Over forty years ago, when my husband and I embarked on our five-year sailing adventure to circumnavigate the globe, the world was a different place. I was a different person. 

During ocean passages back then, we often saw swarms of flying fish and vast pods of dolphins that sometimes stretched from one horizon to the other. Coral reefs we explored were vibrant and home to a mind-boggling diversity of sea creatures. It was easy to find a good-sized fish to spear for dinner, and trolled lines usually scored a catch, even for fisher know-nothings like us. 

Weather forecasts were rarely available, so when it came time to cross an ocean, we departed on a nice day, oblivious of what the weather gods might be brewing along our route. Our primary source of weather guidance was the compilations of weather logs tallied by decades of roaming seafarers: the wind roses displayed on ocean routing charts.

When we began that voyage in 1980, I had completed three years of college toward a career in dentistry, relegating my love of all things weather to hobby status. A meteorological profession just seemed too impractical and unorthodox. But after spending five years cruising—thwarted, propelled, battered, and enthralled by daily weather conditions—I realized that the atmosphere was my calling. 

After the trip, I returned to school in 1985 to pursue a degree in meteorology with an emphasis on the Arctic. Why the inhospitable, cruising-unfriendly Arctic, you might ask? We had spent one summer exploring the high-latitudes north of Scandinavia: Norway, Svalbard, Jan Mayen Island and Iceland. Weather information was either non-existent or mostly useless, so I figured Arctic forecasting might be a worthwhile focus for my weather career. Plus, it’s an intriguing part of the globe that challenges scientific understanding with its complex interactions among winds, ice floes, ocean currents and harsh terrain.

While I was pursuing my meteorological studies at San Jose State University in the late 1980s, climate change was not yet widely recognized as a public crisis. That said, a few scientists had begun to ring warning bells about the effects of heat-trapping gases—the waste products from burning oil, coal and gas—on global temperatures and precipitation patterns. Even the fossil fuel companies acknowledged that burning their products would warm and disrupt the global climate. 

It wasn’t until late in my journey toward a PhD in atmospheric sciences at the University of Washington that the collective groundswell of scientists’ anxiety surged about the destructive impacts of the changing climate. The Arctic in particular was already showing signs of the long-predicted, wholesale transformation of that region. Sea ice was disappearing, high-latitude temperatures were soaring, the Arctic system as we knew it was coming apart at the seams. Change was happening much faster and sooner than elsewhere on the globe. This blatant evidence of human-caused climate change spurred me to set my research sights on understanding how and why it was happening, as well as its impacts on other aspects of the climate system. Whenever and wherever we cruised, my antennae were tuned to detect changes, both expected and unexpected. 

Fast forward to July 2009, we again set sail, but this time on a “family sabbatical year” of cruising with our two tweenagers. Saphira, an Atlantic 55 catamaran designed by Chris White, carried us on a circuit from New England to a summer in the Bras d’Or Lakes, then southward to Bermuda, the British Virgin Islands, Colombia and Panama, followed by a northward turn up the east coast of Central America via Honduras, Guatemala, Belize, Yucatan, Key West, Bahamas and back home. Along the way I noticed many changes. 

During our offshore passages, I wondered what happened to the large pods of dolphins and fleets of flying fish? While diving in Bermuda, it seemed the reefs were much less vibrant with life and color. Maybe it was due to hurricane damage, or, were rising ocean temperatures and pollution to blame? Some beaches in the BVI didn’t look anything like photos in cruising guides: once idyllic white sand was replaced by rocky shores. Beach sand does come and go with bouts of big swells, but the pervasiveness suggested erosion caused by sea-level rise could be at least partly responsible.

As we cruised through the San Blas Islands of Panama, my antennae picked up incontrovertible evidence of climate change. In several locations, our two-year-old charts indicated the existence of a small island. We found instead that the island had disappeared, replaced by a sand shoal completely submerged below the surface. While sea levels had risen only about 7 inches on average around the globe, the low-lying, unstable sand islets that make up the San Blas can be easily eroded even with only small changes in water height. 

Elsewhere in the islands were obvious signs of substantial erosion, as roots of trees and shrubs were exposed along their shores, and many coconut palms had toppled into the sea. In the western islands at least, sea life seemed greatly depleted and many beaches were buried in plastic garbage transported by the trade winds from the east. The primitive homes of the indigenous Guna people perched inches above normal high water, and already they contended with regular flooding. Altogether, it was a disturbing scene. I wondered how many more years the Guna could inhabit these islands where they’ve lived for centuries. 

That was 2009. More than a decade has passed, and my husband and I recently returned to the cruising life. Eight months a year we live on our new catamaran, another Chris White design also named Saphira. The pandemic prevented us from cruising to as many of the Caribbean islands as we had planned, but we have been able to return to the Bahamas, Virgin Islands, Lesser Antilles, Bonaire and Curacao. 

The news, I’m afraid, is even more disturbing. Coral reefs in the Virgin Islands, Bahamas, and northeast Caribbean islands (St. Martin, Antigua, Barbuda) have further declined. Most upsetting was our return to Conception Island in the Bahamas, a national park with no inhabitants or development. Back in 2010 we delighted in snorkeling around magnificent mushroom-shaped coral structures over 100 feet in diameter, seemingly growing out of a sea of perfect white sand in water so clear it was invisible. An astonishing variety of fish and sea creatures lived in the coral’s knobs and crevasses. Ten years later, in 2020, we returned to the very same coral mushrooms, excited for another chance to see these hives of sea life. But what we found instead were corpses; lifeless mounds of dead coral covered in a thick layer of brown algae. Only a few sergeant majors and barred jacks patrolled the area. 

It was hard to hold back tears. I knew the earth’s coral reefs were struggling, but this blatant transformation from brimming life to utter death felt personal and terrifying. Because Conception Island had no development, it seemed unlikely that pollution could have destroyed these thriving colonies. According to the National Oceanographic and Atmospheric Administration’s Coral Reef Watch program, the main culprits are rising ocean temperatures and disease, aided and abetted by overfishing.  

The news is not all bad. Our southward heading brought us to Bonaire and Curacao, where the corals are still healthy and teaming with life. Cruising friends report healthy reefs in parts of the Windward Islands, as well. These relatively healthy reef systems, along with local efforts to grow new coral colonies, can help restore this vital ecosystem, but only if we give them a chance. Further warming caused by emissions of heat-trapping gases produced mainly by burning fossil fuels must decline dramatically and rapidly, or else cruisers will encounter more and worsening impacts of these gases. 

Not only are oceans warming, but they are also becoming more acidic as they absorb carbon dioxide from the air, which is converted to carbonic acid in salt water. Higher acidity stresses marine creatures that form hard shells from dissolved calcium carbonate, such as corals and mollusks. Climate scientists like myself have known for many decades that increased greenhouse gases would have these impacts, and we’re now learning about the many ways that a warmer earth will cause stronger storms and more frequent extreme weather events of many kinds. Recent Atlantic hurricane seasons have shown us a glimpse of the future, with higher numbers of major tropical storms, more cases of rapid intensification, and heavier rainfall when they come ashore. 

We cruisers are acutely attuned to our surroundings, from weather and sea state to currents and marine life. We are also on the front lines of the impacts of a changing climate. As my husband and I continue to explore the planet by boat, I expect to see ever-clearer evidence of the monumental changes resulting from human activities to date. My research will continue to focus on uncovering details of why these changes occur and which regions will be affected.

Governments, businesses, and individuals can (and must) work together to reduce carbon emissions, curtail overfishing, prohibit harmful coastal development, and restore devastated marine life. The cruising community can help by getting the word out, volunteering in local efforts to repair and prevent damage, advocating for action, and minimizing our own impacts on the beautiful coasts we are so fortunate to visit. 

Jennifer Francis is acting deputy director and senior scientist at the Woodwell Climate Research Center in Falmouth, Mass.

The post Fingerprints of Change appeared first on Cruising World.

Nearly 20 years ago, the Pew Oceans Commission, which I was member of, released a report about the state of our oceans, and it wasn’t pretty. Overfishing, pollution, and habitat destruction were threatening the seas. When the commission ended, I knew one thing, as a sailor, I had to help. One of the biggest issues I saw was other sailors and boaters – an amazingly talented and civic-minded group – were not yet activated on behalf of the oceans we love.

A year later, in 2004, I co-founded Sailors for the Sea along with my friend, Dr. David Treadway, another avid sailor. There were 2.5 million self-identified sailors in the United States at that time. We had no idea how our community would respond. Some of my friends thought I was nuts – “David,” they would tell me “sailors want to go to the party after the regatta, not a rally for the oceans.” 

Still, we plunged ahead and set a goal of recruiting one percent, or 25,000 sailors, to join the movement to help save the oceans. We had success in getting attention and created some very important programs including Clean Regattas and Rainy Day Kits (now called KELP, or Kids Environmental Lesson Plans). However, we did not make much headway in hitting our 25,000 number.

Fortunately, we kept at it, ultimately merging with Oceana (one of the largest ocean conservation organizations on the planet), and in the last four years, something has clicked. Much of it is due to the hard work of our team and Oceana, but I think credit should also go to the new generation of sailors entering the sport. They want to become ocean activists and are now finding us. The sailing community seems to be well on its way to becoming a true force for saving the oceans. I am so glad Sailors for the Sea is there to serve them, our community, and the oceans.

Today, we’ve far surpassed our initial goal. In just the last year, we’ve grown an incredible 90% and now count more than 40,000 members—our community of Green Boaters who routinely speak up for our oceans and follow our Green Boating best practices. This is a big win for our oceans. In 2021 alone, more than 47,000 sailors participated in a Clean Regatta—which has potentially kept 675,000 single-use plastic water bottles out of waterways and waste streams—and 768 organizations, sailing programs, and families used our KELP activities to teach kids about marine science and environmental issues. We’ve also now recruited 16 Skippers, volunteer activists who are focused on organizing their local marinas, clubs, and community.

While there have been many gains over the last two decades, the oceans need our help now more than ever. Many of the problems that we uncovered in the Pew Oceans Commission report still exist – coastal development, invasive species, overfishing, and of course climate change are all taking a toll. Finding and implementing solutions takes vigilance, dedication, and commitment. But it’s worth it.  

As sailors, we know that life on land and in the oceans is inextricably linked, and the quality of our life—from the food we eat to the air we breathe—depends on a healthy, thriving, and biodiverse ocean. The good news is that we can achieve this. 

What are some things you can do? First and foremost, be an ocean advocate. Support the people and the policies that can make real, positive changes for our oceans. Whether you’re a sailor or just someone who cares about the oceans, you can sign up to become a Sailors for the Sea “Green Boater”. The more this community grows, the larger impact we can have. Are you involved with any sort of event planning? While our Clean Regattas sustainability initiatives are targeted at water-based events, most of the best practices can be implemented at any event. Have kids in your life? Take a look at our Kids Environmental Lesson Plans. It’s never too early to foster a love for the environment and improve ocean literacy. 

The health of our oceans depends on all of us, and the actions we take today to protect it help secure a better future for everyone.

The post Sailors for the Sea appeared first on Cruising World.

The start of a new cruising season is a time often filled with thoughts about the exciting new adventures ahead. As it should be. But it’s also a time to ponder how we, as individual sailors, can help make sailing a greener, more sustainable activity. While what follows is a far cry from mastering carbon sequestration or cold fusion, here are some simple ways we can all reduce our ­environmental wakes.

Chandlery choices. It’s incredibly hard to eliminate all single-­use plastics, but numerous manufacturers are working to reduce our dependence on these materials. Companies including B&G, Harken and Yamaha have pledged to reduce their dependence on unsustainable packaging, and green-minded customers are encouraged to support businesses that share these ethics. 

DC alternatives. Few sailors enjoy listening to marine engines rumble just to keep the batteries charged. Fortunately, today’s hydrogenerators and wind generators can keep the DC juices flowing, and solid options exist from manufacturers, including Eclectic Energy, Nature Power and Watt&Sea. (See the November/December 2021 issue of Cruising World.)

Grocery getting. Provisions are fundamental to any passage or cruise, but how one’s victuals come packaged can go a long way toward reducing the amount of garbage in our collective wake. If you’re buying shelf-sturdy items such as nuts, grains and dried fruits, check the bulk-food aisle. Some stores allow you to bring your own reusable containers (they’re weighed ahead of time) to eliminate single-use packaging.

Hydrate or die. Dock water doesn’t usually taste great, but bottled water generates plastics and microplastics. One smart option is to buy an RV-style, spigot-attached water filter (ballpark $30 from Amazon; not for use with saline) and a clean, dedicated hose. This inexpensive kit can be used to fill large onboard dromedaries, which, in turn, can fill or refill each crewmember’s reusable water bottle. 

ICE melters. It’s ironic that internal combustion engines are nicknamed “ICE machines,” given their CO2 footprints, but there’s optimism in today’s marine-specific electric motors. These range from DC-powered outboards to saildrive-style electric motors from companies including ePropulsion, Oceanvolt and Torqeedo. If your whip or dink needs repowering, go electric. You’ll enjoy quieter, vibration-free cruising and—given the automotive industry’s direction—likely increase your vessel’s resale value.

Toxin taming. When it comes to protecting coral reefs and the marine environment, not all sunscreens are created equal. Instead of falling for marketing lingo such as “reef safe,” read each product’s ingredient list and cross-reference it for known environmental toxins. Online resources exist at the Haereticus Environmental Laboratory and on Cruising World’s website, making it easier to protect your family from UV rays without harming the environs we all love. 

Second acts. Few commissioning activities are as exciting as bending on new sails, even if doing so begs questions about what to do with the old inventory. Companies such as Sea Bags Maine and Mafia Bags accept sail donations and repurpose old airfoils into duffels and totes. Other options include organizations such as Sails for Sustenance, which collects old sails and provides them to Haiti’s subsistence fishermen.

The post Sustainable Boating: Dive Into New Ways to Keep It Green appeared first on Cruising World.

One of the strangest things that I have to regularly explain to nonsailing friends is why ­engines are often run offshore to generate onboard DC ­electricity. While savvy friends understand that charging needs to happen if one is going to rely on their batteries, those less technologically inclined are sometimes stumped. And rightly so. If sailing is so green, they ask, why do sailors emit CO2 to keep their nav lights on? 

Contemporary sailors, though, have their choice of several alternatives to producing electricity without starting up their diesel engine, starting with solar panels and progressing to hydrogenerators and wind generators. While plenty has been written about solar panels, this ­technology depends on the sun, which is dormant during nighttime hours, and sometimes during the day too, especially on my home Pacific “Northwet” ­waters, as we like to call them. 

By comparison, hydrogenerators and wind generators are also highly effective, sometimes for entire 24-hour ­cycles, and can often satisfy all of a vessel’s DC-power needs. Alternatively, these generators can serve as part of a multipronged energy-producing system aboard yachts with significant DC-power needs to run heating and air conditioning, powered winches, refrigeration and the like. Here, then, is a look at how wind and water generators work, the benefits they provide, and some practical considerations for owners interested in greening up their onboard-power production.

Working with Water

As their moniker implies, ­hydrogenerators are electromechanical machines that ­harness the energy of moving water. Hydrogenerators typically capture this energy as ­alternating current, convert it to direct current, and then send it to a battery for use later. While ­hydroelectric dams are an ­everyday form of ­hydrogeneration ashore, ­marine-facing systems ­typically come in different sizes, and with varying charging capabilities, but most employ an underwater turbine consisting of a propeller or impeller that’s part of an assembly that hangs from a yacht’s transom or is fitted to its undercarriage, directly abaft the keel. 

“In essence, a hydrogenerator consists of an impeller ­designed to extract kinetic ­energy from the water, and an alternator to convert the rotary motion produced to electricity,” Peter Anderson says. He is Eclectic Energy’s managing director. Eclectic’s line of hydrogenerators employs a dive plane beneath the impeller, which allows the system to “fly” through the water at a controlled depth, similar to how a hydrofoil allows a boat to rise above the water at a ­desired height. This approach differs from other designs that resemble an outboard motor. 

“The amount of ­kinetic energy available in a fluid stream—air or water—varies as the cube of its velocity,” Anderson says. “For a water generator, this means even a modest increase in boatspeed produces a substantial increase in power output. Equally, at lower speeds, the amount of energy available falls rapidly, as do outputs.”

Because of the direct ­correlation between a vessel’s speed over water and a hydrogenerator’s ability to produce power, the size of its propeller or impeller matters greatly. Spec the system with too small a prop, and it won’t ­generate much juice; spec too large a spinner, and it will create ­excessive drag and could possibly break if a vessel’s speed surpasses certain thresholds. Because of this, most hydrogenerators come—or can be ordered—with different size impellers. 

With a properly sized system, hydrogenerator-induced drag is minimal, Anderson says. It could cost a 30-footer that’s making 6 knots roughly a 10th (or 1/5 of a knot) of boatspeed; this likely drops to an invisible metric for a 50-footer in similar airs.

Sabrina Huet, communication and sales manager at Watt&Sea, another hydrogenerator manufacturer, echoes this: “Our cruising hydrogenerators produce energy from boatspeeds of 2 or 3 knots up to 20 to 25 knots,” in the case of racing yachts. “It all depends on the propeller size. We offer four propellers with different diameters to accommodate different sailing speeds. The aim is to minimize the drag effect while optimizing the output. To put it in a nutshell: We suggest a bigger diameter for slower boats, and a smaller ­diameter for faster boats.”

As mentioned, as a boat moves through the water, ­hydrogenerators initially ­capture the energy from the spinning propeller as AC power, which is converted to DC. “Most modern generators use alternators,” Anderson says. “AC power is rectified to DC within the housing.” ­Watt&Sea’s systems work in a similar manner. 

As with other technologies described in this article, batteries are sold separately. A sailor can use any kind of battery, they would just have to check if a particular battery or battery bank requires any specific voltages, Huet says. If a battery or bank has needs that are different from Watt&Sea’s factory settings, those parameters can be changed easily, thanks to the system’s integrated mobile application. 

That said, it’s ­important to confirm that a yacht’s ­batteries are in good shape before connecting them to a hydrogenerator. “A ­minimum of 300 amp-hours at 12 volts is ­recommended,” Anderson ­advises. Most cruising yachts have at least 400 amp-hours of battery capacity, with 200 amp-hours that are usable. Batteries should not be routinely discharged below 50 percent, he notes, so it’s sensible to increase battery capacity if space and budget allow.

Both Eclectic Energy and Watt&Sea employ smart ­technology to ensure that their systems don’t create overcharging issues. “A charge ­regulator normally forms part of the ­installation,” ­Anderson says. “This terminates the charge once the batteries are full, which prevents possible damage through ­overcharging.” Once the battery or bank is topped up, the regulator then connects the generator to a power resistor in order to dump additional electrical energy.

Hydrogenerators can make great use of trade-wind conditions, however too much of anything becomes a negative. “Our hydrogenerators can withstand difficult conditions, but it’s essential to lift up a generator when approaching rough conditions, and to secure it with a rope or even ­belowdecks,” Huet says. “It’s also important to think about the lifting and lowering system, such as a hoist, to make the handling easier in both rough and calm seas.” 

“Prudence would suggest water generators be raised out of the water and possibly stowed,” Anderson says of preparing for heavy weather. “However, many owners report operating their Eclectic generators in storm conditions without problems.”

As with all systems, ­installation is an important consideration. 

Watt&Sea recommends hiring professional ­installers. Eclectic Energy, however, is more geared toward do-it-yourselfers. “Our generators are supplied with standard mounting hardware and installation instructions,” Anderson says. “Many owners do install these systems themselves.”

One concern for sailors—especially those who voyage in log- and debris-strewn ­waters such as the Pacific Northwest—is an encounter with an ­unidentified floating object, which could damage the impeller or propeller, or even the entire assembly. Much like during storm conditions, sailors are advised to retract their hydrogenerators based on ­localized conditions.   

The amount of power that a hydrogenerator can produce is an important and ­subjective question. Much hinges on how fast a boat is sailing (or ­motoring), the size of a hydrogenerator system, and the size of its impeller/­propeller. Because of this, Anderson and Huet advise customers to check manufacturer websites for more information about specific models and impeller/­propeller sizes. 

While the drawbacks to ­using a hydrogenerator—aside from turnkey costs, minimal drag, and attention to debris in the water—are minimal for sailors frequently on the move, the upsides are substantial, ­especially if you don’t care for the sound of a diesel engine or generator. “Water generation is the only renewable technology capable of matching the power consumption of a typical cruising yacht on passage,” Anderson says. “This removes the need for daily engine or genset runs to charge up the batteries.”

Counting on Breeze

The concept behind wind generators is equally ­simple, and most manufacturers ­rely on a turbine with blades that are exposed to airflow, which makes them spin. If this sounds to you a lot like an ­inverted (or dry) water generator, you’re spot-on—with a few ­exceptions. 

First, hydrogenerators are under the water’s surface, while wind generators are fitted on deck atop poles or on struts mounted on a mast. ­Second, wind generators are typically larger, employing longer blades, with greater cord widths than would be found on hydrogenerators. Third, since hydrogenerators depend on boatspeed to produce power, their performance is typically more consistent and not affected by small puffs and lulls of the wind. Lastly, the two types of generators typically produce different types of electricity.

 “All of our wind turbines produce DC Power,” says Dan Kruger, president of RDK Products. His company manufacturers wind turbines under the brand name Nature Power Products. “It starts out as high voltage, but through our controller, the system will step down the voltage to correctly charge your 12-volt batteries.”

Nature Power ­Products come with a generator, three carbon-fiber blades, and a charge controller. Customers need to supply their own mounting pole, and ­Kruger notes that most of his ­customers purchase theirs from fence stores. 

As with hydrogenerators, wind generators are ­available in different ­sizes, with ­different ­energy-­producing ­capabilities. Nature ­Power offers 400-, 500- and 2,000-watt systems. ­Kruger says: “These are designed to run most of your smaller ­electronics, televisions, GPS, fans and lights. They aren’t ­designed to power air conditioners unless you build a fairly substantial hybrid system that also includes a battery bank and solar energy.”

As with hydrogenerators, wind generators are compatible with a range of battery technology, including lithium and absorbed glass mat batteries. “A typical marine-grade deep-cycle 12-volt battery is fine for a basic wind-turbine system,” Kruger says. “Many sailors will have a bank of batteries. We also ­manufacture 24- and 48-volt ­wind-turbine systems for larger, more ­complex installations.” 

Determining the right-size wind generator for your sailboat starts with calculating your vessel’s power needs. “There’s no minimum-size ­vessel for a wind turbine to make sense,” Kruger says. “But if you’re getting into larger vessels, such as a Swan 88, you would definitely want to be looking at the Nature Power 2,000-watt system.”

Nature Power Products protect their connected battery or battery banks from overcharging by entering a “float” mode when the system’s controller senses that the storage ­reservoirs are topped off. 

As with windmills, wind generators are most ­effective in a good, steady breeze. The working range for Nature Power’s 400-watt system is 6 to 24 knots of wind, with 24 knots being the optimal windspeed. Kruger says that the goal is to expose the wind generator to steady, laminar flow, not ricocheting gusts. “The higher you mount the wind turbine, the cleaner the wind will be and the more efficiently your system will operate.” 

Too much breeze, he says, can be problematic. “The ­only time you would want to take down the unit is if you feel the storm might jeopardize the actual physical installation,” Kruger says, ­explaining that Nature Power Products are designed to withstand ­serious wind without sustaining ­damage to the turbine, its circuitry, or the connected battery or battery banks. The systems accomplish this by employing its float mode when windspeeds crest certain thresholds. “The system’s ­actual ‘survival’ windspeed is 96 knots,” Kruger says. 

While installing a wind ­generator isn’t a plug-and-play operation, the systems are relatively lightweight and generally require somewhat basic wiring schemes, making them DIY-friendly. Maintenance is also a typically easygoing affair. Kruger suggests ­replacing a system’s turbine blades ­every few years and installing the system’s controller in a dry place near the battery or bank. 

As with all technologies, wind generators have their downsides. Breeze can be an inconsistent actor, and ­air-density changes ­depend on atmospheric pressure and temperature, both of which can complicate a system’s ­daily output. Also, some generators are loud, making the owner unpopular, say, in a crowded anchorage. And while they are capable of ­impressive ­power generation while ­anchored in the trades, downwind runs—typical of trade-wind ­passages—reduce the apparent wind, ­rendering ­generators less productive. Lastly, ­depending on their ­installation, a wind ­generator can possibly interfere with running rigging and sails, or depending on their size, they might cast shadows on a ­vessel’s solar panels. 

Otherwise, wind generators can be a great source of green energy, and are ­commonly bundled with other green ­solutions to create ample ­onboard power.

David Schmidt is CW’s ­electronics editor and frequently reports on other types of gear.

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In a bid to add renewable-power generation as an option for vacation sailors, Voyage Charters offers a 48-foot multihull powered by electric drives; a 57-foot model is also on the drawing board.

That makes Voyage among the first, if not the first, to offer electric marine propulsion for charter. One other builder, Maine Cat, of Bremen, Maine, launched its first electric MC 38 LS-E sailing catamaran in September 2018, but as of yet, has no plans to add the model to its charter operation in Hope Town, Abaco, in the Bahamas.

The Voyage 480, of which one is now available for charter in Tortola, in the British Virgin Islands, will also serve as a demo for future electric Voyage Yacht sales, to the private market and to charter yacht owners. Like the 480, the Voyage 575 is under contract to also be equipped with electric propulsion, solar charging, hydrogeneration and a standby DC generator running off diesel fuel. Inclusion of a DC generator gives the vessel a motoring range comparable to a similar boat with a diesel engine.

Practical benefits of these cats, according to the company, include silent, cool motoring, as well as the ability to run reverse osmosis water systems without having to constantly run the generator and burn diesel.

“We believe that these electric boats will play a significant role in rebuilding the charter fleets and indeed the tourism industry in the British Virgin Islands, as more and more residents and visitors consider the environmental implications of everything they do and rely on,” says Voyage broker Peter Jones.

How does this new technology translate for bareboaters ready to book?

RELATED: Voyage Charters Recovers from Hurricane Irma

David Beavis, Voyage’s managing director of charter reservations, took time to answer a few questions. Worth noting is that midseason pricing for a bareboat charter aboard this cat is approximately 12 percent more than a standard diesel-powered Voyage 480. Sailors with the standard resume are qualified to take the electric cat out on charter.

Once at the base, charterers are taken through a comprehensive checkout. Specific to the electric model are tutorials on location and operation of the Oceanvolt SEA (Silent Electric Autonomy) system controls and displays and how to operate the vessel under power. Battery bank charge levels are also explained. Operating the electric cat is no more complicated than taking out a diesel-powered sailboat, says Beavis.

Perhaps even more innovative than the power supply is the support Voyage can provide during the charter. The Remote Service Interface that’s part of the Oceanvolt SEA system aboard the Voyage 480 enables the boat to be connected to a Wi-Fi network. This in turn allows the base staff, as well as Oceanvolt technicians, to remotely monitor, diagnose and troubleshoot system issues on the boat.

Voyage, which took a significant hit to its fleet during the record-breaking hurricanes of 2017, has rebounded. The company’s Soper’s Hole Marina office and reception area on Tortola are fully operational. For details contact the company.

The post Going Electric on Charter appeared first on Cruising World.

In Costa Rica, a wooden ship is being built. The keel foundation is laid, milled timbers are drying and a skilled team from around the world is gathering at SailCargo Inc.‘s so-called “jungle shipyard.” The ambitious undertaking, which has been watched by the international community for nearly two years, is finally bearing fruit.

Ceiba (pronounced “say-bah”) will be a three-masted square-topsail schooner designed to carry cargo. By drawing special attention to the business plan, initial skeptics have already been subdued: SailCargo has secured letters of intent from clients, ranging from several countries, who are eager to employ the ship’s services of emission-free cargo as soon as possible.

As one future client, Kent Goodwin, founder of Canadian bean-to-bar chocolate company Organic Fair, stated, “Ceiba is the missing link in my otherwise sustainable supply chain.”

In three to four years, the 150-foot Ceiba will ply the Pacific waters of the Americas.

The ship will carry organic avocado oil, ethically sourced green coffee, raw cacao beans and Canadian barley, used for the craft-beer market. Ceiba will be able to carry approximately 250 tons and up to 350 cubic meters of freight, with more space available on deck.

This project is funded entirely by individuals investing in shares, which begin at just $100.

For more information, or to support the project or join the team, contact info@sailcargo.org.

The post Cargo Ship Being Built in Costa Rica appeared first on Cruising World.

If you get a big enough chart, sailing from Maine to Bermuda looks easy. You’ll drop the mooring in Portland, motor east until you finish your coffee, get the sails up and point her south. Along the way, you’ll pass through at least three marine protected areas plus the Gulf Stream, and you imagine that these will inspire you with glorious sea mammals, birds and wonders of the deep.

That was my daydream, anyway, and the marine protected areas delivered, but wow, the sailing was hard on body, boat and spirit, with headwinds, steep seas and gusty nights. In short, we got our butts kicked going down there, but the splendors of wild nature compensated for the broken rigging. While there’s much to say about the mistakes I made as a sailor and the lessons I learned en route, there’s even more to say about encountering whales, dolphins and coral in ocean spaces favored with environmental protection.

I assembled an eager crew for this classic passage, though not one you’d confuse with professional racers or delivery skippers. We were neither polished nor salty. My work and my home are in Utah, but I go back to sea level and launch my old Beneteau First 42, Nellie, whenever I can. This Bermuda venture was her longest passage yet. Derek Holtved is a climbing friend from Banff, Canada, who once crewed on 12-Meters. He is the most competent sailor I know, with a dogged attention to detail and an aptitude for mechanical invention. Rieko is married to Derek. They met in Japan, and she’s much bigger than her 4-foot-10-inch frame. She has plenty of saltwater knowledge from the time she and Derek lived aboard their own boat. Last but rarely least is my father, Ted McCarthy — 75 years old for this voyage, with a lifetime of sailboat racing behind him and an abundant supply of anecdotes involving running aground, hitting other boats and dragging anchor, each of which makes Derek grumble, mutter and blush.

43.55° N and 70.10° W. Wind SW 11. Seas 2 to 3 feet.

We left Portland Harbor on the tide and set the big genoa to beat into a southwest breeze, and soon Derek and I were talking through our philosophies of sailing. He argued that sails are set to reach a waypoint; I held that sails are set to put us in the best relation to nature’s forces. Derek said, “So I use nature to go great places, and you go to the great places nature sends you.”

“Yes,” I said while adjusting the genoa car. “And we both feel better for it.”

If sailing invigorates us through close contact with the wilderness, then marine protected areas (MPAs) are the places sailors will feel most alive. At heart, MPAs are as straightforward as their name — they are marine environments legally dedicated to the preservation of natural and cultural resources. Basically, these areas promote biodiversity and systems resilience in the face of harsh forces like pollution, overfishing or ocean acidification.

But they’re not fenced zones excluding you; most MPAs allow some extraction, and nearly all invite visitors, balancing the interests of conservationists, fishermen and other economic stakeholders. Cruisers can see firsthand the ways MPAs refigure stressed marine environments into healthy parcels where depleted species can repopulate and ecosystems can rebound. There are tiny MPAs, such as Buck Island Reef National Monument’s 176 acres in the U.S. Virgin Islands, and huge ones, such as Papahanaumokuakea’s 500,000 square miles in the northwestern Hawaiian Islands.

42.15° N and 70.10° W. Wind SW 21. Seas 4 to 5 feet, with building chop.

You don’t have to go to the exotic edges of the planet to experience MPAs. We sailed right through the amazing Stellwagen Bank Marine Sanctuary, jibed past the new Northeast Canyons and Seamounts Marine National Monument, and spent days within Bermuda’s protected coral reefs.

In Stellwagen Bank, I saw a right whale on our first day of sailing, and we were still close enough to shore that I had a Red Sox game on the radio. Rieko was at the helm, and from the top of a swell, said, “See that?” She pointed to port, and two waves later, a splash was clear against the sunset. I assumed it was a humpback, but when it came up two more times to blow, I could see the head coloring and black fins did not match my expectations. Right whales are endangered and long-hunted creatures now making a slight rebound in protected areas. Derek and Rieko wondered at this ocean display so close to New England’s biggest city. A look at the chart showed Stellwagen Bank like a catcher’s mitt between Cape Cod and Cape Ann, all set to receive whatever Boston pitched seaward. First, we saw these bobbing, spouting right whales, and later, a group of rowdy humpbacks, slapping their fins and breaching in a cloud of seabirds. The sanctuary’s rules are clearly marked on all charts — mandatory ship reporting in critical right whale habitat — and they seem to be working.

39.49° N and 69.50° W. Wind SW 19. Seas confused.

Three days out, with hundreds of miles to go, my dad and I chatted through the 0400-to-0800 watch. Despite the big wind, I found this watch easier than the midnight-to-0400 shift because the sun was coming up, and with the day came visibility, warmth and then breakfast. The sleek head and back of a dolphin bobbed and submerged, bobbed and submerged, and I hoped he would bring a friend to play on our bow wave. It was our proximity to the Gulf Stream that brought the wildlife this time — too rough for commercial fishing, too deep for drilling — protected by its own heat and momentum.

These encounters with living sea creatures mattered. Biologist E.O. Wilson coined the term biophilia for that unnamable connection humans feel toward animals — “the urge to affiliate with other forms of life,” as he put it. Out at sea, days from anything more solid than sargasso weed, I felt the warmest affection for this passing mammal, and I waved as you would acknowledge a stranger on a country road.

I love that sailing brings me closer to nature. There’s the rapt attention to sea state, clouds and breeze, and there are the hours in the cockpit where my eyes and ears conform to the rolling swell and open to the variation of a whale’s breath or a shearwater at work. In a sailboat, I become part of the sea’s broad rhythms and open myself to the nuances of a natural world that my terrestrial life tends to obscure behind Netflix and big-box stores. My dad quoted Wordsworth, who celebrated a heightened nature sensitivity: “So might I, standing on this pleasant lea, / have glimpses that would make me less forlorn; / have sight of Proteus rising from the sea; / or hear old Triton blow his wreathed horn.” Exactly right. These old sea gods recede when I am getting and spending, but they come back in a hurry as I reef a sail at night or pray for a fair current. Ahead, the Gulf Stream’s train of tall clouds puffed always west to east, west to east. Around us seabirds bobbed in the warm waves. Tacking along with two reefs and the small jib, we were focused on the natural systems that carried us along and rewarded us for our attention.

35.56° N and 68.17° W. Wind SE 14 and building. Seas 4 feet and confused.

Out on the other side of the Gulf Stream, our attention to nature wasn’t what it could have been. Derek and Rieko were paying full care to the size of our sails — one reef in the main and a partially furled jib moved us at a steady 5 knots through mischievous seas — but sliding past us was yet another Mylar balloon. This one read “Party!” The ocean was speckled with this garbage. Was there once an innocent, pollution-free time? A time when a vibrantly red sunset meant good weather would follow and not excess particulates clogging our atmosphere? We were 300 miles from Bermuda, floating on 12,000 feet of open water, but we still saw flaps of plastic and foam cups. Byron wrote, “Man marks the earth with ruin — his control stops at the shore.” I hate to burst these Romantic bubbles, but it seemed to me that our vast and limitless oceans are actually the primary casualties of climate change. Most notably, the Atlantic that rolled under me is both warming and acidifying thanks to high levels of carbon in the atmosphere.

MPAs are one way to advance the cause of sustainable seas — by taking the pressure off one fertile zone, the whole system rebounds. Just as any sailor knows it’s time to adjust course when they are sailing by the lee, we need to recognize that signs of an ocean in crisis are all around us: one-third of the Great Barrier Reef bleached in 2016; acidifying waters suppressing mussel populations on the coast of Maine; heat expansion bringing us sea-level rise; warmer water killing coral from Tortola to Kiribati. According to the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, the three hottest years on record were 2016, 2015 and 2014. If the ocean absorbs three-quarters of that global heat, it should be no surprise that there are bigger storms coming to further tax the ecosystems of every shore. Looking to windward, it’s clear that sailors are on the front lines of these changes. We can take an active role in witnessing ocean change and advocating ocean health.

Mother and baby Atlantic spotted dolphins (Stenella frontalis) swim together in the sandy shallow waters of the Bahamas.

32.7° N and 64.4° W. Wind S 9. Seas 2 feet.

When a forestay breaks at sea, there’s a special kind of sound. Just over 20 nautical miles out from Bermuda, I was at the nav station admiring our progress when a thumping pop made the boat shudder, and I felt something bad, something structural. Derek knew what it was immediately — “Forestay!” — and things were happening fast. On deck, the genoa and furling gear were pressing into the shrouds, tumbling in slow motion. Wrestling the spinnaker halyard through that tangle to affix it forward while crying, “Slack, slack! Tension!” was the work of a long minute. Dropping the sail and lashing the rigging aboard took longer, and we had time to appreciate the daylight and the calm sea. We were unlucky to break the forestay, though lucky to do it by day; unhappy to need repairs, but glad to be so close to shore. Motoring through St. George’s Town Cut near midnight, we felt relief mingled with humility and plenty of gratitude toward providence.

When I woke up, I woke up on Bermuda. This unlikely seamount, preserved by the same coral reefs that threaten sailors, has its own story of marine protection. At the Bermuda Institute of Ocean Sciences (BIOS) Chris Flook told me that Bermuda has protected sea turtles from overfishing since 1620. 1620! ­BIOS Ocean Academy director Kaitlin Noyes explained Bermuda has the Atlantic’s northernmost coral reefs, and they are critical ­libraries of marine ecology while southern reefs bleach and suffer.

I swam with Chris and Kaitlin beside North Rock, marked on my chart as a shallow to avoid like grim death in a sailboat, but when seen from underwater, it’s a gloriously thriving ecology of brain corals and star corals circled by parrotfish, grouper and myriad creatures. This ecosystem is one of several dozen MPAs in Bermuda, and it was heartening to feel that same ocean that rocked me from Maine course through the healthy fans and branches of living coral.

38.1° N and 67.4° W. Wind SW 12. Seas 3 to 4 feet.

After nine days of sweaty boat fiddling, I left Bermuda with a new crew and a new forestay. It was a relief to be moving, a necessary change to the tedious round of asking after parts not delivered and speaking politely to tardy mechanics. We motored out with the sunset behind us, and once we could leave North Rock well to port, turned north under full sails. Whitney, my wife, is a good sailor. She loves nothing better than snorkeling among tropical fish, and she had pointed to Bermuda’s oversize footprint on the big chart and said, “Imagine all those miles of reef, all those fish. What a paradise.” Now she was eager to see dolphins, whales and sharks. On that same plotting chart, I penciled quick circles around the marine sanctuaries, preserves and monuments in our path to Newport, Rhode Island. These were the places she was most likely to encounter the sea life that inspired her sailing. One of the newest MPAs is the Northeast Canyons and Seamounts Marine National Monument, 120 miles southeast of Cape Cod. We hadn’t planned to go near it on this leg, but on day three, the Gulf Stream hit us with 25 knots of breeze from the southwest and then a series of westerly squalls that soaked our plans in flying spray. Ten hard hours saw us 60 miles east of our line and barely a daysail from the new monument. Unlike, say, Devil’s Tower or Gettysburg, sea canyons are not something you can spot from a distance or tour in a bus. But a healthy ocean has its language too, and in the morning, Whitney spotted a spout to starboard, and then another. Before long, she had the rhythm and guided us to the long forms of North Atlantic fin whales feeding in the middle distance.

The Northeast Canyons and Seamounts Marine National Monument was designated in 2016 to manage the waters above three canyons 4,000 meters deep and four undersea mountains with 2,000 meters of relief from the ocean floor. The monument aims to shape spawning grounds and habitat into a pocket of resilience amid an ocean of pollution and fishing gear.

41.47° N and 71.32° W. Ida Lewis Yacht Club, Newport.

MPAs are a bright spot in the gloomy conversation about ocean health. We reached Newport in 115 hours from St. George’s, in time for July Fourth festivities on the harbor: hundreds of boats and people, fireworks and music. These happy mariners seemed ready to agree with Arthur C. Clarke’s observation, “How inappropriate to call this planet Earth when it is quite clearly Ocean.” There was a sea story in each of these skiffs, dories, tugs, racers and ferries. Nellie’s Bermuda trip was one tiny sailing tale, but in its brushes with ocean conservation it carried an optimistic message to offset climate-change fatalism.

The voyage to Bermuda and back showed me a lot of ocean, and successful efforts for protecting it. In my log’s notes, a white-sided dolphin leapt clear of the Gulf Stream, coral fans fluttered in the Bermuda current, humpbacks fed in Stellwagen Bank — all these gave me hope for a cruising future that includes turtles, corals and the great whales that brighten even our foggiest days.

– – –

Jeffrey McCarthy is director of the environmental humanities graduate program at the University of Utah.

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Writing a message, inserting it into a glass bottle, corking the end and throwing it overboard is a traditional rite of passage for many offshore sailors. Tossing a message in a bottle is similar to playing the lottery, in that the value is in the dreaming and only rarely in the actual outcome. With a message in a bottle, one can dream of the distant shore it will wash up upon, and who will find the message while beachcombing.

My husband, Eric, sent his first message in a bottle while on a college research program sailing from St. Petersburg, Florida, to the Dry Tortugas, a small island cluster 60 miles west of Key West. Several months later, he was lucky enough to receive a nice letter from an elementary-school group that found the bottle while participating in a science program on a beach near Fort Lauderdale. The bottle had clearly been entrained in the Loop Current in the Gulf of Mexico, navigated the Straits of Florida and exited the Gulf Stream north of Miami, making a timely escape before the long passage across the Atlantic Ocean.

Several years later, we deployed several messages, safely corked in bottles, as we crossed the Pacific Ocean on Rouser, our Tartan 37, during a two-year voyage originating near Seattle and ending in New Zealand. So far, not a single one of these messages has been recovered. But that hasn’t prevented us from dreaming about their respective paths through the seas and where they might one day be found.

Most recently, we have introduced our three young children to the experience of sending messages in bottles as we crossed the Atlantic Ocean. Our passage, on our trusty Westerly 49, Laridae, originated in Scotland and ended in the Caribbean, with calls in Spain, Portugal, the Canary Islands and the Cape Verde islands. This time, however, the messages that our children launched were much different. The innovative concept began when one of our children naively asked us why we didn’t know where our previous bottles were located. As with most things, each new generation has a more contemporary take on things, even age-old traditions such as this. Why couldn’t we track our messages? People track boats, dogs, phones and even the location of their keys these days.

Our messages keep to tradition in some ways, but wildly deviate in others. We decided to attach our standard message-carrying bottles to modern drifting buoys that transmit their position to a satellite. Now, we all get to track their meandering routes across the ocean and, with the understanding of surface winds and ocean currents, make educated guesses of where they will ultimately go.

Drifter Buoy Technology

Our friends at Marine Instruments, an innovative technology company in Spain, donated the drifting buoys for the project. The MSi drifter buoys (marineinstruments.es/tuna-fishing/buoys-msi-blue) contain a GPS for positioning, an Iridium modem for satellite transmission of the position and a small solar panel to keep the batteries charged. The drifters transmit their GPS position every 12 hours via the Iridium modem. The drifters do not have a sea drogue and have very little exposed windage. As a result, they drift primarily with the ocean surface currents found in the top few feet of the water. This surface layer is the same layer that affects sailboats with typical drafts from 4 to 8 feet. Current lore of the tropical Atlantic Ocean is that the buoys should drift mostly downwind, at an approximate speed of half a knot. Our friends at Nortek Data Services have graciously volunteered to host a webpage that plots our sailing route and the position and path for the three messages tied to the drifting buoys.

Writing the messages in the bottles was a fun group activity. Prior to leaving Scotland, we had a bon voyage party with our children where their friends wrote messages for inclusion in the bottles. Later, having joined Jimmy Cornell’s Barbados 50 rally to cross the Atlantic, we invited all of the kids and adults to write messages and draw pictures to include in the bottles. The three bottles were corked on the dock in Mindelo, an island in Cape Verde, and tied securely to the three drifting buoys. The drifters were given letter identifications after our kids’ names: Drifter A for Anneka, Drifter D for Dorian and Drifter E for Eliana. Each of our three children decorated their bottle and their assigned drifting buoy and added the words “Read Me” in large letters.

Drifter Buoy Deployment

We launched the message-filled bottles and drifters on days three, four and five (November 11-13, 2016) after departing Cape Verde on our 2,100-mile passage to Barbados. The drifters were deployed with an equal spacing of 2.5 degrees of longitude (approximately 145 miles apart at this latitude) at the positions: 15°N, 30°W (Drifter A); 14°N, 32.5°W (Drifter D); 13.5°N, 35°W (Drifter E). The drifters were deployed in age order of our children, but it helps that this is also (accidentally) in alphabetical order. When we set out the first buoy, the true-wind speed was about 25 to 30 knots from the northeast to east-northeast. The wind slowly diminished to about 25 knots for the second drifter, and to around 20 knots when the third drifter was launched.

Trained as a physical oceanographer, Eric was very excited to sail across the Atlantic Ocean and compare our knot-log speed (speed through the water) with our GPS speed (speed over ground) to try to estimate the ocean-­current speed. However, within moments of departing the dock, we learned that Mindelo’s harbor inspires a lot of critters to make themselves at home on the hull, and our knot log was fouled with new growth. While surfing down waves with 35-knot gusts, funneling through São Vicente Canal between the islands of São Vicente and Santo Antão, serious soul-searching had to be done. Should we divert course to a protected anchorage in order to jump overboard to clean the speedo, or should we continue to enjoy the first few hours of our grand departure, sailing in close company with the 30 other boats around us in the rally, and live for the next two weeks without the knot-log data? After our recent showers and the knowledge that few showers were in store over the next few weeks, the fresh, clean feeling won out over a salty swim. We decided to continue on toward Barbados, sailing within sight of our fellow rally boats, but without a working log to be able to estimate ocean currents. Fortunately, the drifting GPS buoys were able to satiate our interest in the ocean currents, and following their course across the Atlantic Ocean has been fascinating for the entire family.

Tracking the Drifter Buoys

When the drifters were deployed, the trade winds were blowing from the typical direction of northeast to east-northeast at a speed of about 25 knots. For the first five days (and 100 miles of buoy drift), the buoys followed our path so closely that we received an email from Eric’s father asking if we had tied them to our transom and were towing them along. Even though the drifters were directly following our path, the buoys were not drifting exactly downwind. We had been sailing on a starboard tack, with a wind angle of about 140 degrees. Therefore, the buoys were following an angle about 40 degrees to the right (clockwise) of the wind direction. This is consistent with how surface currents should be oriented with respect to the prevailing wind direction.

The rotation of Earth causes the Coriolis force to direct the near-surface currents about 45 degrees to the right (clockwise) of the wind direction in the Northern Hemisphere. The clockwise rotation of currents continues with increasing depth to form a spiral pattern called the Ekman spiral. The Ekman spiral is a root of nontidal sea-level variations along the coasts, as well as the large ocean gyres in the open oceans and resulting currents, such as the Gulf Stream.

In late November, about 10 days after our departure from Cape Verde, the trade winds dropped substantially. Luckily, we were already west of the weakened wind zone, but many participants in the 2016 Atlantic Rally for Cruisers encountered a huge wind hole in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. During this time of decreased wind forcing, the drifters started moving in a more northward direction toward the north-northwest, again turning to the right of their intended westward direction due to the Coriolis force. The north-northwest drift persisted for another 10 days before the typical east-northeast trade winds kicked back in and carried the drifters westward again.

As the drifters approached the Caribbean island chain, we expected that they would be pushed substantially northward. Before crossing the Atlantic, we had been warned to make sure we had achieved enough southing before we reached Barbados, because there could be a strong northwest current that would be difficult to fight against if we needed to get farther south to clear the shoals on the south side of Barbados. However, there was little evidence of any substantial northwest component of current until the drifters reached the longitude of Guyana (approximately 150 miles east of Barbados).

Amazingly, Drifter E passed within 5 miles of the south coast of Barbados, which was precisely the path that we navigated! It is highly unlikely that we could ever again release a drifter 2,000 miles upwind and expect it to arrive within 5 miles of our destination. Drifter D entered the Caribbean Sea by passing between Dominica and Îles des Saintes. This is a route heavily traveled by cruising sailboats, and it is fun to wonder how many fellow sailors passed right by the small drifter without noticing it. Drifter A, released first, was most recently reported to be passing north of the Caribbean island chain. Over the past six months, the drifters have traveled approximately 2,200 miles. After all of that distance, Drifter D and Drifter E were only about 250 miles apart.

In summary, the drifters moved with the surface currents at an average speed of approximately half a knot. In times of increased trade winds, sailors can expect stronger surface currents that are oriented about 45 degrees to the right of the prevailing trade-wind direction in the Northern Hemisphere. However, if the trade winds relax, it is important to note that the surface currents can weaken, change direction or even reverse against you for a short period of time.

Where Will the Messages Go Next?

All three drifters were deployed within about 300 miles of one another. However, over the past six months, and 2,200 miles later, two have taken a similar path into the Caribbean Sea, and one has drifted north of the Caribbean. Drifter A, having been carried north of the Caribbean, will likely slowly continue northwestward toward the Bahamas, carried by the prevailing southeast trade winds in the spring and summer season. Eventually, it will likely be entrained in the Gulf Stream and join the ocean highway back across the Atlantic toward Ireland.

Drifters D and E are in the Caribbean Sea and will likely continue to drift slowly westward, possibly passing between Jamaica and Honduras, before getting caught in the headwaters of the Loop Current that originates between Cuba and the Yucatan Peninsula and entering the Gulf of Mexico.

There are a number of great online resources that show measured and predicted ocean surface currents around the globe. We encourage you to track our drifting messages in bottles, research the prevailing trade winds and surface currents, and place your bets on where the bottles will end up. We all look forward to learning of the lucky but unsuspecting beachcombers who find these unique creations.

– – –

In 2002-2003, Eric, a ­physical oceanographer, and Angela, a mathematician, crossed the Pacific, from Seattle to New Zealand. Nearly 15 years and three children later, the family crossed the Atlantic from Scotland to the Caribbean aboard Laridae, their 1995 Westerly 49.

The post Modern Message in a Bottle appeared first on Cruising World.

If making eco-conscious choices has become a habit at home, why not continue it while cruising the islands? We asked Hilary Kouton, the social impact director for Sailors for theSea, what easy tips she could recommend to lessen the environmental impact of your next sailing vacation.

Bring Reusable Bags

and Water Bottles Reusable shopping bags are handy to have along, and make carrying your provisions back to the boat much easier. When not in use, they’re small and easy to pack in your luggage. Encourage each member of your crew to bring a water bottle (and refill it regularly), which will reduce waste aboard and help everyone stay hydrated.

Choose Your Sunscreen Wisely

Oxybenzone, a common sunscreen ingredient, is harmful to coral. Protect the reefs and your skin by choosing a sunblock with zinc oxide or titanium dioxide as the main ingredient. For a list of reef-safe sunblock, visit www.ewg.org/sunscreen.

Moor More

Anchors can wreak havoc on fragile sea-grass beds and coral. When you’re choosing a place to settle in, take a mooring when available. If you must anchor, try to set it in sand, where you can see the bottom.

Reduce Packaging

Trash can be tough to store aboard, and disposing of it is a big challenge in remote locations. Lessen your trash burden by choosing items with minimal packaging while provisioning. Buy in bulk when possible, and purchase water and soft drinks in larger bottles and jugs.

Buy Local

Trying new foods, especially local fruits and vegetables, is a highlight of your charter vacation. Check out the produce selection at a market or farm stand (don’t forget your shopping bags) and you’ll support the local economy while reducing your carbon footprint. Sunsail’s base in the British Virgin Islands makes this even easier by offering a farm box full of organic local produce as part of its provisioning options.

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BUT don’t get overwhelmed by the statistics. There is a way you can help fix this mess.

Marine debris impacts sailing more than any other sport. It destroys our playground, interrupts our racecourse, and kills marine life.

How can we stop 8 million tons of plastic from getting to the ocean?

It won’t be easy, but nothing in life worth doing is. One thing we know for certain – we need to stop plastic pollution at the source. Of the top 10 items found globally on beaches during the International Coastal Cleanup, 8 are plastic and are all single-use items likely only needed for a few seconds. This includes plastic beverage bottles, straws, bottle caps, grocery bags and food wrappers. If plastic is made to last forever, why do we use it to make items that are only needed for a few minutes. Along with switching to reusable items at your home and on your boat, we can join forces to work with our sailing clubs, local governments and even our favorite watering holes to get them to follow suit. The ocean needs leaders like you to stand up against plastic pollution.

Take action now – so we can get back to sailing!

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