From the editor

There’s something of a classic air to this issue, what with Adam Cort’s ode to the one-design-slash-daysailer evolution over the last century, Charlie Doane’s look at a new event inspired by the Golden Globe race, a tribute to New England sailing hero Howard Blackburn and a coincidental mention by Don Casey of the great British sailing couple Eric and Susan Hiscock, whose exploits in the 1950s and 60s got thousands of sailors thinking about sailing around the world.

It’s no bad thing to stand back once in a while and look at where we are and how we got here, in sailing as in life. Every day I read forum posts by would-be cruisers obsessing over AC systems and refrigeration, agonizing over mattress choices and lamenting the lack of space to hang the kilowatt of solar panels it takes to power their household needs. I quite like things like refrigeration and watermakers myself, but still I marvel at how few of these posts reference the truly important things in a sailing boat—a stout, watertight hull, a sturdy rig, a good suit of sails, reliable steering, a comfortable and safe cockpit, trustworthy ground tackle. Everything else is window dressing. The more you dress the window, the less you look out of it.

The expectation that a cruising boat should have all the creature comforts of a landbased home is a relatively new one, and it’s why the average size of new boats is steadily creeping upwards. You need length and beam in order to cram in the flatscreen TVs, generators, water makers, dual fridge/ freezers, washing machines, dishwashers, a couple of AC units, bow thruster et al— not to forget the espresso machine.

I do enjoy looking at all these modern marvels at boat shows, and really, the only problem I have with all this excessiveness—it’s your boat, do with it what you will—is what happens when these systems break down, as they inevitably do, the unforgiving nature of the marine environment being what it is.

It doesn’t take long for luxuries to become essential. Will you let a broken AC unit ruin your cruise, or trap you in port? Whereas you don’t miss what you’ve never had, and probably would have been happy enough with a windscoop and a couple of fans. No, we’re a pampered bunch these days.

The mention of Wanderer III brought me back to a charter in the Beagle Channel in 2007, when we spent a night on a remote island dock with the famous old boat and her current custodians, Thies Matzen and Kicki Ericksson, rafted alongside. They were headed to Antarctica, which I thought was a rather brave call for a wooden 30-footer. Thies was proudly displaying a handheld GPS he’d just been given to supplement his sextant, and invited aboard, I saw the snug saloon absolutely crammed full of offcuts of wood he and Kicki had been collecting for their stove. I envisioned them chopping up the interior cabinetry should they run short of fuel, but Thies told me there was never a shortage of driftwood.

I doubt these two have ever been stuck in port because of non-functioning equipment. That’s the difference between knowing what you need, as opposed to what you want. s