Don’t fall for deceptive beauty
Ihave, over the years, had the pleasure of being involved in the design of a number of boats, buildings and equipment. All have benefited from an incisive design brief born of many hours of thought. The spirit of my competitive boats, inspired by brutal simplicity, can be summed up by their cockpits whose sole function was to serve the winches. My back needed a given height for maximum power and to negate injury. In the case of Aqua Quorum, my Vendée Globe boat, we made the cockpit large enough for corporate hospitality but reduced its volume during the race in case a breaking wave swamped it. We extended the coach roof over the forward end of the cockpit to offer a safe cuddy out of the elements.
A cruising cockpit, I have since learned, has a far more complex brief to satisfy. A brief that seems to have eluded many a designer, particularly when it comes to more classic lines; a blind spot highlighted by an elderly couple loading their stores during my morning coffee. Being of independent spirit they preferred to do battle on their own, reducing me to a paternal and impotent eye over the rim of my mug. Frustratingly they were being put at risk by that graceful overhang to the transom. He was over-balanced on lifting something heavy as the dinghy disappeared under the overhang. Meanwhile his wife, struggling to assist, couldn’t find a solid stance on the pinched side deck, let alone somewhere to put the stores. It was awful to watch as we reflected that this daily task was probably putting them at greater risk than at any other time at sea. I find I am developing a jaundiced eye when it comes to classic lines.
With health and safety in mind, particularly as a cruiser, I look at the aft end of the boat as the most dangerous. It is a sailing hub that manages frighteningly high loads, barbecue area, dinghy hoist, embarkation
platform, MOB recovery area, solar panel support, sun shade, steering position, entertainment area, paddle board store and much more. A plethora of needs which have to coexist, ideally in visual harmony. A tough brief which, I have found over many a sundowner in other cockpits, is frequently missed as I clamber round a vast wheel only to sit knee-to-knee with every task, even as simple as passing the peanuts, preceded by a choreograph of sympathetic movement. Goodness knows what it would be like in an emergency where fluid ergonomics are required to serve a rapid reaction. We have a wide transom on Pearl which gives the cockpit breathing space for competing needs as the boat morphs through its various guises from sailing to entertaining in a tranquil anchorage. There are four areas starting with a Vendée-style shelter, followed by a comfy seating area for four which has a strong table with robust hand holds. The steering area is a no man’s land between the relaxed seating area and the busy aft platform. It has two wheels offering an unobstructed walkway, windward steering position and a clear view for docking. All winches are accessible and we can sit a further six people, making a total of 12 for entertaining.
Our broad transom offers an arch wide enough to encompass the dinghy and outboard. It is easily hoisted and is high enough to maintain access to the platform. Essential during man overboard and convenient for my morning swim. Indeed, I am able to launch and retrieve my paddle board under the dinghy. These may appear to be seemingly small benefits but when multiplied by daily routines they are worth their weight in gold.
This complex design brief can be met. So, when you fall in love with a boat’s lines make sure you temper any lust with a tape measure and functional pragmatism. You don’t want to fall out of love with a beauty that has no more to offer than being pleasing to the eye.
A cruising cockpit has a far more complex brief to satisfy