The Jeanneau Sun Odyssey 319 had me at hello. Well, more accurately, it won me over soon after we’d hoisted sail last October off Annapolis, Maryland, during our Boat of the Year sea trials in a gusty 15- to 20-knot northerly on Chesapeake Bay. With a couple of reefs in the mainsail and a turn or two on the 85 percent self-tacking furling jib, the 32-footer put on a peppy display of get-up-and-go, easily knocking off a solid 6 knots hard on the wind. The 319 has a single wheel (a Lewmar number that folds inward when dockside to open up the cockpit) but twin rudders, and the helm was buttery smooth yet totally precise. What a joy it is to drive an extremely capable, compact little sloop in a fresh breeze.

Created by Jeanneau’s in-house design team and built in Poland at a new facility for the company, the 319 is a model of simplicity. That said, there are options galore, and you can really trick the boat out to your own liking depending on where and how you sail. For example, our test boat was equipped with an in-mast furling main, a swing keel and the aforementioned blade headsail. But you can also get one with a traditional stack-pack main, a fixed keel, an overlapping 110 percent jib and a dedicated, fixed ­bowsprit off which can be flown code-zero-style reaching sails. That’s a lot of choices!

RELATED: Jeanneau Sun Odyssey 410: Best Midsize Cruiser Over 38 Feet

“In recent years, we’ve watched a lot of production and semicustom builders go up and up in size,” said BOTY judge Tim Murphy. “I think they’ve been addressing the rising age and wealth of the sailors who buy their boats. One of the goals of this boat was to bring younger sailors into the market. But the Jeanneau representatives said they were surprised to find that there were also other longtime ­sailors, older sailors, downsizing to this boat. And I think that makes perfect sense.”

Down below, there is only one layout available, but it’s a fine, time-tested one (although the interior space will be slightly altered and opened up if you go with the fixed keel instead of the swing version, the trunk of which is ­incorporated into the central dining table). There are two double cabins in the opposite ends of the boat, with a particularly roomy berth aft to starboard. Given the size of the boat, an impressively large head is opposite, to port. A good-size galley and a real navigation desk are flanked to either side of the companionway, and just forward of those features is a pair of long settees with the folding dining table ­sandwiched between them.

It’s funny, you step aboard a lot of boats a good 10 feet longer and are hard-pressed to find a decent sea berth on any of them, but on the 319, there are three good ones (make that four if you don’t mind sleeping in the bow). And while you probably don’t want to take six folks on a cruise of any duration on the boat, you certainly can.

The team at Jeanneau is having a very good year, having earned multiple prizes in the 2019 BOTY contest (see “Hail to the Chiefs,” January/February 2019). Of their three new models, the 319 — the only one not honored — sort of slid under the radar. But perhaps that was an oversight. This is a neat little yacht, clearly envisioned and ­assembled by sailors who love sailing and kicking around on boats. It’s hard to lavish any more praise than that.

Herb McCormick is CW’s executive editor.

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Dufour Yachts introduced its new 360 Grand Large model to CW‘s Boat of the Year team last fall as a coastal cruiser intended for a couple or perhaps a small family. With that in mind, judge Alvah Simon found numerous clever elements to praise within the boat’s 35-foot-2-inch hull — a relatively modest LOA compared to the many 40-, 50- and 60-footers on display at the U.S. Sailboat show in Annapolis, Maryland.

Simon, who’s sailed around the world and then some in his own 36-footer, appreciates practicality afloat and found the boat’s two-sleeping-cabin layout much to his liking, especially since it wasn’t readily apparent which was intended for those paying the bills. “You didn’t have this owner’s cabin and then a little cubbyhole with a bunch of places to hit your head,” he noted.

Instead, the V-berth had a roomy feel to it, with double doors that open wide, an opening hatch overhead and a forward-facing portlight where the cabin top curves down to meet the foredeck. Aft, to port, a second cabin also sported considerable headroom, a large hanging locker and a generously sized bunk suitable for a couple of adults or a handful of toddlers.

This arrangement let the builder locate a large head and shower opposite, with storage behind that can also be accessed from the cockpit above. A full-size nav station is to starboard, just forward of the companionway steps, with an L-shaped galley opposite, and there’s still room in the saloon for a large centerline drop-leaf table and two sea berth-length settees to either side. (There is also a three-cabin layout, but it shrinks the size of the nav station and moves it forward, cutting into the starboard settee, to accommodate the head.)

Simon also had words of praise for how the designer, Felci Yachts, and the Dufour team made the most of the boat’s plumb transom. Sailing, a long seat spans the stern and gives the helmsman multiple places to sit behind the twin wheels. At the dock or when anchored with the swim platform down, the starboard side of the seat folds up out of the way; the port side opens to reveal a sink, propane locker, stainless-steel grill and life-raft locker.

“They’re really starting to use this space wisely,” says Simon. “It’s not just big lazarettes for fenders anymore.”

Adding to the sense of space aft is the lack of a backstay, made possible by the 360’s swept-back twin spreaders and stays anchored to the sheer. The boat comes with a couple of options for headsails, either a self-tacking jib or, in the case of the boat we sailed, a 107-percent overlapping genoa, with fairleads that can be adjusted by lines led to the cockpit. An optional sprit is also available for flying off-wind sails. Halyards, vang and reef lines are brought aft to the cockpit under the coachroof, keeping the deck clutter free. A double-ended main sheet is led to the primary winches mounted just forward of the twin wheels, making single handing quite manageable.

The breeze was light on the day we took the 360 for a sail. In about 4 knots of wind, the GPS speed was just over 2 knots closehauled and about 2 1/2 knots on a reach.

The base price for the boat is $155,000. Our test boat had an upgraded 29 hp Volvo (an 18 hp engine comes standard), which, with a few other options, pushed the price tag to $197,000. If I were buying the boat, I’d definitely consider the bigger power plant. As it was, in calm conditions, it pushed us along at just 6 knots at cruising rpm (2,400) and 6.8 knots wide open.

“The steering under power and sail was really quite nice,” noted BOTY judge Tim Murphy, describing his time on the wheel. “She backed beautifully under power in both directions.” For a couple looking to do some sailing with friends or the kids, what more could you ask for?

Mark Pillsbury is CW’s editor.

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There are certain matters in life that are just sure things, where you go in realizing that professionals are involved and you’re in good hands. You walk into a theater for a Meryl Streep film, and you know the acting’s covered. You board a Qantas flight understanding there is zero chance it will fall from the skies. You cut into a steak at a Ruth’s Chris knowing that it is about to melt in your mouth. If only everything was this way.

In sailing, thankfully, there are lots of givens: Harken hardware, Edson steering, Raymarine electronics, LeisureFurl in-boom furling mainsails. Boats equipped with these brands have those items all figured out. And here’s one more nautical surety, as reliable as the sun rising in the east: When you step aboard a yacht designed by seasoned naval architect Tim Jackett, you do so with the realization that it’s been extremely well thought out, that there has been a reassuring attention to detail, that it will sail like a bloody witch, that it will do precisely what it was created to do.

Which brings us to the latest ­example of Jackett’s vision, the Tartan 395 (which, not coincidentally, is fitted out with all the gear previously mentioned).

Like many American builders, Tartan Yachts, which is based in Ohio, has had its share of ups and downs in recent times. But Jackett is now one of the principal owners, and judging from the introduction of its new 39-footer at last fall’s U.S. Sailboat Show in Annapolis, Maryland, the company has again found its footing.

As Boat of the Year judge Tim Murphy said after inspecting the yacht, “It’s really nice to see Tartan back again. This is an interesting boat. It really brings together some nice elements of craftsmanship. You step below, and the big deck cowls are bringing lots of good air through there, and it’s just very comfortable. And you sit down in the cabin with that light maple finish (cherry and teak are also available), and it just looks and feels good. You feel like some real craftsmen have put this interior together.”

One thing Jackett is loath to do is fix things that aren’t broken, and so the 395 boasts features that have proved tried and true on previous appealing designs. Chief among these is Tartan’s elegant and versatile CCR (cruise control rig) sail plan, composed of double headsails (a self-tacking jib on an inner stay, a code zero reacher on the outer), set off a light double-spreader carbon-fiber spar. This configuration is an effective, efficient way to shift gears quickly depending on changes in the breeze or on the point of sail.

Nor has Jackett fussed much with the lines of the boat; it has a handsome, traditional-looking profile, with a very gentle sheer line, a relatively long coachroof, and stout coamings framing a deep and cozy ­cockpit. If your taste slants more toward slab-sided, expansive Euro topsides and contemporary razor-sharp hull chines, look elsewhere. This right here is a homegrown product of ’Merica, son.

It’s also a well-constructed one. Several generations of Tartans have now been built in an infusion process employing modified epoxy resin (not polyester like so many of its competitors) in a laminate that is sandwiched around closed-cell foam coring in the hull and balsa core in the deck. Tartan eschews the iron ballast many builders use in favor of good old lead (there are three underbodies available, including an optional deep fin, the standard “beaver tail” fixed keel or a keel/centerboard). Thanks to the company owning its own autoclave, not only is the rig carbon, but so is the rudderstock. Bottom line? There’s no squelching on materials.

“The anchoring system was beautiful, with polished stainless-steel chain, a stainless-steel anchor and a big, beautiful windlass,” said BOTY judge Alvah Simon. “It’s a good old-fashioned interior layout that just works. The pushpit, pulpit, stanchions, lifelines and gates are all terrific. The deck hardware is of high quality and well-installed. The little things really add up on this boat.”

Moving on, there’s a whole lot happening in the cockpit. In addition to the two pedestals for the twin steering wheels, there’s a third pedestal of sorts just forward of and between the helms, where the engine and lights controls are housed, as well as the Raymarine chart plotter. Built into the transom is a fold-down step to access a modest swim and boarding platform. The idea with the dual wheels and the transom door is to create a natural ergonomic flow from the companionway to the stern, but to be honest, it’s pretty busy terrain.

During our sailing trials, I absolutely loved driving the boat — it sailed great, like all Jackett’s boats, especially when we eased sheets in a nice Chesapeake Bay norther and the boat trucked along at an effortless 7 knots. However, the seats at the wheel seemed low, and I never could get totally comfortable. That said, I quite liked the German-style mainsheet that was ­double-ended port and ­starboard to big winches ­within easy reach of the driver.

Down below, there’s a tidy double cabin aft to starboard; a generous shower stall and head is to port. The forward-facing navigation station and a good-size galley are stationed to port and starboard, respectively, of the companionway. Comfortable settees flank a central dining table in the main saloon; there’s a second double cabin all the way forward. Eight opening ports overhead in the cabin emit plenty of welcoming fresh air. The Tartan 395 is not quite as beamy as the competing boats in its size range in the 2019 BOTY fleet, but resting there and taking in the surroundings, things felt snug and secure. Two words, ultimately, came to mind.

Proper. Yachting.

Herb McCormick is CW’s executive editor.

Tartan 395 Specifications

Tartan Yachts
440-392-2628
tartanyachts.com

Sea Trial

For a complete guide to ­Cruising World’s extensive online boat ­reviews and to request reprints from our older print archives of reviews, go to cruisingworld.com/sailboat-reviews.

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Most boats are nouns; the Maine Cat 38 is a verb — a boat that can be understood only in motion, and preferably under sail with a good breeze blowing.

Last March, I sailed the Maine Cat 38 Tamarack, hull number four, in the Sea of Abaco, Bahamas, with my parents, my college-age daughter and her friend. Meanwhile, one of 2018’s several historic winter storms was blowing through New England and the Canadian Maritimes, sending massive swells down our way and contributing to a squash zone of isobars on our local weather map. In the Abacos, that meant 20-foot seas offshore, rages in the cuts between cays and sustained winds edging toward 30 knots all week. Already on the Monday we flew in, Marsh Harbour’s supermarket shelves were empty of milk and fresh produce; for the next five days, the Bahamian mail boats were forbidden to leave the safety of their docks in Nassau. For us aboard Tamarack, the weather forced us to do all of our sailing inside the Sea of Abaco. But even in this usually protected sound, we encountered seas of 8 to 10 feet, sometimes breaking.

In those conditions, the Maine Cat 38 behaved like no other boat, monohull or multihull, that I’ve ever sailed. “This boat just gets up and frolics,” is how Sue Murphy, my mom, described sailing it.

Dick Vermeulen founded Maine Cat in 1993. Since then, his team of a dozen craftsmen in Midcoast Maine has launched some 140 sail- and powerboats, including 63 30-foot and 24 41-foot sailboats. Recently, Vermeulen created the Maine Cat 38 to return to simpler roots — a boat with no genset, no air conditioning, no microwave oven and just one head; a boat that a single person would be willing to take out sailing, with or without crew. And Vermeulen set himself one other goal: “This boat has to be the fastest cruising cat out there, or I’ve failed at everything I’ve done.” (For details about the genesis of the 38’s design, see “Birth of a Cat,” CW, July 2017.)

For our gang, mere speed wasn’t the priority. Yet the qualitative experience of sailing a boat whose creator took such care to keep the weight out was a revelation to all of us. Tom Murphy, my dad, has worked as a yacht broker for more than 30 years and has made hundreds of coastal and offshore yacht deliveries, often harrowing ones. “The way this boat lifted in 8-foot seas,” he said, “I mean, you’d see a roller coming in, and you’d tense up and steer into it and wait to take the sleigh ride down the back side and bury the bows — and that just never happened. Instead, you’d get up on top of a wave, and it would feel like the wave was flat, and you would just sort of come down with it. No pitch, no roll, no burying the bows or the stern.” Like me, he’d never experienced a boat that felt like this.

Vermeulen is a mechanical engineer by training. The effect he created in this boat is the result of a single-minded commitment to keeping weight out of it, both in the initial build and in the systems that go aboard. He determined that in order to achieve the speeds he was after, he needed 12-to-1 length-to-beam ratios in the hulls. A consequence of that choice is that you can’t then add all the weight of the luxury items you’d find on a typical production catamaran. Narrow hulls lack the buoyancy to carry heavy equipment or big tankage. Unlike similar-size models from high-production builders, the MC 38 isn’t intended to sleep more than five people; there’s just one marine head fitted in one of the hulls; and propulsion is not from twin diesels but from a pair of 9.9hp outboard motors. The galley stove has three burners but no oven. Cabin spaces are ­separated by drapes, not doors.

The construction of the hull and deck is different from that of the high-­production cat builders too. Typically, builders achieve complex curves in sandwich construction by using core that’s scored in slices called kerfs. When you bend a panel of scored foam, the kerfs open up; in the final composite part, the kerfs fill with resin. In a technique Vermeulen saw at Maine builders Hodgdon Yachts and Lyman-Morse, then developed with Gurit Composites, his team “thermoforms” Core-Cell foam in the shape of the final hull; this is unsliced foam, with no kerfs. His team heats the Core-Cell to 165 degrees Fahrenheit in an infrared oven, then infuses the fiberglass and core with vinylester resin. The result is a uniform part, with uniform physical properties. And the weight? “It’s ridiculous,” Vermeulen said. “When we built the first 38 hull, with three bulkheads in it, but 38 feet long, 6 feet wide and 6 feet of depth, it weighed 426 pounds. I could lift the hull out of the cradles.”

“It takes us a little longer to build hulls,” Vermeulen said, “but it’s just bomber.”

The boat we sailed was in charter service, managed by Abaco Multihull Charters based in Hope Town. It was fitted with good-quality cruising sails, but no screacher or full-on performance sails. Our reaching speeds were typically in the 9- and 10-knot range. We put the first reef in at 20 knots; second reef at 25. It tacked easily with both main and roller-furling headsail and both daggerboards down, but struggled to tack under main alone, as most cats will.

Motoring out of Hope Town Harbor into 25 knots and a steep 3-foot chop at 80 percent throttle with the twin 9.9 horsepower outboards, we made just over 3 knots of boat speed and heard the motors cavitate on every third wave or so. In those conditions, the boat felt underpowered. By contrast, in flat water we easily achieved motoring speeds of 6 and 7 knots.

“You probably know the little auxiliary engines on the MC 38 are by design,” Vermeulen said when I described our experience. “When I hear that sailors on other boats are under power 50 percent of the time, I cringe. If I make the engines small enough, MC 38 owners are going to sail all the time. With a screacher or code zero, the MC 38 will sail at 5 knots in 5 knots of true wind. Who needs motors except to dock or drop the hook? The way sailing should be!”

The experience I most enjoyed on the MC 38 was going forward under sail onto the trampolines as we reached past Tahiti Beach under double-reefed main. I lay face-down and watched the hulls move through uncommonly disturbed water. The 38’s leeward hull didn’t dig in; the windward hull didn’t lift out. No wave ever slammed the bridgedeck. The steep chop seldom even reached the longitudinal chine 12 inches above the waterline on each hull.

The Maine Cat 38 is a boat that positively dances through the waves.

CW editor-at-large Tim Murphy is a longtime Boat of the Year judge.

The post Maine Cat 38 Catamaran Review appeared first on Cruising World.

Conditions in Miami’s Government Cut were nearly perfect for testing the new Lagoon 40’s waterproof hatches. With a stiff onshore wind blowing straight down the channel to meet a brisk outgoing current, the cat’s bows plowed repeatedly into seriously steep waves, sending green water up and over the cabin top and raised helm, soaking Lagoon’s managing director, Yann Masselot, who happened to be at the wheel. Beneath the Bimini, though, sitting at the teak cockpit dining table and enjoying the splendid view — ahead through wraparound windows and astern across the wide-open transom — the ride was thoroughly dry and comfortable, as it should be on a catamaran capable of long-range cruising.

The 40 replaces a 39-footer in the Lagoon range as well as the popular Lagoon 400, which is being phased out after a 10-year run. Like its big sister, the Lagoon 50, it bears the look of a new generation of catamarans from the French builder.

Both boats were designed by a longtime Lagoon collaborator, naval architectural firm Van Peteghem-Lauriot Prévost, with exterior styling by Patrick Le Quément and an interior by Nauta Design. They made their North American debut last winter at the Miami International Boat Show.

This latest breed of Lagoons still carries the brand’s vertical saloon windows, but its cabin roofs and Biminis have evolved and now seem to float atop the house. Larger ports are embedded in the hulls, bringing loads of light into the living space within, and the masts have been located farther aft (reflecting lessons VPLP has learned from its racing multihulls). The new sail plan translates into larger headsails and higher-aspect-­ratio square-topped mains for increased power.

Once in open water, we cut the engines and sailed first with a full main and the self-tacking jib set. The breeze wavered between 15 and 20 knots and moved us along closehauled at 7 knots through boisterous chop. On a broad reach and with the (optional) genoa unfurled, I saw 7.8 to 8 knots on the GPS, which jumped to 9 on occasion as we took off surfing. Good stuff.

I found the raised helm station on the 40 to be quite user friendly. You could reach it from both the cockpit and the side deck, and from the two-person seat, visibility was good on all four corners of the boat. An overhead canvas Bimini provided protection from the elements, but was fitted with roll-up flaps and windows so you could see the sails overhead. Winches were within reach, and with all lines led to the helm, trimming and tacking shorthanded was straightforward.

Lagoon these days infuses its balsa-cored hulls (solid fiberglass below the waterline), bridgedecks and decks with polyester resin and a layer of anti-osmotic resin to prevent blistering.

Interior furniture on the 40 is made from a walnut-colored Alpi; the dark woodwork and leather accents on things like stainless handrails contrast smartly with light-colored fabrics that cover cabin sides and ceilings.

The boat we sailed had a single owners cabin in the port hull. Its queen-size berth was aft and a head and separate shower forward, with storage spaces and a desk in between. There were cabins fore and aft in the starboard hull, each with queen-size bunks and hanging lockers. They shared a large head and separate shower amidships. The 40 also comes in a four-cabin layout, with either two or four heads.

Upstairs in the saloon, a large dining table is forward to starboard and has an L-shaped couch around it. The nav station is to port; its bench can be moved to add more seats at the table for guests. The galley, also L-shaped, is to port and aft, a convenient location when the sliding saloon door is open because the cockpit table is adjacent to it. Across the cockpit, there’s a lounging area under the helm station; another cushioned, forward-facing bench spans the bridgedeck from transom to transom.

The new design reflects a change in CE regulations that require engine rooms to have hatches that open from the safety of the cockpit. Previously, on most cats, hatches were lifted while standing on the transom or transom steps. In a following sea of any size, the benefit is obvious.

The 40 comes standard with two 29 hp Yanmar ­diesels. Delivered at the factory in France, the base price is just under $330,000. The boat we sailed had optional 45 hp Yanmars and saildrives. The power upgrade, plus a host of other options, brought the sticker price up to just over $540,000.

Forty feet is an attractive size for cruising families and charterers who want to enjoy no-heel sailing and the living space a multihull provides. The length makes the boat easy enough for a shorthanded crew to handle and maintain, but large enough for bluewater passages. The Lagoon 400 had a good 10-year run of it. As its replacement, the 40 should enjoy more of the same, but with a fresh new look.

Mark Pillsbury is CW’s editor.

The post Lagoon 40 Catamaran Review appeared first on Cruising World.

Back in the day, it was not uncommon for a crew to turn up at a sailboat regatta and sleep on the boat it was campaigning. After the racing was over, often the owner’s family would arrive and cruise home. The sport has changed, but many of the wonderful true racer/cruisers of the ’70s and ’80s remain. The boats built by C&C Yachts in Canada are some of the best of that breed.

At nearly 200 launched, the Rob Ball-designed C&C 40 was one of Cuthbertson and Cassian’s most successful models. With a beautiful spring to her sheer, rakish stem, reverse transom and rounded cabin house that gently tapers into the foredeck, the C&C 40 looks fast just sitting on her mooring. But her wolfish exterior hides a sheep. The varnished teak interior is comfortable for a boat of this size and pretty standard for those times. There’s a large V-berth forward, aft of which a hanging locker sits to starboard opposite a roomy head and shower with two doors allowing access from the saloon or forward cabin.

The saloon features a centerline table with a pair of leaves that fold out of the way for passage forward. Long settees on either side are flanked by narrow pilot berths. A small hanging locker to port is a good place to store a couple of sets of wet gear. Immediately aft is a user-friendly U-shaped galley with ample storage for food and utensils, a large icebox, and a three-burner gimbaled stove with an oven. To starboard is a large, comfortable nav station separated by a partial bulkhead from a quarter berth big enough for two — if they’re good friends. Good lighting from fixtures and three large deck hatches alleviates the cavelike feel found in many teak interiors.

In the 1970s, reliable rope clutches hadn’t yet been invented, so the more performance-oriented boats, such as the C&C 40, boasted a plethora of winches, starting with oversize primaries and secondaries on either side on the cockpit coamings for the standard 150 percent genoa and the spinnaker. Up to four more graced the aft end of the cabin house for traveler, mainsheet and other controls. Six more were clustered around the mast for the halyards, pole controls and baby stay. Most 40-footers today carry far fewer winches: maybe a pair for halyards forward, mainsheet and main halyard on the house aft and the four (if that) on the coamings for sheets.

Potential problems with the boat mostly center on the balsa core that makes the hull and deck feel so solid. This needlessly scares a lot of potential buyers. The Canadian C&Cs have a well-deserved reputation for quality, so you will rarely find any issues with the hull. However, it’s worth hiring a good surveyor to test both the hull and deck with moisture meter and hammer. Most boats will test positive in a few deck areas, which, unless extensive, shouldn’t be a deal breaker.

C&C 40s were sold in three sailing configurations: a keel centerboard version with 5-foot draft, the standard 7-foot deep keel and a tall-rig, deep-keel version that added 18 inches to the mast and 6 inches to the draft. A three-cylinder 27 hp Yanmar diesel engine was standard and pushed the boat along at a little under 6 knots in calm water. Fortunately, the 40 is such a good sailer that even in light air it’s usually faster — and always more fun — to sail.

My wife and I find Peregrine, our C&C 40, to be quick, easy to handle and a joy to steer as we expand our home waters. We forgo huge racing jibs and set a 110 percent blade jib or an asymmetric spinnaker from a sock to pull us along. And we never fail to pause at the oars and admire our beautiful boat as we row ashore.

Former CW associate editor Andrew Burton is a delivery skipper who has logged more than 350,000 offshore miles.

The post Classic Plastic: C&C 40 appeared first on Cruising World.

A few years back, I departed Port Angeles, Washington, on board a fine little Truant 33 named Chesapeake and pointed her bow north toward the wild British Columbia coastline. I was 17 years old, and by then I had perfected the art of avoiding school by pirating the family boat and leaving the country for a few weeks at a time. The fact that I was using a boat called a Truant 33 as a means to enable my truancy was no small irony, but I can thank Truant Marine for a lot more than choosing a tasteful name.

The Truant 33 was designed by the legendary William Garden as a small seaworthy sailing vessel for cruising the cold, turbulent waters of the Pacific Northwest year-round in safety and comfort. Rare on vessels this size, the Truant 33’s pilothouse offers welcome protection from the region’s famous “liquid sunshine.”

The Truant 33 was first built in 1977 on Saltspring Island in British Columbia, where Truant Marine produced 30 or so vessels before selling the molds to Saturna Yachts in 1981. Saturna then built the almost-identical Saturna 33 throughout the ’80s, and eventually sold the molds to Wiggers Yachts in Ontario. There are usually a few used vessels to be found on the market, especially in the Pacific Northwest, with a price tag ranging from $30,000 to $60,000.

The Truant packs many unique features into her modest 33 feet, most notably the incorporation of the pilothouse and a very roomy and usable layout down below for living aboard. For those who prefer a more traditional cabin top, the offshore version was built without a pilothouse.

There are various interpretations of the classic layout, but the most common one is with a quarter berth and nav station to starboard with the inside steering station just forward and a dinette to port, which folds down into a double berth. Moving forward, there is a step down to a small enclosed head and hanging locker to starboard and a galley to port that rivals that of many 40-foot vessels. In the bow is either a large V-berth with stowage under or two staggered crew bunks with one raised to make for even more stowage space below. There is standing headroom throughout the cabin, and space to sleep up to five people.

Abovedecks, the Truant 33 has a very secure cockpit, which is given further protection by the pilothouse. The cockpit is small — a nice feature in heavy seas, but it makes for a bit of a squeeze when accommodating guests — though the roomy cabin makes up for that space.

She has a very prominent bow and canoe stern, which, along with her pilothouse, make her stand out in every harbor she visits.

She also sails surprisingly well for such a heavy boat of this size, and in rough weather gives a feeling of security and seaworthiness. The 30-inch-wide side decks and high bulwarks make it easy and safe to move around deck.

Most Truant 33s were set up as sloops, but I have seen where some owners added an inner forestay and running backstays to convert to a cutter rig. Underneath the waterline, she sports a long fin keel with a rudder on a skeg.

In my sailing career, I have more memories made aboard the Truant 33 than on any other design. Along the way we encountered plenty of challenges, yet she took me there and back again safely every time. And she still does.

Specs

Ryan Langley is a 24-year-old sailor, adventurer and writer from Washington state.

The post Truant 33 appeared first on Cruising World.

Back in February 2005, former CW colleague Nim Marsh wrote a story called “The New Sailing Machines” and explored the emerging genre of daysailers. It opened with a quote from L. Francis Herreshoff’s 1946 book, The Common Sense of Yacht Design, describing sailing friends who were tired of ocean racing: “What they want is to sail in the daytime … and sail fast enough to get the sensation of sailing. The only thing that will satiate the desire of these men is the sailing machine, and they should be allowed to have it.”

Each in its own way, the three sailboats Marsh went on to review — the Morris M36, Hinckley’s DS 42 and the Friendship 40 — were indeed sailing machines, from their carbon-fiber rigs to the cutting-edge foils they carried below the waterline. These were not stripped down racing sleds, but rather proper yachts with teak and varnish and price tags that ranged from $289,000 (the Morris) to just over $800,000 (the Friendship).

At the time, the M36 marked a turning point for Morris, which up to then had built mostly Chuck Paine-designed coastal and bluewater cruisers. According to then-Morris president Cuyler Morris, he and his father, Tom, had been talking about building a different sort of boat in response to customers who had less time to sail and wanted something they could step aboard, enjoy for an hour or two, and then tie to the dock. The story goes that Tom was visiting the Sparkman & Stephens office in New York when he saw a rendering of a wooden daysailer called Stormy; from that the M series was born. The range now includes 29-, 36-, 42- and 52-foot models. Morris Yachts, now owned by its next-door Maine neighbor, Hinckley, is currently further refining the M series by introducing performance-oriented “X” versions of the three smaller boats.

Late this past fall, on a day with a tinge of winter in the air, I joined Cuyler, now the company’s chief ambassador, at the Morris yard in Northeast Harbor, Maine, for a sail on the latest thoroughbred, the M36x. I quickly took a liking to the whole gentleman daysailer thing.

The boat’s carbon-fiber Hall Spars mast is a meter taller than the standard rig, and the M36x carries a 2-foot deeper keel and a longer high-aspect rudder that ensures it will twist and turn like a sports car ripping along a mountain highway. The infused vinylester-resin balsa-cored hull and deck are also a little lighter. All these add just under $130,000 to the $489,750 price tag of a standard-model M36. Even in race mode, sailing the 36x is simple and straightforward. Sheets and halyards are led to winches mounted on either side of the large wheel. An electric winch raises the main, which resides in a Leisure Furl boom when not in use; the self-tacking jib is effortlessly rolled out. Upwind at least, once the sheets are set, they can be forgotten. When it’s time to tack, put the helm over and you’re done. The sporty X package also includes a carbon-fiber sprit that can be extended on days you want to fly an A-sail.

It was blustery outside the harbor, perfect conditions to dip the rail occasionally as we beat to open water. Close hauled, the boat sailed like a witch and blasted through the puffs straight as an arrow. I’d have to say that a perch on the leeward rail with a couple of fingers on the wheel was the best seat in the house. The boat’s sailing instruments were cranky that afternoon, but I’d guess the wind was in the mid- to highteens. The speedometer hovered in the 6-plus knots range as we raced upwind toward Sommes Sound, and even jumped another knot or two with some of the bigger gusts as we eased to a reach. Accommodations below are both elegant and minimal: sitting headroom, a V-berth for napping, an enclosed head, and enough room to get out of the weather. But really where you want to be on this boat is up in the spacious cockpit, savoring the ride. That’s where I lounged as Cuyler took the helm and steered us back to the dock. Once there, he casually rolled up the sails, and the little Yanmar diesel sent us gliding into our slip. With the lines tied, we were done — simple as that.

Mark Pillsbury is CW’s editor.

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Fountaine Pajot and Lagoon may have been the largest catamaran builders to debut new boats during last winter’s Strictly Sail Miami Boat Show, but they weren’t the only ones. The most interesting of the other new cats, the Seawind 1160 Lite and the Gemini Freestyle 37, offered fresh, innovative takes on familiar, well-established platforms.

Perhaps befitting a boat that was conceived in Australia, the original Seawind 1160, of which well over 100 were built, was centered around the cockpit barbecue, a civilized idea if ever there was one. Pair that with the trifold door that opened the entire saloon and cockpit into one spacious central living area, and the 1160 packed a lot of cat into 38 feet.

Happily, those features remain the centerpieces of the 1160 Lite, which is now built in Vietnam. What makes the newer version unique is the elimination of the twin inboard diesel engines, which have been replaced with a pair of Honda 20-horsepower outboard engines that tilt up or down electrically. In addition to opening up vast lockers aft for sails, scuba gear, water toys and so on, they are easily serviced and save significant weight. And that’s been a theme throughout the boat, which has a clean, revamped interior with less wood; PVC closed-cell foam in the hulls; cored tables and furniture; a carbon-reinforced forward beam; and other innovations (like optional composite steering wheels) to keep the boat light and fast.

The other load that has been lightened with the 1160 Lite is the cash in your wallet to purchase one. At around $359,000 for a spanking-new ride, the cat also represents significant value.

The Gemini Freestyle 37 continued the minimalist trend. The basic boat starts at under $150,000, and it is indeed basic, with an open deck platform that can be tricked out or outfitted in countless ways. Add a hardtop canopy and modular deck furniture, and you have a fun, fast daysailing picnic boat. Take it a step further with hull accommodations and built-in furniture from the factory, and you’ve got a simple but able cruising boat. Want a “green” version? Go with the solar panels and electric engine. Or just add rows of deck chairs, as one tropical entrepreneur has done, and you have a ready-made sightseeing and snorkeling day-charter boat.

Now built by Catalina in Florida and backed by the solid pedigree of Gemini’s other popular models, the Freestyle 37 is one of the more original cats to come down the line in some time. The only limit to it is your imagination.

Speaking of compact catamarans, that’s the very definition of the South African-built TRU 32, a fully found cruising cat that’s just 32 feet long. This seagoing RV will appeal to adventuresome sailors who appreciate a lot of features in a diminutive package. Look for it this fall at the U.S. Sailboat Show in Annapolis, Maryland, where it will surely draw curious cruisers.

Unfortunately, another builder launching a new cat from South Africa, Tamas Hamor of Xquisite Yachts, didn’t have time to get his new 50-foot X5 cat to Miami, though he drew plenty of visitors to his booth with a tour of the boat via virtual-reality headsets. He also plans to show the boat in Annapolis, where his luxury cat will turn heads in real time.

–H.M.

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There’s a lot to love about today’s big and beamy sailboats. Sporty twin helms open up the cockpit, overhead arches keep sheets out of the way of lounging crew, and down below, the hard chines that are de rigueur in current design thinking provide interior volume that lets you live and entertain as comfortably on the water as you do at home.

Still, I have to admit my heart fluttered a bit when I stepped aboard the Hallberg-Rassy 43 Mk III. It is, after all, quite traditional by design, though it’s built using the very latest materials and outfitted with top-of-the-line gear and hardware. Covered with an abundance of teak abovedecks and rich, warm mahogany below, the HR 43 is lovely to look at and lively to sail. More on that in a moment.

The 43 was designed by longtime HR collaborator Germán Frers.Hallberg-Rassy built nearly 200 of the earlier versions of the boat prior to the launch of the latest iteration at last fall’s U.S. Sailboat Show in Annapolis, Maryland. Updates reflect elements the Scandinavian builder has incorporated into several of its other models, such as the HR 48, 55 and 64. Portlights have been added to the hull to let in more light, and seven of the boat’s 12 hatches open to let in plenty of air down below. In the well-equipped galley, counter space has been increased slightly. By adjusting the width and placement of the cockpit coamings above, the builder added headroom in the passageway between the sit-down nav desk and the owner’s cabin aft. And speaking of the aft cabin, a buyer can now choose between a centerline queen berth and portside sofa, or a double berth to starboard and a single sea berth to port.

With the latest design, owners have a choice of full-batten mainsail or in-mast furling main with vertical battens (which the boat in Annapolis had); the standard 6-foot-7-inch lead keel or a shallow-draft 5-foot-7-inch foil; and bow and stern thrusters for easier close-quarter handling.

On his Boat of the Year entry form, builder Magnus Rassy described the 43 as able to “go anywhere, anytime, for up to four people.” But really, this is primarily a couple’s boat that features a comfortable forward cabin for two occasional guests. The L-shaped dining area to port in the saloon is big enough for friends but intimate for two. Opposite, a pair of captain’s chairs would be ideal for a relaxing evening spent reading, though they can be replaced with a settee for an additional sea berth.

With the requirements of a sailing couple in mind, I would say that on the day of our sea trial, with a half-dozen people aboard, the center cockpit felt tight at times as the Boat of the Year judges and I moved about to trim sails and take our turns at the wheel. But that same space would likely feel just right for two people clicking off the miles. Standing watch under the hard dodger and behind the fixed windscreen would certainly be pleasant on a damp, breezy night. The wide wheel allows the helmsman to sit to either side to see past the dodger.

Winches for the double-ended mainsheet are close at hand on the deck, just aft of the helm station; the jib-sheet winches are located just forward of it. If I were buying the boat, I would opt for the standard pedestal; the owner of the boat we sailed chose a wide one that made moving around it somewhat awkward. I’d also consider a folding wheel to make going forward and below easier while at anchor.

Wide teak side decks and solid bulwarks, also capped with teak, ensure solid footing when moving about on deck; handrails on top of the dodger and running the length of the cabin top were an added bonus.

Hallberg-Rassys are bred for the chilly waters of northern Europe. The 43 comes equipped with a Webasto diesel heater, and the hull and deck are cored with Divinycell, which both reduces weight and provides insulation from heat and cold. (The area surrounding the keel is solid glass for added strength.) A layer of vinylester resin is used during the hand-layup of the hull to prevent blistering.

Throughout the interior, the woodwork appeared to be top-notch. The aft cabin included a private, en suite head and stall shower; the head and shower forward can be accessed from both the saloon and V-berth. Overall, I thought the accommodations looked quite comfortable and inviting. As luck would have it, we got to sail the 43 in a dying afternoon breeze. Still, in wind that hovered in the 5-knot range, we managed to keep the boat speed approaching 4 knots, and even pushed it toward 5 knots when we set a colored downwind sail for the ride back toward the harbor. Any boat will move along in lots of wind; the well-designed ones will keep pace when conditions are light. For the record, I loved the view from the seats fashioned into the stainless rails of the aft pulpit.

Hallberg-Rassys have a well-earned reputation for being no-nonsense cruisers, but like other top-end boats from Scandinavia, they come at a price. The base cost for the 43 Mk III is just under $600,000, though the boat we sailed, loaded with an electric furling main and lots of other options, including the hard dodger (canvas comes standard), was closer to $800,000 commissioned and delivered to the East Coast.

Price aside, sitting below and watching the light dance off the matte-finish mahogany as we sailed along, I couldn’t help but imagine a calm evening in some ­palm-fringed anchorage or ­p­ine-lined Down East cove. Almost without thinking, I found myself headed down the most fanciful of paths: “If this were my boat … ,” it began.

Mark Pillsbury is CW’s editor.

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