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CLASSIC BOAT JUNE 2019
THE CRUISE OF THE MAGIC
Above l-r: Delivery crewman Ben Zartman uses the sextant instead of GPS; a well-oiled taffrail log; a wahoo in the Gulf stream made for excellent sashimi
Opposite clockwise
from top: Charlotte
enjoys the bosun’s
chair while
Anneliese looks for
coral heads en route
to Highbourne Cay;
Charlotte explores
the mangrove
lagoon at Shroud
Cay in the Exuma
Land and Sea Park
on Magic’s Slipper,
a plywood
Shellback dinghy;
the famed
swimming pigs in
the central Exumas;
sunsets on the
shallow Bahamas
banks were
consistently
spectacular; still
warm but wet
reaching after
a cold front, Kara
keeps an eye on
the auto pilot
sand banks to the creek’s mouth. We shipped the lug
rig and rowed quietly, gliding with the tide as the girls
whispered “It’s a turtle. There’s another one!”
The GoPro was eagerly deployed underwater as we
rowed alongside turtle after turtle, some barely the size
of a serving platter. Mini eagle rays ghosted by and the
shallows along the edge of mangrove roots gave a lesson
in island building and an illustration of the food chain.
The last turn revealed a steep limestone edge and then
a wide, tourist office view of the deep blue sea. Protected
by a bright, white sand bar, we had our lunch, claimed this
empty coast as our own, then hoisted sail and chased
nimble little sea turtles all the way back. We’d done it.
LIVING WITH MAGIC
For the last three summers, we have shuttled our family
of five to beaches and dockside icecream shacks solely by
wind or muscle. All can sail the dinghy solo and all can
take an oar. There’s a reef in the lug sail on Magic’s Slipper,
and the girls giggle at the wake, even when momma and
papa get wide-eyed in a puff. These nautical abilities, and
the planning and piloting skills our full-keeled schooner
have taught us, allowed us the experience in Shroud Cay.
It was an indescribable feeling of accomplishment for all
of us. And life aboard Magic has been a series of those
same feelings.
She is everything you would want an old schooner
to be: salty and curvy with heavily raked, spruce masts,
typical of the pilot schooner type. Influenced by George
Steers, designer of America, and John Alden among other
great American naval architects, West Coast amateur
designer Craig Johnsen designed Magic to sail the Pacific
with his wife Vicky. He was mentored by Californian Lyle
Hess, most notable for designing two gaff cutters for
globetrotting sailing authors Lin and Larry Pardey.
Magic’s marriage of performance and ergonomics allow
her simple rig and manual systems to work harmoniously
for months on end at the hands of willing near-purists. In
Seraffyn and Taleisin, Hess gave the Pardeys a means of
exploring the world without an engine and with frugal
attitudes. Their books are bibles for the simple life at sea
and Magic is the legatee of those two plank-on-frame boats.
Built in 1993 of cold-moulded Western red cedar veneers
in West System epoxy, she’s not heavy at 10.4 tonnes
and is just shy of 40ft (12.2m) on deck. Her bilges carry
Magic, with her block and tackle, loose-footed gaff
foresail, fresh- and raw-water galley foot pumps, manual
windlass and sun showers, ingrained in us a thoughtful
process. Routine and planning saw us through days of
effortless sailing. The family was always busy, tanned
and fit – and most importantly, happy.
WHERE THERE’S A WILL
All the hot spots were on our Bahamas itinerary,
including seeing the iguanas at Allen’s Cay, the sunken
drug-running plane at Norman’s Cay and the swimming
pigs at Big Major’s Spot. But our family has refined its
exploration skills on the sweetest salt marshes of New
England. We love creeks. Since they could walk, our three
daughters have peered curiously at minnows, clams and
whole ecosystems scooped up in clear, plastic cups. I sadly
let go of Shroud Cay’s creek, worried I could force a bad
situation trying to make this elusive expedition happen.
I sailed Magic with two friends to Nassau without
a hitch, in two stages, during the fall of 2017. Family
adventure number one, over Christmas, saw us revelling
in moderate trade winds and a colourful underwater
world that had even the five-year-old fighting for a dive
mask. My wife Kara and I were getting the hang of the
essential sight navigation skills needed to avoid razor
sharp, and concrete-hard coral heads. But wind and
tides kept us away from Shroud Cay’s famous creek.
Stepping onto the dry, Alaskan yellow cedar deck one
warm, sunny morning last spring on the Bahama banks,
I stared for a bit at a diminutive starfish on the bottom.
Our three daughters were still rolling sleepily behind
their lee cloths when I looked at the yellow and brown
limestone and coral edge of Shroud Cay. Half tide.
The only way our family could make the notable
one-mile passage across the Cay to the white sand beach
on the ocean side was to time the tide perfectly. Row the
outgoing tide lazily through the twisting waters to the
ocean and sail the trades back with the incoming tide,
reversing our effortless passage with a nice snack break
in between. The tide was falling and it was 8.30am.
“Pick a bathing suit,” I yelled down the companionway.
“We gotta go!” Despite some protests and a few
authoritative “trust me” responses, we loaded up our
clinker-built Shellback dinghy, Magic’s Slipper and sailed
the two miles upwind across lemon- and lime-coloured