Story and photos by David H. Lyman
If you are reading this magazine, you are most likely already in the Caribbean, on a boat, or dreaming about a boat that can take you to those islands. These may be two different boats.
There’s a lot to consider, so let’s get started.
Has anyone come close to designing the ideal Caribbean cruising yacht, let alone building one? I’ve sailed a dozen different boats to and through the islands, and while each had its charms, each also came with things I could just as soon do without. So, no, there may not be one boat that fits everyone’s ideal.
What may appear to appeal to me may fall far short for another sailor. This boat thing is an ever-elusive search for the ideal. The problem is that as we outgrow one boat, we then have to search for the next boat that fits our new perspective on this life afloat.
British boat designer Hubert Scott-Paine once said, “A man should own a boat that is equal in feet to his age.” It became a favorite quote of Ted Turner’s, to the point that it is often attributed to him. All I can say is, it worked for me. My first boat was an Alden 34-foot wooden sloop that I bought when I was 29, for $6,000. My fourth and last boat, Searcher, was a 57-foot Bowman ketch I bought when I was 56 for $200,000. She was already 20 years old, but over the 14 years I sailed her, I still consider that Bowman to be the one that fit all my needs. Great offshore boat, but a bit cramped for family living aboard, full time. Searcher was also a lot of boat, expensive to insure, maintain, and continually upgrade. Owning her became a full-time job. Today, I would just as soon go back to a 34-footer with just the basics, but now also with solar, an automatic pilot, AIS, GPS and Navionics on my iPhone.
The Compromise
My son, Havana, a young yacht designer fresh out of college, and I were driving back to Maine after four days at the Newport boat show. We have some good conversations. If you ask him, he’ll tell you he knows more than I do.
With a head stuffed full of college theory on yacht design, he lives in another world. I have 45 years of yacht ownership and 55 years of sailing experience that I bring to the table, or the car seat. But at least the two of us have something we can share, talk and argue about, and given the age gap (60 years) it’s amazing we even share a common language.
He asked if I’d seen anything I liked.
“Bits and pieces,” I replied. “But nothing that came altogether for a reasonable price.” Riding in the car for five hours, we began discussing, then arguing, about what makes for an ideal cruising boat. Especially, one for the Caribbean
“What did you like?”
“The Hylas 57 and the Bluewater 56. Both are capable of world cruising in comfort, but both are well over a million. They are so crammed with complicated systems, only a technically savvy skipper could handle them. A new owner would need to hire one who was.”
“What didn’t you like?”
“Many of the boats were designed and built as weekend toys, not serious offshore cruisers, and certainly not fitted out for the Caribbean. They were meant to be tied up in a slip during the week. The anchoring systems on many appeared an afterthought, inadequate for Caribbean cruising. A few had no anchor at the bow at all.”
Caribbean cruising means you’ll be anchoring every night. This means two bow rollers on a well-built bowsprit to accommodate a heavy working anchor on chain on one roller; and on the second roller, a lighter Danforth on 30 feet of chain and 200 feet of nylon rode. You can slip this anchor into the dinghy and run it out when the wind picks up and a second anchor is called for. The windlass should be horizontal, with a chain gypsy and a capstan for the rode—in line with the rollers. And, a strong point or two to secure the chain, snubber, and rode, or a 1-inch mooring pendent. During the 2023boat show, the Island Packet was the only affordable boat adequately set up for Caribbean cruising that I saw.
“It all comes down to the owner’s intent,” Havana said. “What does the owner plan to do with the boat, and where will they sail it?”
Scott Woodruff, a yacht broker at one of the seminars, explains it this way: “Use the 80/20 rule. Find a boat that fits 80 percent of your intended lifestyle,” he told the audience. “If it’s racing on weekends, that’s one kind of boat; coastal cruising is another boat; offshore passagemaking from Maine to the Caribbean is another, and a fulltime liveaboard boat in the islands means still another kind of boat. Planning on a winter in the Bahamas, that’s a shallow draft boat. The remaining 20 percent may include things that you do not like but can tolerate for a short period.”
“How many people does this Caribbean boat need to accommodate?” my son asked. “A couple, with the occasional guest couple? That means two private cabins, at either end of the boat. For a family of four on a monthlong cruise, perhaps three cabins, or the kids can sleep on deck, or camp out in the main cabin. Two heads?” My son was beginning to lay out such a boat.
“If this boat is going to remain in the Caribbean, it need not be well suited for an extended offshore voyage,” I added.
“But, if it is to sail back to the US or Europe each spring,” he explained, “an offshore passage would require a deep, or full keel, and a water length greater than 40 feet, 50 feet would be better.”
“The Pardeys sailed around the world, twice,” I added. “On 24- and then 29-foot wooden boats they built, each without an engine.”
“They were the exception,” Havana replied. “Boats 30 to 40 feet are slow, may not have sufficient tankage to sustain a two-week passage at sea. Shorter boats are for coastal cruising, weekend trips.”
My third boat, Afaran, was a 41-foot Lord Nelson cutter, and I was 45. I made 10 solo passages between Maine and the Caribbean in the 80s. She carried 80 gallons of fresh water, with a 60-gallon fuel tank. There was another 30 gallons of fuel on deck. One September I motored all the way from Newport to Bermuda, 640 miles, in three days and 22 hours, arriving with less than three gallons in the tank. Every year, boats heading to the islands run out of fuel.
“How much water did Searcher carry?” Havana asked. He and his sister Ren grew up on that boat, spending two winters with us in the Caribbean.
“She carried 150 gallons of fuel and 400 gallons of water in two tanks, with four 6-gallon jerry cans of fuel on deck. We were then living aboard full time and ran out of water only once, after a month at anchor in Bequia. Daffodils came out with her floating fuel barge to resupply us. It was you kids showering five times a day after swimming that ran us out of water.”
“As a designer,” mused my son, “it all comes down to speed, comfort, aesthetics, or price. Pick any two.”
“Comfort and aesthetics are my choices. I want a boat that’s comfortable and classic, pleasant to look at. Call it PPO, Personal Pride of Ownership.”
“You can have a beautiful, classic looking yacht, but it’ll cost you speed and money. You can have a go-fast boat, but it’ll be uncomfortable.
“I prefer a boat that is comfortable offshore, even if it’s a bit slower.”
“That’s why many boats are classified as racer-cruisers.”
“Or cruiser-racer.”
“Okay, let’s design a boat just for the Caribbean,” I told him. “What does it need?”
“Island hopping or an extended liveaboard, with an occasional daylong hop to the next island? Is swimming, snorkeling, or diving a big part of the picture?
“Yes,” I replied.
“If access to the water is a major consideration, that means a sugar scoop, or a drop-down transom to create a swim platform. Which means twin helms with a clear passageway from the companionway to the transom, and a fold-down table in the middle of the cockpit,” Havana said.
“But this leads to a flat bottom boat,” I injected. “With a shallow bilge, leading to a boat that pounds in a seaway, it has less room for tankage, limiting its time between fuel docks.
“In the Caribbean, fuel docks are always available on the next island. Places like Bequia have floating fuel and water barges that come along side.”
As we discussed the parameters of this Caribbean boat, it was becoming less and less likely it would be sailed offshore on a two-week delivery from the US. There’d be not enough tankage, and the boat would be uncomfortable offshore. If the boat is to remain in the islands for the summer, the insurance company will want to know where it will be hauled and secured. It will want to see a written storm plan. Then you need to retrain a service company to care for your boat.
“Let’s consider a catamaran,” Havana said.
“They certainly have more living space, all on one floor, good access to the water, great visibility all ‘round,” I said. “It’s like living in a backyard patio, with the grill, the swimming pool, and everyone at eye level. And they don’t heel, much.”
“When we were learning yacht design in college, we had to draw up stability graphs indicating the heel and capsizing characteristics of various boats. Most boats designed for offshore cruising are tender, will heel a great deal, but will right themselves rather quickly when the heeling force is reduced. Racing boats heel to a point, then slow down, telling the crew to reduce sail or head up. Catamarans are stable until one pontoon leaves the water, then stability begins to diminish. Catamarans are the most stable when upside-down.
“Cats are uncomfortable to sail in anything other than winds aft of the beam,” I countered. “When sailing north between islands in the Caribbean, just wait until the winds come out of the southeast. It’ll be a fast 11-knot romp. Sailing, even on a beam reach, leads to an uncomfortable and inefficient ride on a cat.”
“But, it only takes half a day to make those crossings,” Havana parried. “When the boat and crew reach the lee of the next big island, they are sailing along in a nice breeze in tranquil waters.
There are many things on which my son and I could agree, but he comes from another world, one of sailboats that go fast, and to hell with comfort.
“Faster and wetter the better!” He declared, with a smile on his face.
I’m at that age where I prefer sitting on the aft deck of an anchored boat, off the beach in Bequia, a tall glass with ice, rum, and tonic in hand as late afternoon recedes into a brief dusk, then slips into night.
At the end of the day there are three things I feel a Caribbean boat must have:
- A freshwater hose adjacent to the swim ladder, with an automatic shut-off shower head so no one inadvertently leaves the shower head on and empties the water tank
- Sufficient awnings to shade the cockpit, with a drop-down curtain aft to shade the late afternoon sun from flooding into the cockpit.
- A good anchoring system.
There is another option to owning a boat. Bareboat chartering, or sailing on OPB — Other Peoples’ Boats. The more boats you sail on, the more you know what to look for in a purchase.
To hell with which boat, here they are all just fine.
Sailor and frequent Caribbean Compass contributor David H. Lyman checks out as many islands and boats as is humanly possible and writes about them to his heart’s content.
– D.L.
