SHIP SHAPE
Tips on how to design a practical and functional cabin space while maintaining a homely feel
Classic craft have been my home on the sea for more years than I’d care to admit. Back in 1972 my husband Tom and I sold our house to buy our first cruising boat, an original 32ft (9.8m) Colin Archer pilot cutter built in 1903, and I was determined it would be a place where I’d feel comfortable down below when the wind was shouting and the waves were mountains high. On that boat I could only stand up under the skylight, but she had a solid fuel stove, oil lamps and, in harbour, a sheepskin rug on the cabin sole.
Subsequently, I travelled many thousands of miles with no refrigeration and no shower on the Bristol Channel pilot cutter, Hirta. Her 1911 accommodation was long gone, but following up on what I’d learned already, I designed a new arrangement that served us well. From there I progressed to designing the accommodation for Westernman, a 40ft (12.2m) gaff cutter we commissioned for ourselves and, just a couple of years ago, I was asked to help with the interior of Charles Watson’s Saecwen which featured recently in CB.
Not everyone has the opportunity to start from scratch and many may not want to. I remember when we were planning Westernman, I went around permanently with a ruler; measuring all sorts of things, lying under tables and inviting myself on other people’s boats just so that I could find out the width of their side deck and check whether or not you could actually sleep in their bunks at sea. I’m also a great one for mocking up a layout with cardboard boxes, tables, chairs, or whatever comes to hand, so that I can see exactly if it’s going to function. I’ll never build again, but if you decide to, then consider what the designer Ron Holland had to say. “There must be large open spaces so those on board feel
unrestrained and unaware of the limited dimensions of the yacht, but there must equally be intimate areas, where privacy can be maintained even in the midst of a large party. The simplest way of achieving this is to ensure that at standing eye level the visual space uses the full width and length available, but when sitting down the occupants are more enclosed, protected and supported.”
This is a great starting point, along with looking at loads of images of boat interiors. When we were constructing Westernman I amassed a huge file with cuttings of features and fittings I particularly liked on other boats; panels for locker doors, handles, types of wood, and so forth. On Westernman we were lucky to source pitch pine which, like Maurice Griffiths, we love for its grain. It was reclaimed from an old factory. This we used to panel the saloon and we finished it with a silk varnish. The shipwright who constructed it was a real character. He lived in a van and stowed his ‘stash’ above the vanity mirror in his ancient Cadillac, but he was a genius given a piece of wood.
Back in the real world of non-custom boat buying, you are going to be presented with someone else’s idea. If you can, live with it for a season to see what works before tearing it out. You might just be surprised.
THE SALOON
This should be the heart of the ship where the crew come together to eat and yarn around the table, at anchor or at sea. I go on modern boats these days where designers have people sitting all scrunched in a sort of row on one side, sometimes even facing the galley. Who, I wonder, wants to look at the washing up while relaxing after a meal? It would just give me a guilt complex. For proper communication and, I suppose, a
spot of feng shui, nothing beats people facing other people across the table. And, above them, a hanging lamp casting a warm glow providing a focal point. Electric cabin lights have come a long way from the harsh beams of overhead bulbs and neon strips. Now you can read by bright LEDs, which dim on demand to create a relaxing atmosphere.
The table should have decent fiddles. On Westernman we ordered removable fiddles for the flaps. These were used at sea if need be, but they came off in harbour. Fiddles must be fashioned so that there’s a vertical edge on the inside. If they are ‘nicely curved’, which is quite common these days, then plates or cups that land against them will be scooped up to take off at sea and deposit their contents in your lap.
How are the table flaps? To enable you to eat easily the flaps must come out far enough, but not so far that when you raise them, you have to ask the occupants of the settee to move into the next cabin – before ushering them back to squeeze round the table.
At the end of a hard day’s sail, it’s good to lean back and stretch your legs out – make sure there’s space for this under the table. Many are impeded. When we bought our current boat, a classic cutter built in glassfibre, she had a dinette with upright seats, which would be more suited to a pew in church. We threw them in the skip immediately and used contoured cushions slightly angled to get the right back rake. Then we did away with the forward athwartships seat, dismantled the table and reinstalled it flush against the forward bulkhead, enabling us to move round it without having to breathe in and shimmy into position.
Nothing says ‘homely’ like a cabin heater. We’ve always had solid fuel stoves and I insisted on one for our modern yacht. You can’t beat them when it’s cold or wet and, should you run out of cooking gas, you can heat up soup and beans on them, or boil a kettle. However, you need to make sure you have space to store the fuel.
SLEEPING ARRANGEMENTS
Some saloons, notably on race boats, feature pilot berths. These have never been a favourite of mine as the space always looks a bit forlorn and I’d rather see a shelf with books. Invariably pilot berths are narrow and climbing into them at sea on a rough night often means standing on the nose of the person kipping on the saloon bunk. On Saecwen the owner insisted on one, so I suggested he fashioned it after a real pilot berth on the original working cutters by enclosing part of it. This has the double benefit of helping the person sleeping there to feel it’s more his or her own space. It’s also tidier all round. A major downside of the pilot berth is that the settee underneath is narrower and more upright than a normal saloon berth.
If the saloon settees are regular size, they are the prime place to sleep at sea as the motion is best there, but they do need good leecloths. On Westernman we even went
so far as to arrange a removable wooden leeboard. This cunningly made up the bottom half of the back of the settee. When required, the top half hinged up, and the bottom board was lifted out and slotted into the front of the bunk. The cushion on the bunk stretched out under the back of the settee so it made a really decent berth. In addition, the bedding could be stowed out of sight behind the woodwork when not needed.
Should the main sleeping cabin be up forward or down aft? Each option has its drawbacks – there is either the creak of the anchor chain or, especially on modern boats, the noise of the stern slapping on the water. I’ve experienced both, but so long as I can sit up in bed, my back supported by a bulkhead, with a good reading light and a shelf to put my cuppa on, I’m happy.
THE GALLEY
Planning on living on board and going cruising? Then this needs to work – and work well. If you have to cook and wash up in any sea at all, a U-shaped galley with the open side at the aft end, rather than at the inboard end, is best in order that you can brace yourself when heeled. However, if you’re stuck with the open side athwartships as always seems to happen to me, make sure you have a good bum strap and a solid bar in front of the cooker.
Two sinks are a winner. I prefer these to be of the same size and really deep, so that you can wash up in one and drain in the other. If these are on the small side, you might find the large lobster saucepan, or the roasting tray won’t fit in, and the closer you can site them to amidships, the better for when the boat’s heeled. I’m always thinking about how life will be in a Force 9. A deep sink means you’ll only need a small amount of water to wash up in, so there’ll be no slopping over. With ready hot water on tap these days, I do all the clothes washing, except towels, on board – washing in one and rinsing in the other.
If you have pressurised water taps, it’s best to ensure there’s a separate hand or foot pump for drinking water. Fitted with an inline charcoal filter, it takes out any impurities and makes the water taste good. With such a system, the electric pressure faucets don’t need a filter and, should the batteries fail, you won’t die of thirst. On one ocean-going vessel I crewed on, there was even a seawater tap. These days with water-makers there’s not so much call for them, but if I were planning an extended circumnavigation I would certainly consider it.
Sinks should be covered. This not only makes the galley look tidy when not in use, it increases space. If both sinks are the same size, you can cover just one at a time and move the cover from side to side. You can always make the back of one of the covers a chopping board if you’re tight on room.
It always amazes me how much gear a boat can swallow, but it pays to have good stowage. Tom and I have never been fans of using plastic plates, so we have
wooden ones for use at sea, which help keep the food warm. In harbour we favour china. Our Denby ware was given to us for our wedding in 1972 and it’s been with us at sea for all these years crossing many oceans. In half a century we’ve only broken one. Our secret? Well thought-out stowage. Three of our boats have had what I call the ‘slot’ method. A set of open boxes with a properly finished face is located just under the beam shelf above the lockers. These are made to fit the plates. The front has a slimmish slot down the middle so that you can literally ‘post’ the plates in over the top, then slide them down. They aren’t going anywhere.
We also like china mugs, with each crew member having an individual one. Tom’s features the USS Constitution. He picked it up in a yard sale in America back in the 1970s. It’s still with us and no chips to date! On some of our boats, we’ve hung mugs on hooks underneath a shelf, on others they have been stacked one above the other, while at present they are sitting snug on a dedicated shelf.
It’s the same with glasses. We keep a few large plastic ones for when nothing else will do, but wine just doesn’t taste right out of them and, if you ask Tom to drink malt whisky from plastic, he’ll stop your rum ration for a week. That problem was solved by stowing them on a wooden wine rack screwed down horizontally inside a locker.
I love to cook, so for me a stove with an oven is a must. There’s nothing like the smell of fresh bread at sea, but I despair of finding a decent boat cooker nowadays. I’ve been shipmates with some ghastly examples. My current cooker has four rings, a separate grill and an adequate oven. The easy-access grill allows you to brown omelettes or cook things like cheese on toast without fuss, whereas if you had to open the oven door and wrestle with the broiler in a gale you probably wouldn’t bother. A cooker such as mine is nigh-on impossible to buy these days as the company that made them stopped production 20-odd years ago. I’d had them on previous boats, but foolishly let them go. So I was really fortunate that a friend of mine found a left-over new one on eBay. I’m hanging on to it.
One way to make your boat individual and reflect your taste is by thoughtful use of textiles. Instead of standard blue settee covers, why not try some chintz, or Jacobean fabric by William Morris, such as we had on a couple of our boats. They look great against wood and, because they are patterned, they don’t show spills. If you’re worried about them getting salty in mid-Atlantic, make them up as loose covers and have vinyl underneath for use at sea. In 1880 Morris famously declared: ‘Have nothing in your houses that you do not know to be useful or believe to be beautiful.’ Perhaps sailors should make it their mantra to have nothing on their boats that they do not know to be functional, believe to be beautiful and is thoroughly seamanlike.