CLOSE QUARTERS

BRANDT FAATZ Bound for unknown seas

If you’ve just retired from directing a wooden boat heritage centre, it’s likely your immediate future is going to feature some serious cruising

WORDS AND PHOTOGRAPH BRUNO CIANCI

BRUNO CIANCI

Born in Minnesota in 1961, Brandtt Faatz fi rst sailed in Colorado, learned to sail keelboats in the San Francisco Bay, and eventually became obsessed with boats and the Salish Sea, the network of waterways between Canada holidays. In the spring of 2020, I stripped and refi nished her mahogany house and coamings. Last summer was all about sailing Chloe; the fall was about moving to Port Townsend. Melanie and I sailed Chloe to Port Townsend in December, and the United States, after moving to Seattle on New Year’s Day and I’ve been day-sailing here a dozen times a month since 1997, a city he had been driven to for romantic reasons involving then. I have her set up for light cruising now and plan to join a woman and a sailing boat. A former executive director of the the Palooza Cruisa after the Pocket Yacht Palooza event in Center for Wooden Boats (CWB), located in Lake Union, Seattle, Port Townsend this July. Works, obviously, are always Faatz is now almost fully devoted to sailing. “I retired from the needed. Just a few weeks ago, I started stripping the toe rails. CWB in March 2020,” he says, “just as the pandemic was Once those are refi nished, the last step will be to paint the ramping up, because I wanted to accomplish a lifelong dream: to canvas deck.” explore the world without rush or objective in one of my boats, As soon as spring 2021 started, Brandt Faatz’s attention an Ericson 38 christened Priya. The pandemic forced me to shifted to preparing Priya for her long-awaited journey to freeze the countdown, so I’ve remained somehow involved with Mexico. She spent nearly four weeks on the hard in Port the center, serving as a volunteer on its Townsend’s Boat Haven, where 35 fi nance, development and capital years of accumulated bottom paint campaign committees. We are raising was stripped, all the through-hulls money to restore the fl oating buildings replaced, hull, rudder and steering and docks. My successor, Josh inspected, and new barrier coat and Anderson, has done an amazing job bottom paint applied. “She keeping the proverbial ship afl oat and splashed in early April” – her proud steering through the storm that was owner says – “and I sailed her to a 2020”. rendezvous of the Coho Ho rally

CWB’s journey through the fl eet in Blakely Harbor, Bainbridge pandemic is a great story. After closing Island. Normally this would be a for a few months during the fi rst raft up, but Covid protocols had us lockdown, CWB opened up its boat anchoring separately and ship charter operation, youth sailing and visiting by dinghy. Other projects youth woodworking programmes. All this year included beefi ng up Priya’s of these take place outdoors with Covid ground tackle, replacing her protocols in place. That allowed CWB water-maker and updating some of to provide community experiences in a her running rigging. I had already safe setting. Combined with masterful added solar and hydropower navigation of Covid relief funding sources, a new water-maker, opportunities at the national, state, city, satellite communications and lots of county and private levels, plus the “Last summer was other gear last year. The ship is now generosity of CWB’s donor community, all about sailing my ready.” the organisation was “able to weather the fi nancial storm extremely well,” Folkboat Chloe” As for the owner, he’s been fully vaccinated since May, so – he says Brad. assures – will most of his sailing

For now, on his itinerary there is companions be. The cruise on Priya only the west coast of the American is back on this year, with a continent, from the state of Washington to Baja California, departure to Half Moon Bay, California scheduled for although eventually this experienced sailor, who loves to sail mid-August. The starting crew of four should include another solo, could decide to go further. “I was planning to sail to former co-worker of Faatz, Kristin Pederson, an Mexico in August, 2020, but my plan was based on the idea of accomplished offshore sailor, Race to Alaska veteran and crew and guests joining me for various portions of the cruise. licensed captain, “who has a knack for spotting whales The pandemic made crew transfers untenable, so I decided to whenever she goes to sea”. Chloe has been registered for the postpone the whole thing. Instead, I spent the summer staying Port Townsend Wooden Boat Festival, so the owner is connected with my friends at the CWB and sailing my other planning to fl y home for that in September. Then it’s back to boat, a Nordic Folkboat named Chloe, on Lake Union with my California for an October cruise down the coast to San friend and former co-worker, CWB Development Director Diego, with stops in Monterey Bay and the Channel Islands. Melanie Masson”. A new crew will join him there for the trip down the Baja

Chloe was built in Norway in 1960, and has undergone two Peninsula and up into the Sea of Cortez. “Needless to say” – restorations while in the hands of her previous owners. During he adds – “I did read John Steinbeck’s The Log from the Sea one of these, the hull was completely re-planked with a durable of Cortez this winter for inspiration”. Alaskan yellow cedar. “Chloe was in good structural condition Everything seems to be ready, apart from the ideal when I bought her,” said Faatz, “but she needed a thorough environment. For the time being, Brandtt Faatz enjoys cosmetic restoration. In December 2019, I hauled her to paint Chloe’s easy motion and lively manner in the much-loved and the bottom and topsides. Then, with help from my friends at alluring setting of the Salish Sea, as the wind and waves kick CWB, I pulled the mast, stripped it and refi nished it over the up, the rail goes under and the spray starts to fl y…

Main picture: The 10-M yacht Mosk II and, above, First Rule 8-M yacht Ierne

THE WAR-WORN 1920 OLYMPICS

The sailing regatta of the 1920 Olympic Games was so undersubscribed that only one yacht that entered failed to win a medal

WORDS NIGEL SHARP

The 1920 Olympic Games took place against a background of post-war austerity and devastation. They were supposed to be hosted by Paris but the French forsook the opportunity in favour of Antwerp as some sort of compensation for the suffering that the Belgians had experienced during the Great War. The war’s defeated countries – Germany, Austria, Hungary and Turkey – were not invited, and just 14 nations took part.

Accustomed as we are to the highly organised and competitive nature of the Olympic Games in recent years, many aspects of the 1920 Games had an element of the absurd. The start time of the 10,000-metre running fi nal, for instance, was brought forward with very little notice from 1730 to 1415 to allow the King of Belgium to appear at an art show opening. Frenchman Joseph Guillemot, who had already won the 5,000 metres three days earlier, only learned of the change of start time as he was fi nishing his lunch and had no time to digest it. As a result, he vomited as he crossed the fi nishing line in second place. In cycling’s road race, the 175km course was intersected by six railway crossings. Offi cials stationed at each of them timed all of the hold-ups but it wasn’t at all clear at the fi nish who the winners were until appropriate adjustments had been made to fi nishing times. And in the middleweight weightlifting competition, two competitors lifted the same weight in the two-handed jerk, and they then drew lots to determine who would be awarded the silver medal. The sailing events were held between 7 and 10

July at Ostend where an almost unbelievable total of 16 different classes were scheduled to compete. At the previous games in 1912, there had been just four: 6-Ms, 8-Ms, 10-Ms and 12-Ms with a total of 21 boats racing. But in the meantime, the 1919 International Yacht Racing Union conference had taken place and the Second International Rule had been introduced to replace the First Rule.

Although it would make sense that the Olympic classes should be made up of the most modern designs, there was very little time or money to build new boats and so it was decided to have two classes – First Rule and Second Rule – for each of the four classes that had raced eight years earlier. Furthermore, there would also be First Rule 7-Ms and 9-Ms, International 12ft Dinghies, International 18ft Dinghies, 30 Square Metres, 40 Square Metres, 6.5-Ms and 8.5-Ms.

The latter two had no connection with the International Rule but conformed to a French measurement formula. They, and the Swedish Square

Above: Mosk II 1920 Gold medal

Metre boats, had been given international status – “somewhat hastily” according to The Yachtsman magazine – at the 1919 IYRU conference. All classes would take part in three races starting from the Inner Stroombank Buoy on a course either 6 or 12 nautical miles long and shaped roughly like an equilateral triangle. Only two boats were allowed from any one nation in each class.

It was the fi rst international regatta to be held since 1914 and yet reporting of the games – both in the national press and sailing magazines – was particularly sketchy. The Yachtsman, for instance, barely gave the Olympic sailing regatta half a page in its 15 July issue whereas four and a half pages were devoted to Clyde Fortnight and more than two to the America’s Cup which was about to begin; and each of the next two issues dedicated around four pages to Shamrock IV’s subsequent defeat by Resolute.

Not surprisingly, the huge number of classes resulted in considerable dilution in all of them. In fact eight of the classes had just one entry (including the 10-M and both 12-M classes); there were no 8.5-Ms or 9-Ms at all; and there was only one class which had as many as four boats. Despite that, Yachting World reported that “the number of yachts, both racing and cruising, now in Ostend harbour, and the numerous yachtsmen of many countries who have come to witness the contests as well as take part in them, are eloquent testimony of the interest which exists in international yacht racing, and the universal desire which there is for its re-establishment.”

BRITAIN ONLY HAD TWO ENTRIES

Britain only had two entries: in the 18ft Dinghy and 7-M classes. The 18ft Dinghy was a 24ft 5in LOA (7.4m) and 18ft LWL restricted class boat with a bermudan rig. The British representative was Brat which had been designed by Morgan Giles and was sailed by Francis Richards and Thomas Hedburg. That summer, before and after the games, Brat regularly competed against three or four other 18ft Dinghies in the Solent and was by no means the fastest of them. “When she fi rst came out she was nearly uncontrollable in anything beyond a light air and after alteration steered badly,” according to one report in The Yachtsman. But in Ostend she had things much easier as she was the only boat in her class. In fact it isn’t entirely clear how much sailing she actually did while she was there, with one report suggesting that she failed to fi nish the fi rst race and didn’t start the other two. However, although it is possible that Richards and Hedburg never actually received their gold medals, as far as the International Olympic Committee’s offi cial records are concerned, they were Olympic champions.

Things were a little harder for Britain’s other entry, the 7-M Ancora, as she had another boat to race against and should have had a third, but the King of Spain’s Giralda V, which was entered, didn’t take part. Ancora was owned by Cyril Wright and his father-in-law Percy Machin, and Wright sailed her with his wife Dorothy

Above: 1920 Gold medal for Jo (the only female competitor in that Olympic regatta), Robert Coleman and William Maddison, all members of the Royal Burnham Yacht Club. In the fi rst race, the Norwegian boat Fornebo beat Ancora by more than four minutes but Ancora came back in the second to win by just over a minute. So it came down to a tense decider in which Ancora prevailed by just 14 seconds. It was to be nearly a century before a British married couple next won Olympic Gold together when, in 2016, Kate and Helen Richardson-Walsh both played in the victorious women’s hockey team.

The 12ft Dinghy class came about as a result of a design competition launched in the UK in 1912 by the Boat Racing Association and won by George Cockshott, an amateur boat designer from Southport, Lancashire. The fi rst boats were built the following year and were initially called BRA 12 Footers but soon after the First World War, as their popularity spread overseas, they became known as International 12s. In Ostend just two boats, both from Holland where the class was particularly popular, took part. After Boreas won the fi rst race, a dispute broke out after a mark drifted in the second race which took place in the inner harbour in the evening due to strong winds and big seas. It was eventually decided that the race should be void and that, as time had now run out, two more races should take place in the Buiten-IJ near Amsterdam in September. Beatrijis III which had come second in the fi rst race in Ostend when she was sailed by Cornelius Hin and his 14-year-old son Frans, then won both the September races when Frans sailed with his older brother Johan. It is thought that the only other time an Olympic event has been held outside the host country was when, during the 1956 Melbourne Games, Australian quarantine regulations resulted in the equestrian events being held in Stockholm.

The 40 Square Metre class also had just two boats from the same nation, in this case Sweden. One of the crew on the winning boat Sif was Tore Holm who was at the beginning of what would be a highly successful yacht design career. It was also the start of his long involvement with Olympic sailing as he subsequently won bronze in an 8-M in 1928, gold in a 6-M in 1932, came 4th in an 8-M in 1936, and won bronze again in a 6-M in 1948.

Another Scandinavian multi-Olympics sailor was Magnus Konow. In 1920 he won gold on board the Norwegian Second Rule 8-M Sildra, having won all three races against another Norwegian boat, Lyn, and the Belgian Antwerpia V. He had previously taken part in 1908 and 1912, and would subsequently do so again in 1928, 1936 and 1948, winning three medals in total.

In the 6.5-M class, the crew of the Dutch boat Oranje sportingly requested that the fi rst race should be postponed because the only other boat – Rose Pompon from France – had not yet cleared Belgian customs. Oranje then won all three races. The following month, 6.5-Ms were used to contest the One Ton Cup under the burgee of the Royal Thames Yacht Club at Ryde and Oranje (and a different French boat) came over to the Solent to take part. The overall winner would be the fi rst

boat to win three races. The British boat – Cordella, designed by Morgan Giles – was owned by Sir Ralph Gore and Algernon Maudsley and they must have regretted not taking her to Ostend as she not only won that One Ton Cup but she retained it in 1921 and 1922.

In the First Rule 6-M class – the only one with as many as four entries – it was the Belgian boat Suzy which became the only one in the whole regatta not to win a medal. It was close, however, because after the three scheduled races, she was tied for third place with the Norwegian boat Stella, but then lost a fourth deciding race.

On the evening of 10 July, a reception was held at Ostend’s Kursaal concert hall where gold, silver and bronze medals were presented to the crews and “handsome statuettes”, according to Yachting World, to the boats’ owners.

SURVIVORS

But what of the 1920 Olympic boats which are known to have survived? The Second Rule 6-M Jo – designed by Johan Anker and built by Anker & Jensen – damaged her mast in the fi rst race in 1920 but won the next two to take the gold medal. In 1997, 6-M class historian Tim Street and his wife discovered Jo “lying in a hedge with a tree growing up through her and with both ends chopped off, at the boatyard in Pin Mill, Suffolk”. Tim informed Peter Wilson, then of Aldeburgh Boatyard, who recovered her, found an owner willing to take her on and began to restore her. Following the untimely death of that owner the work stopped for many years but is now under way again for another owner at Demon Yachts.

Another 6-M which may have survived is Edelweiss II which was designed by Linton Hope and won the gold medal in the First Rule class in 1920. On the face of it she had the toughest Olympic regatta as she had to beat three other boats – the Norwegian yachts Marmi and Stella, and the unfortunate Suzy. About 30 years ago, Tim Street was contacted by two Belgians who had acquired Edelweiss II and were researching her history and were about to begin a restoration. Tim didn’t hear from them again but it is thought that around 2012 she may have been owned by Werner Huybrechts from Antwerp. Tim also thinks that the Fife boat Marmi “could still be in existence in Italy. She was up to a few years ago,” he said. Two other boats which are defi nitely still in existence are the First Rule 8-M Ierne and the Second Rule 10-M Mosk II, both of which won gold for Norway in 1920 although, as the only boats in their classes, they only had to sail over in two races to do so. Ierne – designed and built by Fife – is owned by Huw Morris Jones who found her “rotting in a fruit shed in Portugal in 2006”. After an extensive restoration she won Classic Boat’s Restoration of the Year award in 2009 and since then she has been based in Hull, but is now for sale. Mosk II was another Anker design which was built at his own Anker & Jensen yard. (In fact Anker himself was a three-time Olympian: not in 1920, but he did win gold in 1912 and 1928.) After the 1920 Games, Mosk II was owned by the King of Denmark for a while, and then by the prominent Swedish Wallenberg family. Since 1997 she has been owned by Christian Gude and his family who keep her in Blommenholm in Norway. They have restored her to “a high standard where originality is the most important thing” and she has twice won the prize for the best restored sailing boat at the Risør Wooden Boat Festival. “We take part in all the big regattas here in Norway every year,” Christian told me.

“At the moment we are a trifl e war-worn, perhaps, but at any rate the Olympic ideal has met with scant enthusiasm,” wrote a Yachting Monthly correspondent in a piece titled ‘The value of International Sport’ soon after the 1920 Games. “Human nature is a funny thing, but it must be considered in such matters, and one critic sagely reminds us that the competition between two sportsmen of one nationality is a very different thing to that between representatives of different nations... certainly one cannot trace much good effect from international competition in the past… the feeling is that national prestige is inclined to outweigh purely personal interpretation of right and wrong.”

Above: Jo, winner of the Second Rule 6-M class in 1920, and pictured in the shed, with restoration work taking place

BRISTOL 32

It seems like more than just a decade ago that Win Cnoops of Star Yachts, based in the historic Underfalls Boatyard in Bristol, hit upon his winning formula for the handsome, retro, wheelhouse cabin motor yacht. Strip-plank build, stepped sheer and upright stem are a given, but layout and spec are bespoke: river or sea, single or twin engines… he’s even built an open 16ft (4.9m) launch to the same formula, as a tender to the 32ft (9.8m) matching mothership. Twin Yanmar 110hp diesels, married to one of Andrew Wolstenholme’s tried-and-tested semi-displacement hulls, gives comfortable 20-knot-plus. The 32 pictured here won our 2018 award for best newly-built powered vessel. See staryachts.co.uk

POWER GRAB

The spirit of tradition is making increasing inroads into the power boat market. Here are just a few

WORDS STEFFAN MEYRIC HUGHES

No one could have failed to notice the rise and rise of the so-called ‘spirit of tradition’ sailing yachts. These are simply new yachts, in GRP, modern-timber construction or metal, with the appeal of an older design. From the Cornish Shrimper to Spirit’s new 111 superyacht, the formula has been established for half a century.

The movement, under different names and guises, has been replicated around the world. Even Apple products bear clear similarities to Braun electrical goods of the 50s and 60s, and numerous road vehicles from the FIAT 500 to the London bus have followed suit. Motorboats have been no exception to the rule, with seemingly every other boat at a boat show sporting teak swept decks, classic transoms or a spot of tumblehome, albeit often compromised by the patio doors at the aft end of the house. Have we fallen out of love with the future? Is a planing boat styled with a razorblade now just a figment of the 1980s, like Miami Vice?

The true picture is rather more complex. At the bleeding edge, motor yachts are so radical they need to be seen to be believed. In today’s motorboat press, fully electric foiling boats rub shoulders with cruising yachts with all-glass transoms. If you thought carbon fibre was modern, forget it. There are printed boats out there. It’s this riot which, though often interesting and innovative, usually lacks aesthetic sensibility. This has helped to fuel the counter culture for handsome, traditional craft that pay respect to their roots. Boats, in short, that a yachtsman switching to power, would not be ashamed to be seen in.

They are starting to fall into categories: the semidisplacement style of hull now rules supreme in seagoing, cabin motor yachts from 25-60ft or so. These are generally highly capable, fast, seaworthy vessels in GRP or modern wood build that will take you anywhere almost flat, with better visibility and economy than planing craft, and at least 20 knots. They provide the answer to most prayers, but you’d better be ready to dig deep if that’s what you want. Planing boats in this category will go even faster: up to 35 or 40 knots. The ride will be harder but more thrilling and you are even more able to outrun the weather – or face it, by coming off the plane.

Traditional river boats have been news for a long time. These days they are almost all electric. There are also plenty of smaller outboard-powered runabouts and smaller ‘harbour’ launches with an inboard diesel in a box. It’s a fast-growing market, and there is already a lot of choice for those who won’t stand white plastic.

PTS26

The PTS26 has an unusual design cue in the sense that it was drawn, by the huge Dutch design house Vripak, fi rmly in the manner of the Swedish master CG Pettersson. It’s surely one of the best looking spirit-of-tradition motorboats yet, and it’s proving very popular in Britain too, with a full order book and waiting list at British distributor Henley Sales and Charter. This is a GRP-hulled, single-diesel (or electric) semi-displacement boat of the sort you might call a ‘weekend launch’, with very good cockpit space for the size, an optional sprayhood and some perfectly usable accommodation for two, with a galley and heads. Build quality is second to none and pricing is keen, at about £100,000 or less for river spec launch, more for a seagoing version. The 190hp version we tested did about 20 knots. With nearly 100 built in 13 years, the builder, Statement Marine, is expanding the range with a 31 and a 22. See statementmarine.nl and hscboats.co.uk

HOOD 57LM

We’ve never seen anything quite like this before. You might call this an ‘express cruiser’ as the makers do, which is an apt description but the visual appeal is a masterstroke, combining a solid timber, highly varnished hull with the rugged, yet curvy, appeal of the fl ybridge sport fi sher. The hull is built by a venerable name in American motorboats – Lyman Morse, who built hundreds of open runabouts and sailing yachts. The design is by CW Hood and Stephens Waring. We’re not alone in doing a double-take at the appearance of this boat, which has created quite a stir in the boating press since its recent launch. Thankfully, the performance matches the promise of its looks: twin Volvo 1,350hp pod-drive diesels on a planing hull give a cruising speed of 32 knots with the top whack at just under 40. Inside, she o ers good accommodation for four. There is now a 35-footer in build to the same formula. See cwhoodyachts.com

DALE 37

Welsh company Dale, which is celebrating half a century in the marine trade this year, has carved out a big reputation for its solid, seaworthy, fast, ocean-going twin-diesel semi-displacement yachts. Motorboat magazine reviews rave and gasp in turns, but there’s no mystery when you consider the design of their boats, which is by Arthur Mursell, designer of much of the famous Nelson range, used for decades by everyone who needs a motor launch capable of nearly anything. Users include the Royal Navy, police and pilotage service, but the Nelson is also loved by discerning yachtsmen. The Dale 37, based on that pedigree hull, but with classic styling, is their latest offering, now in build. The appearance Is more ‘modern retro’ than the timeless, unburstable Nelson 38 pictured here. See dalenelson.co.uk

DUCHY 35

Cockwells is one of the most diverse boatbuilders in Britain today, having built everything from a traditional wooden pilot cutter, to many wooden boat restorations, through to what they specialise in today – superyacht tenders and modern-retro powerboats, of which the Duchy range is particularly well-known. We were lucky enough to try out a well-specced 35 some years ago. It’s a bespoke offering, but typically comes as a twincabin, twin diesel boat. The appeal is in the mixture of space-age tech, traditional appeal in the design and comfort on board: the level of woodwork detailing in the interior makes the boat feel special. Add 25 knots+ of semi displacement speed, which feels like planing level, and gobs of seaworthiness and you have a stylish, tough, seagoing companion that even a sailor would be proud to own. The rest of the range includes the 27 and the 21, an open picnic launch based on an old harbour boat. Moving up the size range, there is a 45 and a 60. All boats are in GRP. See cockwells.co.uk/duchy-launches.

WHEELER 38

Most spirit-of-tradition motor yachts stem from a specific boat by a specific builder. In that sense, the new Wheeler 38 launched last year by Brooklin Boatyard in Maine is no different. She’s a new interpretation by Bill Prince Yacht Design of a model popular in the 1930s – a Playmate 38. What makes this unusual is that it’s modelled after the Playmate 38 owned by one of the most famous novelists of the 20th century – deep-sea angling aficionado Ernest Hemingway. The original boat was built by Wheeler Shipyard, who built around 3,500 boats before closing in the 1950s. This one was commissioned by descendant Wes Wheeler, who is as excited about rebuilding the brand as he is about the boat itself, a cold-moulded fast cruiser powered by twin Yanmar 370hp diesels to give a cruising speed of 20 knots and a top end over 30. She sleeps four. See wheeleryachts.com.

MAYFLY 21

Like the PTS26, the Mayfly seris of inland waterway launches has been a rare success. For years, mass-market Dutch-style ‘sloeps’ have dominated the English inland waterways day boat market, and it’s good to see British builders like Creative Marine and Landamores offering local alternatives. Taking a Mayfly 21 out for the day from Landamores Boatyard in Norfolk was an eye-opener, even in the pouring rain! The 4kW Torqeedo pod motor, controlled by joystick, is breathtaking in its linear power delivery and absurd torque. You get 60 miles at 5mph, and she’ll seat 10! Combine that with the visual appeal, and you can see how boats like this have made the internal combustion engine history on inland waters.

See landamores.co.uk

MONOMOY 26

Utility-style runabouts are popular once more, and this, designed by Matt Smith and built by First Light Boat Works in Massachusetts, is of the nicest. She ticks many boxes: real timber clinker topsides (the bottom is in wood/glass composite), centre console steering, seating for 8-12, a swim platform, low draught, and ‘beachability’ thanks to a kick-up inboard-outboard motor installation. She’s husky enough to go to sea, with drop-dead looks – and, with a 140hp outboard, will take you all the way to 30 knots if you are in the mood. Sadly, the nearest we got to taking one for a spin was seeing one in build at the yard, in the Massachusetts countryside! See fi rstlightboatworks.com

SEOL 18

This o ering is the fi rst motorboat from French spirit-oftradition sailing yacht builder Franck Roy, who have built more than 200 such boats since their inception in 1998. We are fi rmly in ‘utility runabout’ style language here, albeit in GRP rather than stained and varnished mahogany, as builders like ChrisCraft used to create these kinds of boats. The yard has already built a couple, with 80hp outoboards, which should prove plenty for a small (18ft/5.5m) planing boat to fulfi l its stated objectives of fun days out on the water and towing a skier, where the aft-facing rear seats will come into their own. Just about everything apart from the hull is solid wood, and it’s a reasonable tow at 550kg. See cnfr.fr

OUTBOARD DINGHY

“A practical wee dinghy with plenty of load-carrying capability,” is builder Alasdair Grant’s description of this 12-footer (3.7m) designed by Paul Gartside. It should make a suitable boat for a day of fi shing with the family, or as a tender. She’s built of larch planks copper riveted onto an oak backbone, with oak gunnels and knees and a larch thwart. Two long oak bilge keels help with launching on and o a beach. She’ll take anything from 2.5hp to 10hp on the transom, with 8hp giving 8 knots, although 10hp might be the ideal choice for getting over the hump and onto the plane. The sight of a clinker motor dinghy planing under a light motor is timeless. See isleeweboats.co.uk for more.

Author swims beneath Celeste, Tuamotu, 2018

SAILING TO DIVE

Sailing French Polynesia’s ‘Dangerous Archipelago’ might be easy with GPS, but under the surface it’s all fast currents... and sharks

Ever since I first sailed to the Tuamotu archipelago 15 years ago, I’ve wanted to dive the famous South Pass of Fakarava atoll.

At that time, I was still fairly new to ocean sailing, and certainly to scuba diving. My partner Seth and I had sailed Heretic, our primitive 38ft (11.6m) sloop copy of the S&S yawl Finisterre, about 10,000 sea miles from Maine, going through the Panama Canal and across the Pacific to French Polynesia. Before the voyage we had both been small-boat sailors and racers and those 10,000 miles were our first offshore. As for scuba diving, we were complete novices: we had breathed underwater for the first time in the British West Indies en route to Panama. In the Galapagos, we had earned our advanced dive certification; in the Marquesas, we had made our first dives on our own from Heretic without a guide. We were keen on diving, but little did we know that when we reached the Tuamotu atolls, we would be hooked.

Tuamotu means “many motu” in the local language, a motu being a coral islet. It’s a perfect name for this great arc of coral atolls, stretching across more than 1,000 miles of the South Pacific. An atoll is essentially a coral reef enclosing a lagoon, often with motu atop the reef. The Tuamotu – part of French Polynesia – lie right in the path of any sailor en route from Panama to Tahiti. They were long known to sailors as the ‘Dangerous Archipelago’ because of the hazards posed by the reefs before GPS and accurate charts. Today much of that risk is gone: sailing there is no longer the sort of adventure where a misstep can bring grave mishap. While that’s pleasant of course, sometimes it’s good to have a challenge. Enter diving.

IT’S ALL ABOUT SHARKS

Diving in the Tuamotu is all about sharks and fast currents. If you wish, it can also be about depth and decompression. Most diving takes place in the passes leading into the atolls, and on an outgoing tide, these passes are dangerous for sailors and divers alike. The ebb pours out of some of the lagoons at speeds over eight knots, raising steep standing waves as it sets against the wind. Beneath the waves, the outflow creates a ferocious down-current, potentially lethal to a diver caught in it. All drift dives are consequently done on flood tides, going into the lagoon. Sailors navigate these passes at slack water or the start of a flood, when the surface is calm.

The largest atoll of the archipelago, Rangiroa, also has one of the strongest currents. When Seth and I sailed there 15 years ago, we managed to time our arrival for slack tide. Given that we were arriving at the end of a six-day passage (from the Marquesas, the archipelago about 600 miles to the northeast), our favourable timing was mostly luck, but we took it and wafted through the placid pass under only our genoa. We rounded the corner into the anchorage, tacked up into shallower water, luffed into the wind and dropped the hook. We were true sailing purists – also impoverished 20-year-olds – and never used the engine if we could help it. A few hours later, walking ashore, we saw what Tiputa Pass becomes on the ebb, dolphins leaping from the steep white water: it was quite a sight, not something we would ever want to be caught in.

The following day, on the flood tide, we slipped underwater to witness Rangiroa’s phenomenal diving. We began by backrolling into the open ocean, right into

a school of barracuda, then descending to a school of grey reef sharks. Still a novice diver at that time, I remember marvelling at the otherworldly sensation of floating weightless in a water column that felt as clear as air, surrounded by the predators whose home this is. Then we let the current take us into the pass and we flew along faster and faster. It was exhilarating, to the point where I ran out of air and had to breath from the dive guide’s extra regulator. Towards the end, a huge manta ray was turning somersaults right in our path. Even now, with many dives under my weight-belt, this is still my most memorable, partly because it was my first really challenging dive. In the same way, my first crossing of the Pacific remains my most memorable passage.

When Rangiroa’s fringe of palms dipped below the horizon in Heretic’s wake about 10 days later, we vowed one day to return. Through very lucky circumstances, we did, after nearly 12 years. We had sold Heretic by then, and had bought another old classic: Celeste, a 40ft (12.2m) cold-moulded wooden sloop designed by Francis Kinney, editor of Skene’s Elements of Yacht Design.

In 2018 we again made the long passage across the Pacific to French Polynesia, this time from Mexico (CB October 2020). After a week or so in the Marquesas we set off for the southern end of the Tuamotu chain, to an atoll called Hao. The first time we’d sailed from the Marquesas to the Tuamotu, we’d enjoyed a pleasant and even-keeled – if slow – six-day amble downwind. This time, our angle on the trade wind was a close-reach and the breeze was strong. Instead of swaying before the wind wing ‘n’ wing, we punched into head seas for four and a half days under triple-reefed main, jib, and staysail.

Now in our 30s, we were too conscientious to rely on luck for weather forecasting or tide times. So, of course, we got worse weather and our tide tables were wrong. We had to wait outside the atoll, tacking back and forth for five hours before the current calmed enough to let us in.

Sailing inside a lagoon is a treat for an ocean sailor. The water is flat calm but the wind blows strongly and consistently over the tops of the palms. It’s like a lake, but better because there’s almost nothing to block or shift the wind and because many of these lagoons are immense. You can fly along for hours without any

Above: Orange-fin anemone fish, Garuae Pass

Below: Seth sailing Celeste inside a lagoon pitching or rolling, your boat showing all the best of her performance. Once inside Hao’s lagoon, it was a very quick, pleasant skim across the water to the anchorage.

NUCLEAR ANCHORAGE

The anchorage was a crumbling wharf, convenient and very sheltered. Hao is a sleepy place without any tourist infrastructure; the atoll is the site of the former French military base from which the nuclear tests were launched from 1966-1996. Until fairly recently, no one was allowed to visit. Seth and I were curious to see it, partly for its history. Ashore, there is still evidence of the military presence, particularly in the enormous runway, out of proportion to the tiny volume of local air traffic now using it. Underwater, we were saddened to see the state of the lagoon: murky, much of the coral dead, and with significant sunken debris.

In a place like this there are no scuba operators. Diving while leaving the boat untended is inadvisable, particularly given the bad anchor holding in coral, and the damage it causes, so Seth and I were thrilled to be invited to join the Hao Dive Club, a group of French teachers at the local school who had united to buy a boat and an air compressor. They were all very skilled and rather risk-loving and preferred to make quite deep dives on the coral walls outside the lagoon entrance. This is where most of the big critters were: reef sharks cruising above seemingly infinite schools of red bigeyes; manta rays turning lazy circles just below us at 140ft (43m); schools of rainbow runners and sometimes a big tuna; once or twice a 5m (16ft) tiger shark.

After two months between Hao and an even more remote neighbouring atoll, it was time to sail back to the Marquesas where we planned to leave Celeste for the cyclone season after our visas ran out. We rode east for two days on the back of a low pressure system, sailing upwind until we dropped anchor in the moonlight, alone among the spires of the famous of Baie des Vierges on Fatu Hiva.

The following year we spent entirely in the Marquesas, but last year we returned once again to the Tuamotu. This time our main destination was the place we had long dreamed of diving: Fakarava Atoll.

Fakarava lies in the middle of the Tuamotu arc and is one of the largest of the group: its coral motu encompass a lagoon with a surface area of over 1,000km2. The narrow coral-lined alleyway of Tumakohua Pass in the south has made the atoll renowned among divers and has led to Fakarava’s status as a UNESCO biosphere reserve. The coral reefs there are brilliantly alive, hosting thousands of reef fish, from little dartfish hiding in the coral to behemoth Napoleon wrasse which can tip the scales at 400 pounds. The reefs are also home to hundreds of sharks, including one of the biggest aggregations of gray reef sharks in the world.

Getting there was a gallop to windward in 12ft (3.7m) of swell. With only jib and staysail up, we had the lee rail buried nearly the entire time and were shipping so much water over the bow that we couldn’t open the centre hatch for air. As we plotted our daily noon position, however, we found we were consistently making our fastest runs ever: more than 180 miles made good one day – in a boat with just 28ft (8.5m) waterline. We covered the 550 nautical miles and raised the atoll in just three days.

Main picture: Ball of paddletail and one-spot snapper, Tumahokua (South) Pass, Fakarava Above left: Picnic at Motu Above right: Reef shark in the shallows, Rangiroa

Our first dive, on Garuae Pass, turned out to be one of the most adrenaline-pumping I’ve ever done. We went back again and again. We would backroll into the open ocean just outside the pass, during the height of the flood and descend rapidly to the coral shelf at 120ft (37m) to keep from being swept into the lagoon. Down at depths close to decompression limits, we hooked onto outcrops of dead coral and stare out at the parade of reef sharks. The current flowing over us was occasionally so strong that it threatened to tear my regulator out of my mouth. After about 10 minutes of shark lookout – nearly enough time to require decompression – the guide would signal to let go and we would lift off into the 4-5 knot current. I’d made decompression dives before, and wreck dives well inside submerged ships, but this was a thrilling dive.

Tumakohua – South Pass – was beckoning. Seth and I sailed Celeste the full length of Fakarava’s lagoon, nearly 40 miles along the coral motu lining the windward side. The protected waters once again made for superb sailing and Celeste heeled cleanly and flew upwind through the flat water. We attached the tiller extension and stood on the windward deck, as though steering a dinghy.

I have never seen such pristine coral as where we began the dive at the drop-off at 90ft (27m). Plate after plate of it staircased into the abyss. The first time we went, we were visited by five of the most enormous eagle rays I’ve ever seen, but every time the sharks stole the show. Hundreds swam slowly past in phalanxes. In the mix were a couple of species one doesn’t often see: blacktips, open water sharks, faster and more energetic than the reef sharks.

Sailors like to sail, so after as many more dives as we could do, we set off for the less-visited atoll of Toau, making it in two day sails. We anchored in several spots on Toau over the next week or so, doing a few dives from our dinghy, snorkelling, walking the beaches, and getting to know the few local residents. Then we returned to Rangiroa, more touristy than on our first visit over a decade ago, but otherwise unchanged.

The overnight sail to this largest atoll, the site of so many memories from our round-the-world voyage, was the sort to make any ocean sailor forget all the gales and upwind slogs. I had one of those night watches you don’t want to end, ghosting downwind with 15 knots on the quarter, a clear sky glittering with stars overhead, and phosphorescence shining in the wake. One one dive there, we were approached by an inquisitive great hammerhead. To be investigated by this iconic, critically endangered shark, while floating 50ft down, was unforgettable.

We did a couple of sunset dives. Before leaving French Polynesia, we sailed twice more over the rippled lagoon. Once again we had the beautiful palm-fringed motu to ourselves and we passed a few lazy days strolling the coral beaches and snorkelling. We sailed back up to the pass on the day of our departure for Hawaii and slid through it at just the start of the ebb. As we went, we were visited by Rangiroa’s favourite residents, its pod of bottlenose dolphins, perhaps the same dolphins we had seen leaping clear of the standing waves all those years before. Once again, we vowed to return.

Above left: Ebb tide at Hao Atoll

Above right: Celeste tied to Hao’s abandoned wharf, author on the bicycle

How to get there

The challenges in sailing to the South Seas used to be about seamanship and navigation; unfortunately they now also include bureaucracy. Make sure before you set off to check that the countries you wish to visit are even open to non-residents and, if so, what the entry requirements are. Nevertheless, a well-found yacht and sufficient skills to cross an ocean remain the most important considerations. The stakes are higher if you get that wrong than if you mess up the paperwork. And if you mess up the paperwork, you may find yourself on a much longer ocean voyage than planned.

SAILING CONDITIONS

French Polynesia is tropical: its weather is governed by the southeast trades in winter (April-September) and by cyclone season from November to March. Cyclones are rare but most insurers won’t cover a boat over cyclone season.

TIDES

The best tide tables for the Tuamotu are on the French site maree.shom.fr.

DIVING CONDITIONS IN THE TUAMOTUS

Visibility usually exceeds 100ft (30.1m) outside the Tuamotu passes but can drop to 30-40ft inside the lagoon. Water temperature ranges from 25-28°C. Summer April through September sees stronger winds and choppier seas. October to March – cyclone season – will be calmer but hotter and more humid. Dives usually involve strong current. Divers should consider evacuation insurance; the nearest recompression chamber is in Tahiti, a flight distance of one to two hours from the islands with airports.