Made in America
THE HARD-CHARGING CANTIUS 46 FROM CRUISERS YACHTS SHOWCASES A CONTEMPORARY INTERIOR, A SPORTY TURN OF SPEED AND A CERTAIN ALL-AMERICAN, SMALL-TOWN MYSTIQUE. BY CAPT. BILL PIKE
Like a hard-charging running back, the Cantius 46 from Cruisers Yachts has a distinct, all-American feel.
SShortly after I’d stepped aboard Cruisers Yachts’ Cantius 46, I noticed a small, dollar-sized American flag affixed to the transom, just below the hatch that conceals a Vitrifrigo fridge. The refrigerator, along with a Kenyon electric grill, constitutes an alfresco barbecuing station, situated along the leading edge of the PWC-ready hydraulic swim platform. The flag stood out—in fact, I couldn’t remember seeing anything quite like it before, at least on a new boat from a stateside manufacturer. In a way, it seemed rather telling. Cruisers Yachts, after all, is owned and operated by a mediumsized, privately-held firm—KCS International—located in Oconto, Wisconsin, on the western edge of Lake Michigan. KCS is among the largest employers in the mostly rural state, with its line of vessels from 33 to 60 feet second only to cheese as the area’s biggest export.“What’s with the flag?” I asked Cruisers Marketing Director Matt VanGrunsven, who’d stepped aboard right behind me.
“All Cruisers are 100 percent made in America,” he replied. “Our manufacturing facility in Oconto is the only one we have in the world. And we proudly put the flag on the transom of every yacht we build.”
Heart of the Matter
“Let’s take a look at the engine room first,” I suggested. Over the years, I’ve decided there’s no better way to gauge a boatbuilder’s commitment to quality control than to give the machinery spaces an up-close-and-personal inspection.
As soon as I’d dropped through a hatch in the 46’s cockpit and eased down a stainless-steel ladder, I was faced with a conundrum—smack dab in the midst of the ER were two large, green, undeniably Swedish diesels close-coupled to IPS units. Which, of course, did not precisely jibe with the company’s
made-in-America mantra.
“Looks like a 435-hp Volvo Penta D6,” I observed, opting to not push the point further. Let’s face it: These days, if an American builder wants to offer the popular joystick-enabled pod propulsion in a mid-range express cruiser, the big dog is Sweden’s Volvo Penta.
I scanned the rest of the ER. The potential for elbow-roomy access was obvious, not only to dipsticks and fuel and oil filters but to the boat’s Duracell maintenance-free batteries on a shelf to starboard, her Bennett trim tab pump and its components (also to starboard, aft), her large-capacity Fireboy GA auto/ manual fire-extinguishing system overhead and, to port, her big 13.5-kW Cummins Onan genset.
I made a few measurements. Between the mains, the span was well over 3 feet—easily the widest engine-room walkway I’ve seen on a mid-size express boat in years. Moreover, clearances forward and aft of the engines were equally ample and the passages outboard were at least 2 feet wide. And while the stoop headroom was just 5 feet, 6 inches, I had no trouble getting around.
Ultimately, though, it was the many, seemingly small details that announced the American-made charm I was looking for. The labeled, spiral-wrapped electrical harnesses on the forward firewall had obviously been custom-made—there were no sags and no extra wires balled up and hidden away. And all electrics were daisy-chained with top-notch AMP connectors.
Then there were the robust basics. Beefy bronze sea strainers for the main engines, the Cruisair air-conditioning system and the genset all came from either Buck Algonquin or Groco— both reliable stateside companies. Massive ball valves for the genset’s Georgia-manufactured gas/water separating Centek muffler came from Buck Algonquin as well. And, instead of painted ply, the inwale-mounted shelves for the batteries and the genset were composed of strong, aluminum-cored, molded fiberglass.
Yup, ArchitecturalDigest!
The layout of the 46’s salon seemed conventional, with an L-shaped galley at the rear on the port side, a starboard helm station forward (with two 12-inch Garmin MFDs, a bolsterequipped, extra-wide seat and both binnacle and joystick-type engine controls) and two long, oppossing lounges. The lounge to port was two steps higher than the starboard lounge, and so offered loftier sightlines but also restricted headroom. I bumped my head the first time I sat down.
The belowdecks spaces seemed pretty conventional too. There was a large master aft, a VIP forward and two en suite heads in between, each with its own ample shower stall. The fullbeam width of the master was welcome, and somewhat unusual for the 40-plus size range, although I wondered whether the uneven elevations of the overhead (6 feet, 3 inches at the entrance; 5 feet, 6 inches at the end of the berth; and 4 feet, 10 inches directly above the berth) might prove occasionally inconvenient for a future owner.
In the end, though, it was the aesthetics of the 46’s interior that struck me. The styling of the entire vessel is aggressively modern. The best example of this is the crisply rectangular, startlingly white, baseball-stitched upholstery in the salon.
Created in-house by Cruisers, the stuff was as smart and timely as anything you’ll see between the covers of Architectural Digest these days. And belowdecks, the subtly controlled shapes of the berths and other furniture created a residential effect that was equally with-it, while simultaneously avoiding the sharp corners that can cause trouble in a seaway.
Rough Seas
We sea trialed our test boat out of the Galati Yachts facility on the north end of Old Tampa Bay with a wicked north wind hammering the lowly start of an incoming tide. Because these conditions made the shoreside waters super skinny, I took a pass on dockside maneuvering. A grounding was well above my pay grade, I figured, and well beyond the extent of my insurance coverage.
Galati skipper Nestor Beyley, however, had no problem extricating the boat from her slip, while dealing with broadside zephyrs, a ripping current and shallow water. And he was able to get us safely down the long channel that leads from the Galati docks to open water without incident, despite a few heart-stopping moments when our depth sounder registered zip.
Conditions south of Gandy Bridge were challenging. At first I wondered whether we’d actually be able to fully sea trial the 46 without snapping off an antenna. Speed runs southbound, with the steep, short 4- to 6-footers behind us, were exhilarating. But charging back north, with very little flare in the bow to subdue spray, certainly gave our big, Roca pantograph windshield wipers a workout.
The average top end I recorded was a sporty 30.9 knots. Tracking seemed good, both up sea and down. Turns were broad and running attitudes maxed out at 6 degrees—fairly high for a planing boat—possibly because we had no trim-tab indicators at the helm, an issue VanGrunsven said Cruisers would address in the future. Without them, it was tough to tell whether our tabs were giving us full travel or not.
Once we’d finished the run back to the barn, Beyley had no trouble returning our test boat to her slip, despite ongoing pressure from the elements. While helping him out with the stern lines on the swim platform, I had occasion to shoot one last glance at the small American flag on the transom, now completely frosted over with salt.
Yup, the Cantius 46 from Cruisers indeed emanates a madein-America, small-town mystique, and her interior nicely mixes convention and modernity. But hey, she’s a hard charger, too. No doubt about it.