice quizzes and more practice quizzes. Ditto on Day Four.

On Thursday, Capt. Davis had us roll out the paper charts and grab our Weems & Plath plotting tools and dividers for a three-day deep dive into current set and drift, plotting, dead reckoning, speed, fuel—you name it. I’m not sure I’d ever used up an entire eraser before.

Then finally, on Sunday, it was the day of reckoning, with exams in Navigation General, Chart Plotting, Rules of the Road, and Deck General. Navigation and Deck required minimum scores of 70 percent. The other two, 90 percent.

It was intense. It was challenging. But in the end, Metcalf was right: It was doable. 

That afternoon, a few of us stuck around to study and take an add-on exam for a towing endorsement. And a couple of weeks later, most of us turned up for the two-day Master’s course. Two of us also opted for sailing endorsements.

So what’s the plan? Well, that’s still in the works. But already my Inland Waters Master credentials have earned me a few bucks and provided some new opportunities. And one thing I know for certain after a full summer on the water is that I’m definitely a better and more knowledgeable sailor. For that alone, it was well worth the effort. 

Mark Pillsbury is a CW editor-at-large.

The post Plot a Course for Captain Credentials appeared first on Cruising World.

Since their advent in the early 20th century, diesel engines have been refined to a state of near perfection. Most are robust, reliable and long-lived, provided they receive preventive maintenance, clean fuel, cooling water, and air for combustion. 

When they do fail, the problem can usually be traced to a handful of culprits: deferred maintenance (a deteriorated impeller or broken belt, for instance) or contaminated or interrupted fuel, with the latter including air ingestion, an electrical fault, or a design or manufacturing defect. 

This column focuses on fuel plumbing. Fuel is usually conveyed from the tank to the engine via flexible hose; in some cases, it’s via copper tubing. Any hose that’s used must be rated for marine fuel applications, including the ability to resist exposure to flame for a minimum of 2.5 minutes. Hose that meets this requirement is typically marked USCG A1. It should also include the name of the manufacturer, as well as the date it was manufactured. If any of this information is absent, particularly the A1 rating, then the hose is disqualified for use in a marine fuel application.

A section of flexible hose must be used between the tubing and the engine, and the tubing must be immobilized against engine vibration and gear shifting. For this transition location from metallic tube to hose, the interface cannot be direct. Put another way, the hose cannot simply be clamped over the tube. The tube must instead be flared, and a flare-to-hose fitting should be used. 

Termination of fuel hoses is most often achieved by using common pipe-to-hose adapters and hose clamps. While welcomed, double clamps are not required, at least where American Boat and Yacht Council compliance is concerned. 

In fuel-supply applications, double clamps should be used only if the adapter is long enough to support both clamps with room to spare. If the adapter is not long enough to support dual clamps, then a single (preferably solid rather than perforated) band clamp should be used.

One caveat where this practice is concerned: Some adapters are designed to be used without clamps. They are often differentiated from conventional adapters by a plastic collar. The barbs on these adapters are especially aggressive; if clamped, they can pierce the hose’s inner liner, leading to leaks and delamination, and interrupting the fuel supply. And these adapters can be used only with hose designed and labeled for the application. 

The other form of hose termination utilizes a clamped or swaged in-place fitting. Clamped or field-assembled fittings are available in brass and plated mild steel. Brass fittings are reasonably priced and corrosion-resistant. Mild-steel fittings are cost-effective but should be corrosion-inhibited after they are installed. When installing these fittings, a proprietary installation mandrel must be used to prevent damage to the hose liner, which could ultimately create a blockage. 

Swaged fittings require the use of a swaging tool, and thus are poorly suited for do-it-yourself projects. If you know the lengths you need and the end-fitting types, you can have a batch of hoses swaged by a commercial hose shop.

Fuel-fill hose must also be rated and marked for the application. It calls for an A2 rating. In this case, double clamps are not only recommended, but they are required for ABYC compliance. This is one of only two applications where double clamps are mandated, with the other being exhaust hose.

Steve D’Antonio offers services for boat owners and buyers through Steve D’Antonio Marine Consulting.

The post Monthly Maintenance: The Importance of Proper Fuel Plumbing for Diesel Engines appeared first on Cruising World.

With 345 gallons of fresh water, my 50-foot schooner, Britannia, has larger-than-­average tankage. The boat has two heads, each with a washbasin and shower, and a pressure pump as powerful as a house supply. Unfortunately, with ­only an 11-gallon hot-water tank, my hot water runs out quickly, especially if both showers are used at the same time. And if the hot runs out, you’re on your own, so to speak.

Britannia’s hot-water tank is the square Kuuma model, sold by just about everyone in the marine-supply business. Eleven gallons might sound like a lot to boats that have the smaller, 6-gallon version, but neither delivers its full capacity of hot water to a shower or sink faucet. This is because as the hot is drawn off, it is replaced with cold (ambient) from the boat’s tankage. This process dilutes the remaining hot, so by the time about half of the hot is used up, the rest is somewhat lukewarm. Of course, it helps to leave the electric element on, and even to run the engine to compensate for this loss, but that might not be practical every time.

This problem was exposed recently when we had four guests staying aboard who were new to boating. I had to explain (tactfully, of course) that they were on a boat, not in a house, and the hot water wouldn’t run endlessly. I suggested that only one morning shower should be taken at a time; otherwise, there would be a good chance of someone finishing with a cold rinse. It was embarrassing for me to have to admit that, even though my schooner has just about everything that a house has—a washer/dryer, freezer, fridge, air conditioning, 120-volt power in all rooms—it is woefully lacking in hot-water capacity. I therefore decided to look into rectifying the deficiency.

Another reason I wanted to increase the hot-water capacity was more personal. Britannia has a full-size bathtub in the aft cabin head. Many boats of Britannia’s size have bathtubs, but mine is not just any old tub; it has 10 power jets, making it a hot tub. The idea is to fill the bath with hot water now and again for a long soak. I actually consider this to be more important than the shower issue, because how many times do we have guests staying over and wanting dual morning showers compared with me enjoying a British pint in a massaging hot tub after a hard day’s work on the boat? 

For this, I needed to generate 50 gallons of water at a temperature of 102 degrees, and if that could be achieved, the shower problem would solve itself. (I only ever used the hot tub when tied up to a dock. Using it at anchor could be interesting when a big powerboat zooms past and bucket-loads of hot water slosh all over the floor.)

The heater supplied with this tub worked for only a few baths before burning out because it was intended to keep bathwater warm after it had been filled from a home’s hot-water tank. What I needed was a heater with enough power to heat a bath full of water from ambient cold to 102 ­degrees Fahrenheit. I learned that this could be achieved only with a 240-volt heater of considerable wattage.

My present marina berth has only one 120-volt, 30-amp outlet, so my first thought was, Could that somehow be converted to give 240 volts to run just a water heater? The answer, from much more knowledgeable electricians than me, was no. Not without the risk of blowing all the breakers in the marina.

I looked at propane-gas heaters, also called tankless water heaters. Those that are capable of supplying water at 102 degrees are quite large and need to vent their hot exhaust to the outside. Also, the boat has storage for only one propane tank, whose contents would be quickly used up.

INSTALLATION

To at least solve the shower problem, I decided to install a second 11-gallon water heater. I’d hoped, with two heating elements and double the engine calorifier capacity, that it would be enough to fill the bath. 

Britannia is a long-keel, full-volume hull with an amazingly deep 5-foot bilge stretching 27 feet from the stern gland to the chain locker, and housing all the other machinery as well. It is more like a long engine room than a bilge. The existing heater tank sat on a raised platform in this cavity. 

I removed the tank and its platform. Then I built a new one lower down in the bilge. I then positioned the new heater on top of the old one and piped them together in series. It was a welcome change to be able to work on the two tanks while they were sitting on the salon sole instead of having to hang upside down like a blind bat in some dingy cave. While doing this, I also replaced the electric immersion heater element, which was in the old tank when I bought it 12 years ago. 

Both units were then lowered into position using a tackle strapped to the overhead handrail supports. The engine’s hot-water outlet pipe was connected to “hot water in” on the lower tank, then from “hot water out,” it was connected to the top heater’s “hot water in,” then from “hot water out” to the return on the engine. This setup ensured a continuous flow of nearly boiling engine water pumped through both heat exchangers because water is heated in the tank in two conventional ways: from a 120-volt immersion heater ­element inside the tank, which takes about 20 minutes, and from hot water in the engine being pumped through heat exchanger coils inside the tank. Both methods can be used at the same time. Away from a dock, the boat’s 6.5 kW generator can also be used to produce 120 volts for the immersion heater element.

I also installed a stop valve on the engine-outlet pipe to close off the heater circuit and allow the engine to initially come to operating temperature more quickly. Ideally, valves should be installed at the engine fittings for both supply and return, to isolate the water heater and hoses, in the event of a leak.

Cold water from the boat’s freshwater tanks was pumped through the pressure pump to “cold water in” on the bottom unit, then from “hot water out” to “cold water in” on the top heater, and from “hot water out” to the hot water manifold, and from there to all the boat’s outlets, including both showers and the bathtub hot faucet. 

Britannia has two shore-power receptacles supplying two separate distribution panels. These split the load of some of the higher electrical draws, such as the twin AC units and the washer/dryer. I reconnected the original wiring and installed new wiring to the top heater through a breaker on the second panel. The reason for wiring the two heater elements separately is to balance the load over two panels, and to not overload the existing wiring to the original water heater.

In my present berth, with only one 120-volt supply, I use a splitter to interconnect these two panels, but if we go somewhere where there are two 30-amp outlets, I can plug them in separately. I also have a 50-amp plug and splitter for use where the larger amperage is available. Flexibility is integral on a boat with so much electrical demand.

THE DAY OF RECKONING

After all these shenanigans, both units were finally installed, wired and plumbed, and it was time to test my hydroelectrical engineering theories.

I first switched on both heater elements, and the gauge showed a discharge of 22 amps from the single 30-amp shore supply. I closed the shutoff valve, started the engine, and set it to run at 1,500 rpm, its normal cruising revs. When the engine reached its operating temperature of 180 degrees Fahrenheit, I opened the shutoff valve to allow hot engine water to be pumped through both calorifier tubes. I had to remind myself that the engine was now having to heat 22 gallons of water, which took 40 minutes. 

The thermostat on the heater elements is set at 140 degrees, and it’s nonadjustable. Therefore, when the engine raised the temperature above this temperature in the tanks, the electrical side switched itself off. I ran some hot water into one of the washbasins, and it was 178 degrees, so cold would need to be added for a shower. The increased capacity therefore solved the twin shower issue, but would it be enough to fill the bath with piping-hot water for a long soak? 

I opened the bathtub’s hot-water faucet fully, then watched and waited. Scalding-hot water crept slowly up the sides of the bath until water from the faucet slowly began to cool, as both tanks depleted their hot water. 

This was evidently running out faster than the engine and immersion heaters could reheat it. I let the cooling hot water continue to run in as it slowly lowered the overall temperature. The engine and electronics must have wondered what was happening to their valiant efforts to keep the water in the tanks at a steady temperature.

As the bath became almost full, the water was still too hot at 110 degrees, so I switched the hot tap off and cooled it to 102 degrees with the addition of cold water. 

I then climbed into the luxuriously warm water and switched on the jets. On the first speed, there is only moderate action, but on the second speed, it really belts it out and nicely massages an aching back. I even fitted a holder on the wall for my beer glass because it would be a major disaster to have that tip over, even if in a marina berth. 

When I installed the bath, I obviously needed a means of emptying it. For the showers, I fitted automatic, self-contained shower draining units in each head, incorporating a float switch and pump in a plastic box. This setup pumps shower water overboard about as fast as it comes in, so there is never much standing water during a shower. 

Draining 50 gallons was an entirely different issue, and it would have taken ages through the shower drain. I solved this by fitting a changeover valve in the bath drainpipe and a pipe leading to the large diaphragm bilge pump. With the valve switched to bath discharge, the pump emptied all 55 gallons in 10 minutes flat.

When we have been out sailing and motor back to our berth, the water is usually piping hot, solely through the engine calorifier. We now have loads of hot water for virtually endless showers and a nice bath. The total cost of this project was $450 for the second heater, $22 for a new heater element, and $42 for extra connector fittings—a total of $514. It’s a small price to pay for the luxury of lovely hot showers and a fully ­operational hot tub.

Editor’s note: For all water heaters that are plumbed to engines, the temperature of the domestic water can approach that of the engine coolant, which clearly can be dangerous. For that reason, these water heaters should be equipped with tempering valves to lower the water temperature to a safe level. (For more info: cruisingworld.com/how/dont-land-hot-water/)

The post DIY Projects: Some Like It Hot appeared first on Cruising World.

Inspecting the condition of your rigging is an important step in safe-passage preparation, so going aloft is—or should be—on the maintenance shortlist of many cruisers. Does that sound like a glorious opportunity to gaze at your boat from an eagle’s-eye view or a nerve-racking ascent to avoid (or get over with as quickly as possible)? Maybe the reaction is, “Hell no, that’s a job for a rigger!” However you feel about going aloft, cruisers should be familiar with safe practices for ascending their boat’s mast(s). Here are some tips for doing it well.

Safety first

Going up the mast is serious business that requires good, proven equipment, safe practices, and an eye to knowing when not to defy gravity. If you question any of the safety checks described here, make a plan and go aloft only after addressing them.

Overview

Because humans are clever, there are a surprising number of ways to ascend toward the stars on a sailboat, such as sitting in a bosun’s chair, dangling in a harness, or climbing mast steps, whether solo or with a winch buddy. There is no best approach, just the one that works for you.

Make a plan

If doing a solo ascent, anticipate the necessary tools so you don’t have add a trip for that missing screwdriver. When assisted, discuss if you will inspect things on the way up or down, communication protocol, and line-handling technique.

What tools will you need, and how will you carry them? Items should be accessible and safely stowed. Jamie has a canvas bucket that slings onto the side of the bosun’s chair; it holds enough without being too deep to reach items easily. If you don’t usually put keepers on your sunglasses or eyeglasses, this is a good time to do so. Remember that even a small item dropped from aloft can have a much greater impact below. Crew on deck should stay away from the mast base when not actively raising or lowering the aloft person.

Unambiguous communication

Does stop mean soonish or, “My knee jammed between shrouds, and I will bleed if hoisted 1 millimeter farther”? Talk through the steps you plan to take. Will you stop at spreaders on the way up, the way down, or both? 

Assume you will not be able to hear each other without aid. If you have wireless headsets (called “marriage savers”) for anchoring, such as Bluetooth Sena headsets or 1.9 GHz Eartec headsets, this is a perfect additional use. A clipped-on handheld VHF on an unused channel is another option. Or simple earbuds or a headset and a phone are an easy hands-free alternative. There are even apps you can use to connect 1-to-1 without internet, such as by using NFC or your boat’s network. 

Good gear

Start with the device between the human and hoist mechanism. If using a harness, is it in good condition and at least reasonably comfortable? Same if it’s a bosun’s chair. Check that the mast steps aren’t corroded, the halyard isn’t chafed or UV-damaged, the winch is working well, and the rope clutch securely holds the line under load. Note that a winch self-tailing mechanism alone is not enough to secure a person aloft. We know of a fatality when the halyard slipped from a self-tailer and the rope clutch did not engage.

Lift mechanism

Use halyards or a boom topping lift, but not a spinnaker halyard (or other external halyards) as the primary hoist; it’s OK to use these as backup safety lines. Spinnaker halyards run through hanging external blocks, adding greater risk for failure. 

When Totem was in the Seychelles, new cruising friends asked for help after discovering a couple of broken wire strands on their 55-foot monohull and hired Jamie to inspect the rigging.  He was inclined to go up the mast—barely inclined, thanks to a sloppy anchorage and gusty trade winds. As Jamie started rigging the bosun’s chair, the owner grabbed the spinnaker halyard as the primary hoist for the ride up. Jamie said, “No, I don’t go up on spinnaker halyards.” The owner pleaded, and the wind blew too much to drop the furled main and headsail, so Jamie acquiesced. Upon reaching the masthead, the first thing Jamie checked was the external spinnaker halyard block—and he found a crack in the shackle. Next was the fastest controlled descent possible.

Make sure the halyard(s) are in good condition. If the halyard does not pass through a rope clutch, you must secure the tail to a cleat after the winch. A second halyard (with an additional person to tail it) acts as a safety line, just in case. 

Don’t use halyard shackles; they can fail, leading to catastrophe. Instead, tie halyards with a bow line. Consider bringing up a safety tether to clip to the mast if working at one spot for a while.

Test!

Before ascending, do a shock-load test. It’s free, easy and really good piece of mind. If going up in a chair or harness, hoist your ride a few feet above the deck, then bounce. Really throw your weight down into it. You want to check the shock load from a safe height, not one that can break bones or do neurological damage.

Electric winch?

No. Well, it’s hard to make this choice when push-button power is an option, as it turns out to be a lot of work to haul someone up the mast. But electric winches are powerful, and very bad things can happen very quickly. Power-winch accidents in hoisting scenarios have resulted in the loss of fingers and limbs. There is also the risk of not stopping at the masthead in time, so the trusty bow line jams or gets pulled into the halyard sheave. That can cause the line to fail, which is easier than you might think because electric winches work so quickly and powerfully. Clear, unambiguous communication with your partner becomes even more important. If you do go up with the power winch, the winch operator must use extreme caution.

Going up!

Take pictures while you’re up there. No, it’s not just to show how cool you look at the masthead. Get a lot of photos of the rig, both zoomed in (in focus) and panned for context. You might also find something unexpected to capture and examine later. Reviewing photos offers another opportunity to rig-check after the climb and spot things you might have missed.

Descend safely

Gravity is your friend—and your foe. It will make lowering you easier, but the ride down can feel uncomfortably jerky. To reduce jerkiness, the deck support crew should ease the line smoothly in 3-  to  4-inch sections rather than small increments. Be sure the eased halyard has a fair lead to the winch so there is no chance the line can jump over the end of the winch. 

The other contributing element for a smoother ride is being mindful of the number of wraps around a winch—too many, and it won’t ease smoothly. Usually, two wraps provide enough friction to hold the person’s weight while still letting the line slide around the winch as needed. If the weight feels like too much to hold easily, then add another wrap.

Remember that returning to deck level is more dangerous because the self-tailer and rope clutch are not used when easing.

The easiest inspection

Does it need to be said? It’s a lot safer and easier to inspect your rig components when they’re lying on sawhorses at ground level and not in the boat. This is the current state of Totem’s equipment, although we hope to have it back up again soon. We’re counting down to the boat’s splash…and sailing to Puerto Vallarta in December!

The post Sailing Totem: Safely Going Up the Mast appeared first on Cruising World.

Steve Brown knows a thing or two about heavy weather. Throughout his sailing career, Brown and his wife, Trish, took on a four-year circumnavigation aboard their Oyster 56, Curious, sailed a 30,000-mile circumnavigation of the Americas—sailing north from Camden, Maine, and then an east-to-west transit of the Northwest Passage—and spent more than his fair share of time in the Southern Ocean. 

Brown is up for debating the superlatively inhospitable places on Earth. 

“Southern Georgia, in the South Atlantic, is the most unforgiving place I’ve ever sailed,” he says. “Although there was this one time, coming up the Le Mer Strait between Staten Island and Tierra Del Fuego.” 

The sailing was the fault of his ­mountaineering interests, he claims, and he originally took to the sea for adventure. He followed in the footsteps of mountaineer-sailor Bill Tilman, and decided he needed to learn how to sail in order to “fill in the blanks on the map.”

A starter dinghy was followed by a Furia 44, and then by the circumnavigation in the Oyster 56. When he bought the AeroRig Bestevaer 60C Novara, an aluminum-hull schooner designed as a research vessel, the expeditions stepped up a notch. 

Along the way, there’s been brash ice and icebergs, rogue waves and drogues, penguins and polar bears. He’s a sailor who’s had the real-life experience of switching from gale-force storm management to survival tactics after conditions transcend control. 

His current role is as mentor and ice ­pilot as Novara pursues a multiyear mission in the Caribbean working with coastal communities to educate and ­combat climate change, followed by a planned 2025 Northwest Passage.

Know Your Boat

Brown’s first piece of advice on heavy-weather management, offered during the Cruising Club of America’s 2022 seminar in Newport, Rhode Island, was: “Don’t go out in it,” but there were a few more lessons shared.

“Take your boat apart from stem to stern and know every inch of it,” Brown told me during a recent call. “If you’re going to be far from marinas and chandleries, ask yourself: If it breaks, can I live without it? Can I fix it? If you can’t live without or fix it, then you need a spare.

“When I prepared the boat in Camden for the 2014 Northwest Passage, I spent two and a half months for 15 hours a day on Novara getting to understand it and stripping it from stem to stern,” he says.

If you look at what Randal Reeves did, Brown said, in Reeves’ preparation for the Figure 8 Voyage of the Americas, he took that boat to pieces. “If you’re going to do something that demanding,” Brown says, “then you really have got to have gone through everything. If something goes wrong, then you’re not thinking, Oh, what can it be? You know, because you’ve taken the boat to pieces.”

Kirsten Neuschäfer, during her preparations for the 2022 Golden Globe Race, took apart her Cape George, Minnehaha, starting forward and finishing aft. 

“You’ve got to strip down everything and know it’s in good condition,” Brown said. “When you know every inch of your boat, you know the strengths and weaknesses of your rig, hull, and systems. You’re able to assess problems quickly and are prepared to come up with solutions. The one thing that I didn’t strip down on Novara was the steering system. It’s an incredibly complex system, and when we sought advice, we decided that if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. Unfortunately, moisture had built up on top of an exposed bearing. We got up as far as Newfoundland when the bearing broke.”

Be Prepared

Weather forecasts, man-overboard drills, storm sail management, a hot meal ready to go—each step you take in preparation gives you a greater chance of weathering a storm. Practice until you know what works for you, your boat and your crew. Make sure everyone knows the MOB drill and can perform each role.

Get regular weather forecasts that extend five to seven days out, of wind and seas. Remember, GRIB files have winds but not gusts or waves. Study the areas you plan to sail to familiarize yourself with the depths, sea bottom, landmasses and winds. All of these can play a role in wave size, windspeeds and wind directions.

If a low-pressure system is forecast in your area, study the wind directions and speeds. Try to avoid a blow by charting a safe course that minimizes your time in the path. If you can’t avoid the system, check equipment and chafe points, and remove solar panels before conditions deteriorate. As much as possible, attend to self-care: Get some sleep. Shower and clean up. Prepare meals and coffee. 

“Get the main down, and get it out of the way,” says Randall Reeves, one of Brown’s fellow CCA heavy-weather panelists. Reeves completed his record-breaking 2019 Figure 8 sail of the Americas aboard Moli, his 45-foot aluminum sloop, becoming the first person to sail solo and nonstop around the Americas. “I have two drogues on board, which I flake out and lash down on deck if a gale is in the forecast. I run what-if scenarios in my head and ask myself, What will I do?” 

Stormy Weather

What’s your plan if you are overwhelmed by wind or seas? 

As the wind builds, reef down, Brown says. Know beforehand what your sail plan is, and have your canvas ready. Know how to heave-to, and practice. And know how to manage your boat under hove-to conditions. 

Heaving-to is a fantastic survival tactic, and it’s the go-to method for high-latitude experts such as Skip Novak, Brown says, but it’s absolutely essential to test it out. His boat, Novara, is an AeroRig and can’t heave-to. “I experimented with possible methods, but with little success,” he says, “so we researched other ways to ride out a storm.” 

If the boat can no longer handle even the smallest of storm sails, take it down to bare poles. “We’ve had to do this only once, in 65 knots of wind off South Georgia,” Brown says. 

Heavy Weather Sailing, Eighth Edition, by Martin Thomas and Peter Bruce, has an excellent section on storm tactics, ­including shortening sail, heaving-to, ­running before the wind, and drogue devices. Brown’s advice is included in the book, and he has written several reports on the Jordan series drogue based on his experience and the experiences of other sailors who have deployed the JSD.

“If there’s one piece of kit you need to put on your boat, it’s a Jordan series drogue,” Brown says. During Novara’s 2017 passage from South Georgia to the Falklands, while the boat was running under bare poles, wind and seas built to unmanageable levels. The boat carried too much speed running down the waves and was susceptible to a knockdown if it turned up into the face of a wave, or a pitchpole. 

The drogue was ready on deck, lashed down, with the bridle in place, as wind and seas built. “We put it out off the stern, into 35 knots of wind,” Brown says. “Conditions worsened to 65 knots, with higher gusts and monstrous seas. The drogue slowed our speed, and we went below, and slept, ate and played cards for 48 hours. You need sea room to do this.”

His exchange with Neuschäfer before the 2022 Golden Globe Race focused on sizing her Jordan series drogue for her Cape George. Neuschäfer deployed the drogue during storm conditions off Cape Horn and held on for 12 hours.

While competing in the 2008 edition of the GGR, Susie Goodall deployed a Jordan series drogue off her Rustler 36 during a storm 2,000 nautical miles west of Cape Horn. The drogue’s rope gave way at the bridle as she battled 60 knots of wind and massive seas. Goodall pitchpoled, was dismasted, and was knocked unconscious. 

Although she survived and was ­rescued, her boat was a total loss. The JSD ­manufacturers, along with heavy-weather-­sailing experts, used her experience to update recommendations for drogue sizing, based on boat tonnage. The key is to research and know which drag devices are appropriate for your boat, and know how to use them.

There’s a fantastic database on drag devices that offers an exhaustive list of options, Brown says. “If you look closely at the list, you can see my favorite, the ‘Milk Churn.’ Who among us doesn’t have one milk churn you could lob?

The great thing about this is that there are firsthand narratives of sailors using all of these techniques. You can actually read about some guy who chucked a milk churn. It’s worth taking the time to read. People who have been through this have shared their experiences, or at least those who survived did.”

A Curry on the Shore of Antarctica

During a January 2018 passage from the Falkland Islands to the South Shetlands, after making 685 miles south in five days, Steve Brown and Novara’s crew studied the GRIB files showing winds building above 30 knots and the sea state worsening. 

“We changed course with the intention of running before the wind to Deception Island,” Brown says. Novara made a fast passage, but conditions rapidly deteriorated, with 45-knot winds, driving snow, and poor visibility. Ice and snow built on the rig, sails and deck. 

Using radar and charts, Novara was able to enter Neptune’s Bellows, the pass into Deception Island’s caldera, but AIS showed multiple boats already in the intended ­anchorage of Telefon Bay. In Brown’s words:

We went into sort of a second choice: Pendulum Cove. We needed to get into the lee and out of the wind. We came around a bend and, as we prepared to lower the anchor, we were hit by a 100-knot gust.

Novara was knocked down literally as we were preparing to drop the anchor. The blow washed the aft mainsheet over the side, and it wrapped around the prop. The boat popped right back up, which is amazing since we had the centerboard up and the rig was heavy with ice. But once the mainsheet wrapped the prop, all I could do was steer straight up the beach.

Fortunately, with volcanic soil, there’s almost no rocks inside Deception Island, and we just plowed a big furrow. Novara is very round with a big keelson, and the ­centerboard is inside the keelson, so we plowed up the beach and sat there. The wind was raging, it was snowing like crazy, and we’d blown the jib. We tried to tame it—the aft jib—which had broken free and shredded itself, but we couldn’t. So I just said to the boys, “OK, everybody down below.” And they asked, “Well, what happens now?”

“I’ll put the kettle on and make a chicken curry for tea,” I replied. And that’s exactly what I did. We were inside. We were sort of safe. We weren’t going anywhere. 

I made a big curry with all the trimmings, Naan bread, and everything, and we waited until conditions eased. Then we went out and had a look. 

Novara has a big cable, three big anchors and a lot of chain. I told the crew that we would drag ourselves off on the high tide. We’d gone aground almost at high tide, but there was another 20 centimeters of tide over the next three days, and Novara’s got lots of ground tackle. We have two big bow anchors, with 200 meters (656 feet) of bow chain, a stern anchor with another 60 meters (196 feet), and four shorelines with 100 meters (328 feet) each. The plan was to put out three anchors, connect them to our winches and, at the highest tide, pull ourselves off.

We had a plan. Everyone has a role. We know what we’re going to do. Everybody’s fine, and there’s confidence and optimism in the event. 

When you sail with a crew, you have to be aware of the strengths and weaknesses of the team you put together. When you’ve got a diverse team, you have to understand how best to keep them happy, how best to keep them fit, make sure they look after themselves. This starts before you leave the dock. That’s the biggie for me—understanding the boat, and if you’re sailing with crew, understanding the team that you’re working with. 

You need to make sure you have the trust of your crew. You don’t want a skipper running around like a chicken with his head cut off. You tell them not to worry. I’ll start cooking dinner and it will be all right. Cool heads will prevail in these situations.

You have to put the pieces of the jigsaw together, when it comes to crew, and if you’ve got one piece that doesn’t fit, then it makes life difficult. The thing is, by and large, you look for people who have that third dimension, who can cope in that extreme situation. The Antarctica crew were, without exception, experienced sailors.

On Deception Island, we were up on the beach. When anything like that happens, within the terms of the permit you receive to explore these places, you have to notify the authorities. I notified the UK coast guard, and they picked up the phone to the Chilean n­avy, and it was out of my hands. We could have gotten ourselves off the beach, absolutely no question. But the next thing you know, there was a Chilean navy ship coming down to rescue us. They sent the RIB over, and I went to see the captain on the ship, and he said: “We’ve come to rescue you. We’ll take the crew off, and we’ll take you wherever you want to go.”

I told him that I was not leaving my boat. I needed to get Novara off the beach. And he said, “I don’t have permission to do that.” Following approval, he agreed to pull us off the beach.

They had a massive winch on the ship. I mean it was huge, with a big reel of 4-inch-wide polypropylene line. We made a bridle, and they connected it to the back of the boat. The weight of the line alone pulled the boat off the beach. It wasn’t even tight. Novara was once again safely afloat. —TN

More Info

For information on the Novara One Planet mission, led by Nigel Jollands and Veronica Lysaght, and the multiyear, worldwide climate awareness project,
visit novara.world.

The post Wicked Weather: High Latitude Sailing Strategies appeared first on Cruising World.

I’ve learned during my 35-year marine career that it’s easy to break the ice with boat owners by bringing up one of two subjects: anchor selection or fuel filtration. Here, I’ll discuss the latter.

Diesel engines require only a few elements to start and operate reliably: air, cooling water, compression and clean fuel. 

Air is rarely a problem. Air filters, if they’re present on marine diesels, rarely clog because there’s little dust at sea. Cooling water can be problematic, strainers might clog, and impellers do fail—but all of those are easily serviced. Compression can be controlled, to some degree, by ensuring that valve adjustments occur at scheduled intervals, to check piston-ring condition and wear. 

Fuel cleanliness, on the other hand, is almost entirely within the boat owner’s control, with proper filtration.

Primary Filters

The primary fuel filter—the one that the fuel encounters first as it travels from the tank to the engine—is the most critical line of defense against contamination. 

Fouling can take many forms, from water and the bacteria it supports to asphaltene, which is diesel fuel’s natural “dirt.” Primary fuel filters come in several forms; the one you choose should embody a few key features, including ease of maintenance, a large and see-through bowl, the ability to drain water quickly and easily, and readily available replacement filter elements. 

The filter must be sized to handle the engine’s fuel-flow rate, which is different from fuel consumption. Most diesel engines pump more fuel than they use, returning the excess to the tank, with the return serving as an injector cooling method. However, there’s nothing to prevent you from using a filter with a higher rating. In fact, there are advantages.  

Larger filters can hold more water, and their filter elements can retain more debris before becoming clogged. Equally as important: Larger filters are often easier to service, with a removable top lid, making them more desirable for ­virtually any installation.

Most primary filters let you select the micron rating of the element. Here’s where ­controversy often ensues. 

Engine and filter manufacturers are virtually universal in their guidance that the smallest filter-element rating, usually 2 microns, should be reserved for secondary filtration (the second filter encountered by the fuel as it passes from tank to engine). Primary-filter elements are typically 10 or 30 microns. Some people suggest using a 2-micron primary-filter element, believing that it will catch all fuel-born debris. These people also think that they’ll have to service only the more easily replaced primary filter, leaving the secondary element in reserve.  

In fact, this approach halves the effective filter-element surface area, making clogs more likely. Using the correct approach—a larger-micron element in the primary, and a smaller element in the ^­secondary—lets you segregate contamination by size. While clean 2 and 30 micron elements offer the exact same resistance to fuel flow (virtually none), the 2-micron element will clog faster as the primary filter. 

Primary-filter elements should be replaced when the filter’s vacuum gauge reaches about 5 inches of Hg (­mercury), or annually, ­whichever comes first.

Secondary Filters

Secondary filters are located after the lift pump. They’re nearly always mounted on the engine, are metallic with no plastic or clear-sight bowls, and are typically of the spin-on variety, although some use a sandwich design.  

Secondary filter elements are available from engine manufacturers and aftermarket suppliers. If you opt for the latter, make sure the filter is of the same micron rating as the original version, and of the highest-possible quality.  

Steve D’Antonio offers services for boat owners and buyers through Steve D’Antonio Marine Consulting.

The post Fuel Filtration Plays a Crucial Role in Engine Maintenance appeared first on Cruising World.

We’ve been asked recently: What do you do to keep your cruising sailboat clean? What routines do you have for liveaboard boat cleaning? 

On Totem we have two basic principles:

1. Keep the approach simple and effective, because there are a lot of other things we’d prefer to spend our time doing than cleaning the boat. 
2. Prioritize environmentally friendly cleaning products, for reasons that shouldn’t need explaining. 

Cleaning Tools

We have far fewer cleaning tools on the boat than we did in our house—and almost all run on elbow grease instead of electricity.

Vacuum: A rechargeable handheld model like this works for us; other friends swear by their more powerful, compact Dyson model.

Whisk broom and dustpan: These are often easier to grab than the vacuum.

Buckets: There’s always a 5-gallon bucket or two on board, and often a smaller bucket as well. Nesting bowls from the galley can get called into service too.

Scrub brushes: A brush around the size of your hand works for most below-deck needs; we keep a couple of wider brushes for deck scrubbing. A small brush, like a toothbrush or nail brush, is useful for getting into small or awkward spots.

Sponges: For generally cleaning, two all-stars: extra-thirsty sponges, like these big carwash sponges, for soaking after sluicing, and Swedish dishcloths (thin sponges, actually, made from cotton and cellulose), which are great for everyday wiping up, and they’re biodegradable. 

Cotton rags: We use them to wipe, polish and dry. Old T-shirts are great, and so is terry cloth. Avoid using microfiber rags because they add microplastics to the water. 

Great multitool: Use this telescoping handle with interchangeable attachments to be a mop, brush or boat hook.

Notice the dearth of long handles? We’re just not that big of a boat, which translates to doing fine with the smaller stuff and working with the available storage aboard.

Making environmentally friendly choices is harder than it should be because there is no regulation in using terms such as biodegradable, nontoxic or natural. Brands can use any terms to their liking without consequence, and the cleaning industry is full of greenwashing. That’s just one reason we like to lean on cleaning products that are based on simple ingredients we can more readily supply. 

You might like choosing brands that prioritize environmental friendliness versus the DIY cleaner approach for keeping a cruising boat clean. That’s cool! Do your research and try multiple, environmentally safe products when you have access to them; not all brands will be available once you sail away. You might be in a place where environmentally friendly products are available, but this was not the case in most places we’ve sailed. We’ve found that what’s readily available are products from multinational brands thinking about profit, not the planet. 

Basic Cleaning Kit

Here’s a quick list of ingredients that stocks an effective cleaning kit on board. Most are widely available. Another great advantage of this slimmed-down cleaning approach, beyond being liberated from brands and radically reducing packaging? Freeing up precious storage space from the array of products you thought you needed! 

Vinegar: Great for cleaning, disinfecting, deodorizing, deterring mold or mildew…the wonder ingredient for all-purpose cleaning.

Baking soda: Shake it on straight for scrubbing. Like vinegar, it is shockingly multipurpose on board, and like vinegar (which we keep in gallons on board), you can store it in bulk.

Borax: Similar to baking soda but more alkaline, making it a harsher option. I tend to default to using baking soda. In the mixes below, they are nearly interchangeable. Use slightly less borax. Some folks swear by borax for its strength.

Biodegradable liquid soap: There are many options and bulk packaging. Dr. Bronner’s (castile or Sal Suds) is widely recognized, but it falls into that “hard to find once you leave” category. If you can’t find any, swap phosphorus-free liquid dish soap or use borax and water. Note: Don’t mix castile soap in a vinegar or other acidic solution; they counteract each other (makes sense when you think about it: acid versus alkaline), and the mix will not work.

Lime or lemon juice: This top choice for polishing up stainless on deck is readily available just about everywhere, and often inexpensive. As a backup, use citric acid.

Optionally, use essential oils to add a specific result, whether it’s fragrance or antibacterial. If you’re new to using essential oils, make sure it’s one that plays well with your cleaning goals, and with your denizens. We are new cat parents and have learned that many essential oils are unhealthy for pets. More here about essential oils used on Totem.

A note on bleach. We don’t use it for any general cleaning. Toxicity aside, vinegar is a better deterrent and cleaner for mold or mildew. If you do have bleach, never mix it with vinegar because that creates a dangerous gas. 

Mixes and Methods

Keeping it simple, again: These simple all-purpose approaches work above and below deck. 

1. Spray bottle of all-purpose cleaner for simple cleanup: Put 3 tablespoons of Dr. Bronner’s into a 16 oz. bottle, add a tablespoon of baking soda, then fill with water.
2. Spray bottle of diluted vinegar for basic wiping and mildew deterrent. Use a 3-to-1 (or try 2-to-1) ratio; optional addition of essential oils. Basic wipe down or to remove soap film. 
3. A squeeze bottle of scrubbing liquid ready to go for the deck or the counters. Mix 1 2/3 cups baking soda with ½ cup Dr. Bronner’s in a bowl, and dilute with ½ cup water (or more if needed to pour readily). Great deck scrubber.  
4. Abrasive powder in a shaker (repurpose a grated-cheese canister) is simply baking soda and optional essential oil: shake on, then scrub or wipe up bigger messes. Spray on top with that vinegar solution and wipe away.

One of the things that’s flummoxed me is finding a good spray bottle that holds up over time. The ones I’ve tried seem to have a short life span—a couple of years, max. If you have winners, please comment.

Let’s Be Clear About Something

I am not a happy hippie homemaker just stirring up organic cleaners to maintain my spotless spaces with nary a toxic product on the sustainably grown bamboo shelf. LMAO! I’m human, I try my best, and I think that’s what we should all ask of ourselves. OK, if my kids are reading this, they are laughing and saying, “C’mon, Mama, you are a legit hippie!” I am also pragmatic, make imperfect choices, and just try to make better ones when I can.

Meanwhile: not living aboard yet? Great. This is the easiest time for you to start new cleaning habits and to find what works for you. 

Cleaning Products To Avoid

While some are especially an issue where we have runoff into the marine environment, consider that good practices begin on land. Why not start better practices right now?

Dawn detergent: Marketing efforts to the contrary, Dawn is toxic to marine life. Actually, it’s just a really toxic product in general. Read the details behind their failing grade here.

Disposable wipes: Those wipes in a can, whether it’s to disinfect or to wipe your butt, might be convenient. But each one is a piece of single-use plastic. Think they’re OK because it’s all greened-up on a plastic tub from Seventh Generation? Nope. Unilever, parent of Seventh Generation, is definitely more interested in profit than planet. Single-use plastic is a poor choice when there are plenty of alternatives to creating more plastic waste.

Magic Eraser: These sponges are supposed to help get your topsides shiny and bright, but they also shed microplastic in the form of melamine directly into the water.  

Ammonia: Even a tiny bit is toxic to fish. And now you know. Don’t have any on board and you won’t be tempted.

If you’ll BYOB (bring your own brand), remember to look beyond packaging. Here are two “clean” sounding brands repping a toxic product for general cleaning:

• Simple Green. It is not simple or green. It’s a toxic cocktail. Avoid!
• Mrs. Meyers. I know, it looks so wholesome on the label. Well, it’s not wholesome, and has consistent flunking ratings from the environmental working group.

Routines To Get Clean

Aboard Totem, we deep-clean the galley on Wednesdays, the heads on Fridays, and…LOL. I’m yanking your anchor chain: We don’t have any routine. Cleaning aboard is based on need or opportunity. Oh, hey, is that a squall bringing an abundance of fresh water on the horizon? Time to clean.

Is the boat (or a particular cabin) getting dirty? Tackle it when time allows. Do we have access to abundant fresh water? Then it’s a great time to clean. Sometimes that’s exactly what a pending squall means: Time to get out the scrub brushes and use a welcome dump of fresh water.

This is my cue to credit our kids, who were an awesome cleaning crew and generally more fastidious about cleaning up the boat (well, after a certain age anyway) when needed than this particular parent. Team effort helps too: It’s awesome how fast you can scrub down the boat when there are helping hands. Adding a ship’s cat might introduce some kind of “vacuum every X days” routine, but more likely I’ll just see a bunch of cat hair, and that will be the spark to turn on a favorite podcast and get to tidying up.

The post Sailing Totem: What Are the Best Products To Use To Clean Your Boat? appeared first on Cruising World.

Tacking a sailboat through the wind is one of the great joys of sailing. For a few seconds, everyone aboard the boat is engaged, whether steering, trimming or moving across the deck. A racing crew will practice the routine of crisp tacking to avoid losing ground to the competition. The cruising sailor can make the most of this maneuver by tacking with preparation and care.   

The world’s top helmsmen turn the boat slowly to keep momentum. The faster you turn a boat, the more it will slow down. Crews don’t like being surprised by a boat that is suddenly turning without any warning—especially those working below, say, with a pot tumbling off a stove. 

A cadence should be followed leading up to, during and after any tack. The skipper should let the crew know well in advance that a tack is being contemplated. Everyone on board should prepare to perform a specific job. 

The sail trimmer needs to check that the jib sheet is ready to run. The new sheet should have two turns on the winch and be ready for trimming. The mainsail trimmer needs to make sure the traveler is cleated in its proper position so that it doesn’t go careening across the track. I recommend easing the jib sheet early. Backing a headsail slows a boat and makes it hard to trim in on the new tack. Let out the jib just before the sail starts to back. The turning boat will help move the sail across to the new side of the boat. As the jib starts to fill, add turns of the sheet onto the winch. 

There are three things to concentrate on when tacking: steering, sail trim and crew weight position. 

When you turn the rudder, a force is created that slows the boat before it starts turning. A slow action will reduce the forces slowing the boat. Prioritize trimming the sails for the new tack, which will help you accelerate. Ask your crew to stay low while moving across the boat. Crews should change sides during most tacks when the boat is directly upright. In light winds, the crew should delay crossing over to help the boat heel on the new tack. Dinghy sailors call this a “roll tack.” Heeling gives a boat a longer waterline and more speed, and helps the sails set better. The combination of coordinating smooth steering, efficient sail trim, and proper crew weight position will help the boat to accelerate. 

An announcement about an upcoming tack should be conversational. No yelling. One person should note what the new course will be after the tack and advise the helmsperson. Selecting a point on land or a compass course gives the helmsperson a helpful reference. The helmsperson should alert the crew by saying, “Tacking in three boat lengths.” Just before turning the wheel, the person steering should count down the time to the turn: “Three, two, one, tacking now.” Again, turn the wheel or tiller slowly. Let the boat coast into the wind.  

When the boat is heading directly into the wind, increase the turn rate to get the boat on the new course and get the sails to fill. You should sail a few degrees low, of course, and keep the sails eased to help the boat accelerate. When the boat attains full speed, head up to a closehauled course and trim the sail all the way in. Everyone on the boat will quickly settle in and appreciate a quiet sense of accomplishment. 

Be strategic when tacking. Look for a patch of water with smooth waves. Tacking into steep chop makes it difficult to regain full speed. Sometimes, I will wait 15 seconds or longer to find an easy set of waves to tack through. 

Sailboats are most efficient when maneuvering by sailing at full speed before making a turn. I like to tack in a good puff of wind, which also helps with acceleration. On a breezy day, tacking slowly gives the sail trimmer time to trim the sail in. If the boat turns too quickly, the jib will take a long time to be trimmed properly. The helmsperson should keep an eye on the jib and turn only as quickly as the trimmer can pull in the headsail. 

If the wind is particularly strong, the mainsail trimmer can reduce the pressure on the helm by easing the sail out as the tack is completed. If a boat is heeled over too far, it will be uncomfortable for the crew and make considerable leeway.  

In very light winds, avoid tacking frequently. It takes a long time to recover from a maneuver to regain full speed. Study the wind puffs on the water. Try to locate areas with more wind. Once you locate stronger wind, head in that direction to sail in it. 

Making good tacks gives a crew a sense of accomplishment and brings everyone together as a team. With a few practices, the crew will make the tack a thing of beauty.

 6 Tips for Better Tacking

1. Verbally prepare the crew for a tack.
2. Find an area of smooth water to tack in.
3. Start the tack when your boat is sailing at full speed.
4. Tack in a strong puff of wind.
5. Avoid turning too fast.
6. Coordinate steering, sail trim and crew weight position.

Hall of Fame sailor Gary Jobson is a CW editor-at-large.

The post Boathandling: Making the Turn appeared first on Cruising World.

In our June/July issue, we looked at optional bonding systems, which are typically associated with corrosion prevention. Closely related to bonding systems are mandatory alternating current safety grounds. If your vessel has an AC power system—supplied by shore power, a genset or inverter—then the safety ground is critically important.  

The terms “ground,” “bond” and, to some extent, “DC negative” are often used interchangeably. While they are related, they each have a different mission.

In marine electrical systems, a ­grounded conductor is always common with ground. This would apply to the ­neutral or white wire in a 120-volt, alternating current (VAC) system. The conductor must always be common with the ground at its source, which includes a dockside utility transformer, onboard ­generator or inverter, or onboard transformer. The conductor can also include objects that are permanently connected to the grounding system, thereby making them grounded at all times.

A grounding conductor provides a path to a power source only in the event of a fault. It does not carry current or amperage under normal conditions. Grounding conductors are typically green, and they are, or should be, part of every onboard alternating current electrical system. All ungrounded, or “hot,” AC conductors must be run with a grounding conductor alongside them in the same sheath or bundle.

Contrary to popular belief, electricity does not seek ground. In fact, it seeks to return to its source, which often is grounded. In the case of an onboard AC system, this means that a fault will attempt to return to a dockside utility transformer, where the ground and neutral are bonded. If the boat is away from the dock, the electricity will seek to return to one of the other aforementioned sources: the generator or inverter.  

The most common type of AC ­electrical fault involves an energized, hot or ungrounded conductor coming into contact with a metallic object. This object could include an electrical enclosure such as an inverter chassis; the outer portion of a galley appliance, such as a refrigerator, toaster or coffee maker; or engine blocks and tanks. If these objects are not grounded, then they will become energized by the fault.

In a scenario I experienced personally, an energized conductor chafed against a fastener securing a sail track. The vessel was hauled. I leaned an aluminum ladder against the rail on a rainy day. When the ladder made contact with the rail, a return path was completed via the utility company’s grounded transformer, and via my hands and feet. I received an electric shock.

Probably thanks to my heavy-soled boots, this shock was uncomfortable but not life-threatening. If I’d been barefoot, you likely would not be reading this column now.

The reason this near-catastrophic scenario occurred was because the sail track was not grounded. Here’s where bonding and AC safety grounds intersect. These two systems should be common for this very reason. Had the sail track been bonded when the wire chafed through to it, the fault current would have been able to return to its source, thereby tripping a circuit breaker.  

Some builders, in an attempt to mitigate corrosion, opt to isolate bonding and AC safety ground systems. The scenario I experienced is precisely why that approach is undesirable. Ultimately, for the greatest degree of safety, all grounding, bonding, DC negative and lightning-protection systems should be common; electrocution protection should trump real or perceived corrosion mitigation.

Steve D’Antonio offers services for boat owners and buyers through Steve D’Antonio Marine Consulting.

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