10
I
nstead of boarding our chartered
38-foot Robertson and Caine
catamaran as planned, on the day
we arrived in Tonga several years ago, my
traveling mates and I hunkered down in
a cottage ashore to wait for a late-season
cyclone and its torrential rain and wind
to pass. The upside to losing two full
days at sea was that when we fi nally did
set off toward Hunga, the westernmost
island in the Vava‘u group, the sailing was
spectacular. A sporty northerly kept the
speedo at 7 knots and counting, and the
Morrelli & Melvin-designed hulls of the
Sunsail 384 cut through the leftover storm
swell like knives through butter.
Once we rounded Hunga’s northern tip
and began to run down its west side, we
eyed the craggy coast and pored over the
chart, worried we might miss the narrow
opening to the nearly landlocked basin in
the center of the island, where we hoped
to fi nd a peaceful night’s anchorage. If we
missed it and had to head back north, it
was going to be a gnarly beat.
At last, we spotted it: A narrow gap in
the rocks. Check. A boulder midchannel
that should be left to port. Check. A stick
farther in that marked the northern edge
of the reef we really wanted to avoid.
Hmm, now that was a problem. Said
stick had gone missing, but by this point
we were committed. We were literally
between the rock and a hard place just to
starboard — startlingly close to starboard,
I’d say, given the cat’s beam. Behind us,
breaking waves piled up as they met
the shallow entrance, eliminating the
possibility of retreat. Like it or not, wewere pushed swiftly forward through
what we hoped was the channel. With a
whoosh we surfed ahead, and by the time
I thought it might be useful to hold my
breath in anticipation, the depth sounder
showed us back in delightfully deep water
and we found ourselves surrounded by a
fl at-calm bay.
At that moment, I realized just how
nimble and fast our little catamaran was,
and how much I’d enjoyed the last few
hours in conditions that, had we been
sailing a monohull, would have laid us on
our ear.
For the remainder of the trip, and
on several catamaran outings since, my
appreciation of sailing on two hulls rather
than one has grown considerably — and
I’m not the lone monohull sailor to get bit
by this particular bug. In the Caribbean
(by far the most popular vacation
destination of North Americans),
northward of 40 percent of the charter
fl eet is now comprised of catamarans, and
that number increases annually. Accordingto The Sailing Market 2016, an annual
survey conducted by Cruising World and
Sailing World, 16 percent of the sailboats
imported into North America last year
were catamarans, and one in fi ve U.S.-built
sailboats in 2015 had more than one hull.
Still, the world has its share of nautical
Luddites. Walking the docks at Strictly
Sail Pacifi c, the boat show that made
its debut in Richmond, California, this
spring, I listened in on two salty types
declaring they’d never even consider
stepping aboard a catamaran. “When I
go sailing, I want to go sailing,” one said
to the other, who responded with a “you
betcha” sort of nod. By “sailing,” I take it
they meant “heeled over, rail buried, and
spray pouring into the cockpit.”
I like that too. But sitting atop a
fl ybridge on a comfortable bench seat,
tweaking the traveler on a big square-
topped main, feeling the boat leap ahead in
the gusts as the spray peels off twin bows
and boisterous wakes stream astern —
well, that’s what I’d call the cat’s meow.june/july 2016cruisingworld.comWith a whoosh we surfed ahead, and by the time I thought it might be useful to hold my breath
in anticipation, the depth sounder showed us back in delightfully deep water and we found
ourselves surrounded by a flat-calm bay.BY MARK PILLSBURYEditor’s Log
MARK PILLSBURYIT’S
SAILING.
Period.
Quick and nimble, the Sunsail 384, built by Robertson and Caine, can also carry a
crowd and was a pleasure to sail.