The following are from the Changes in Latitudes section of that great Left Coast sailing magazine, Latititude 38.
©2000 Latitude 38 Publishing Co., Inc.
Aug 2000
- roy 6/22/00
Roy - Relying on various businesses
in Cabo to keep an accurate list of cruising boats and cruiser
names has always been an exercise in extreme futility. We apologize
for the nickname somebody bestowed on you. But how's this for
a better one: 'Roy the Ramblin' Romantic'? After all, 17 women
during one circumnavigation may be some kind of record. Readers
- probably male - who want to know how this came about, should
tune into next month's Changes. Sept 2000 Breta - Columbia 34 MKII This is in answer to some questions Latitude
asked in response to the Changes I wrote for the August issue,
as well as some clarifications. By the way, I think Latitude
did a good job of piecing together my disparate emails into the
Sightings and the Changes - but 'Roy the Ramblin Romantic'? I
dunno, I think I liked 'Lonesome Roy' better. The first question was about the boat I
used for my nearly five year - at $450 a month for everything
- circumnavigation. Yes, my Columbia 34 was a Mark II that had
been built in 1971 - a design Latitude notes has often
been criticized for oil-canning in rough seas and for possibly
having excessive freeboard. Sisterships to this boat can be found
in almost any large California marina. It's difficult for me to
compare the boat to other designs, because she was the first and
only boat I owned - until last year when I bought a LaFitte 44.
But having said that, here are my impressions: I like the Columbia 34 design - which has
a flush deck - very much, although I don't think the workmanship
was particularly good. But it was obviously good enough to get
me around the world. As for the high freeboard, I didn't find
any major disadvantages - except that it's ugly and tends to make
the boat more lively at anchor during strong gusts. The advantages
of high freeboard are that it provides a tremendous amount of
interior space - the Columbia is still one of the biggest 34-footers
around - gives the boat a lot of reserve buoyancy, and makes for
an extremely dry ride. Because she's 10 feet longer, my LaFitte
has almost as much freeboard as the Columbia, but is actually
a wetter boat. Of course, the LaFitte is far heavier and averages
a knot faster, so she tends to plow through the waves rather than
lift over them. Incidentally, I think high freeboard only works
on a flush-deck boat, as the overall windage of a high-freeboard
flush-deck boat is not significantly greater than that of a cabin
top design. It's true that my Columbia 34 - I still
own her - was prone to pounding. This happened a lot while going
up the Red Sea - a passage notorious for being rough on boats
and crew - with the result that some spider cracks in the gelcoat
seemed to get even longer. Despite this, the Columbia actually
did great in the characteristically short and square seas of the
Red Sea. One reason is that the bulky looking hull is actually
quite narrow: just 10 feet of beam. The 'oil canning'- meaning the flexing of
relatively thin and unsupported areas of the hull - was more a
concern during the two haulouts than while in the water. The problem
was that the hull on either side of the engine pan is poorly supported
and could have easily been deflected inward if the stands hadn't
been properly placed. I made no hull modifications before leaving,
but could have beefed up this area with some stringers. I bought my Columbia 34 in 1988 for $20,000,
then lived aboard for five years while I slowly fixed her up while
working and saving. When I bought her, she was supposed to be
my 'practice boat' and a way to live inexpensively. My plan was
to wait until the year 2000 - a nice round number - and buy a
'real cruising boat' at the age of 42. For various reasons I decided
to leave earlier with less money and a less-than-ideal boat. I
figured that my relative youth - 35 years of age - would make
up for not having a roller furler, dodger, refrigeration and experience.
Besides, some of the local dockside experts kept saying "those
old Columbias are good boats, you don't need another one."
For once, it seems they were right. Like most cruisers, during my years of cruising
I slowly formed an opinion of the 'perfect cruising boat'. I leaned
toward something like a Freya 39 or a Corbin 39 - until I came
across the LaFitte 44. But in many ways, a boat is a boat. When
the waves are just the wrong size for your boat, the guy in the
smaller boat and the guy in the larger boat will be better off
than you - until the size and frequency of the waves change. So much for my Columbia 34. When choosing
my navigation equipment, I opted for a somewhat unusual combination
of a 'black-box' GPS - it has no controls or screen - and a cheap
286 IBM clone laptop. The computer had a black and white screen
and ran MS-DOS because it couldn't handle Windows. I also had
a sextant and a back-up handheld GPS - neither of which ever got
used. The black-box/laptop combo allowed me to store every single
waypoint - including harbor entrances and anchorages for my entire
circumnavigation. There were about 1,300 of them, and I've recently
split the mass of waypoints into smaller 'routes', and converted
it all to a Windows-friendly format. I'm thinking of selling it
if there's interest. Cruisers are always asking, "what's
your waypoint", at some entrance or anchorage, so I think
it might prove useful. I certainly could have used it when I started
out. In the last issue, you stated that I originally
intended to circumnavigate single-handed because I didn't feel
I was a good enough sailor to take crew along. This is essentially
correct, but a bit overstated. Even in the early days of my circumnavigation
I considered myself to be about as competent as the next Mexico
bound beginner, but I felt taking on unknown crew - especially
of the fun-loving backpacker variety - would be an additional
responsibility that I didn't want at the time. Having someone
new aboard is usually interesting and sometimes fun until the
crew gets 'acclimated', but until then they can making running
the boat even harder than if you're by yourself. You need to have
complete confidence in your abilities to handle the boat alone
before you take on any untried crew, and by the time I got to
Oz, I felt I was a good enough sailor to consider some crew and
companionship. The event that precipitated it was meeting
a backpacker at a party on the Gold Coast of Oz one night, who
told me that he and every other backpacker he knew would kill
to get aboard a boat such as mine for a sail up to the Whitsunday
Islands. 'You could get boatloads of sheilas" - Aussie for
'young women' - "as crew and make 'em pay for the privilege",
is a polite way to express the jist of his advice. After thinking
about it for a while, I visited some of the hostels and posted
flyers that read as follows - "Boat headed north. Looking
for crew. Share expenses. I discriminate in favor of vegetarian
females." To make a long story short, the guy was
right. I soon had many more applicants than I wanted, almost all
female, and all either claimed to be veggies or willing to convert
for at least the duration of sailing with me. My original email
stated that I had 17 crew during my circumnavigation, all female,
and all from my 15 months of cruising in Australia. Actually,
that's not correct. I really had 18 crew. One of them, in fact
the first, was a guy. Another was a German girl I met while she
was backpacking in Bali. While 18 crew might seem like a lot, I often
took them in pairs. Often times I couldn't decide who among them
to take, so I took two or even three. Only one of them had any
prior sailing experience. Some left the boat too quickly for my
liking, others stuck it out for longer than I preferred. But a
number of them became 'regulars', joining Breta months
- and even years - later for the second or third time. As I said,
I usually ended up taking pairs of females on board. Sometimes
both jumped ship together, sometimes one stayed. In general, I
found both stuck around longer if they hadn't come aboard as travelling
buddies. For some reason three strangers on a boat seems to be
a good mix. Then you just add some natural splendor, some lumpy
seas and a black cat, and see what develops. In any case, Oz is where I started my crew
search - and pretty much ended it, too. For before long, I'd built
up a small core of individuals who would join me again later,
so I stopped searching - until now, that is. Most of my old core
group have either married or had children - or both - which is
not ideal crew for a solo guy. As you know, there are many crew horror
stories making the rounds of the world's oceans, and I witnessed
some on other boats before I decided to take on crew. Happily,
I can honestly say that I never had a really bad crewmember. In
retrospect, I think it had a lot to do with how and where the
crew search took place. My notices contained a sort of prescreening,
as the phrase "I discriminate in favor of fit vegetarian
females" kept most of the backpacking public away. Despite
this, some couples and single guys would show up at the boat.
In fact, my very first crew was an Ozzie professional cook looking
for a chef's position at one of the resorts up the coast. I thought
he did really well - considering the lumpy seas we encountered
and the miserable old alcohol stove he had to work with. Nonetheless,
he jumped ship fairly quickly - and I can't say that I blame him. If anyone else is thinking of finding crew
the way I did, here's some advice. Take on new crew in regions
where the sailing will be coastal hops, as this always gives them
the opportunity to jump ship and gives you the opportunity to
change crew. I avoided taking untried crew on big crossings, as
these should obviously be reserved for tried and true crewmembers.
I also tried not to take crew across borders, because in most
countries it would have made me as responsible for my crew as
a father is for his underage kids. Your crew list can legally
bind you to leave the country with the same crew you arrived with. Finally, there's the money issue. While
I'm sure that most of my crew would have been willing to pay at
least what they would have paid for staying in a hostel, I decided
against that. I didn't want to run a poor man's charter outfit
- which would have been illegal most places anyway - but opted
for a strict sharing of the expenses for food, fuel and the occasional
marina or mooring. All of my crew felt they got a real bargain.
I did too, because they did all the cooking. While this might
sound like a sexist apportionment of duties, believe me, it was
in their best interest, as nobody would have been happy with the
stuff I serve up. There was only one potentially dangerous
incident caused by my crew. On one occasion a particularly ambitious
crew decided to try my 25-year-old alcohol powered oven, which
I had never used before. All went well until the valve stem broke
and pressurized burning fuel flooded the galley. I almost lost
the boat on that one. Luckily, alcohol burns with a relatively
cool flame that can be extinguished with water, and a few big
buckets of seawater did the trick. Some singed hair and clothes,
fried curtains, melted Lexan, and discolored fiberglass were the
only damages. Had it been any other fuel, my boat would be part
of the Great Barrier Reef by now. People often want to know about the worst
weather I encountered in seven years. I took my old Columbia 34
through both canals - Suez and Panama - to play it safe, but a
couple of rough areas still stick in my mind. The highest sustained
winds - excluding squalls and thunderstorms - were probably about
40+ knots. I can't say for sure because I didn't have an anemometer.
This happened between Ithatca, Greece, and the heel of Italy.
It was on the nose and plenty lumpy, but lasted less than 24 hours. Another bad period was when I crossed the
Tasman Sea from the top of New Zealand to Coffs Harbor, OZ. I
timed the weather a bit badly, and thus arrived at Coff's Harbor
more exhausted then at the end of any other leg. It hadn't really
been a dangerous sail, just days on end of ugliness. The Red Sea
was the Red Sea, of course, but I had one of my favorite crew
along with me so it didn't seem so bad. The places I'm looking forward to returning
to? None in particular. In fact, this time around I hope to check
out the places that I didn't get to last time. That means transiting
fewer canals and rounding more capes. But, I suppose my favorite
place was Oz, and for many reasons. I spent over a year there:
Coff's Harbor to the Whitsundays, the Whitsundays to Sydney, Sydney
to Darwin - and really enjoyed it. Fiji probably had my favorite islands -
although Malaysia and Thailand had some great ones, too. Places
to skip? New Zealand - but only because I had a big battle with
the bureaucracy about my cat. Also, that was the same year they
started the now discontinued 'safety inspections'. New Zealand
is a nice country with nice people, but nothing sours me more
on a place than having to fight officialdom. Even though I lived on $450 a month, some
will naturally wonder how I'm now able to own both my Columbia
34 and a LaFitte 44 - which costs more than $20,000. The answer
is a combination of being very frugal, having bought the LaFitte
in Mexico, and some good luck. I have to give most of the credit
to the booming stock market of the last five years. Had it gone
the other way, I'd now be back in the job market instead of getting
ready to head out again. Although I'm very tempted to say, "anyone
who puts their mind to it can do as I did", I don't believe
it's quite as easy as it was before. The Bay Area seems to be
a different place from when I left. Maybe I've been gone too long,
but everything seems much 'tighter'. Marinas, for instance, have
less room and cost more. Insurance is required everywhere - in
fact, I'd never needed it until I returned and a marina made me
get it. Living aboard is far more difficult, and the tax assessors
are more confiscatory. I could go on, but I don't want to get
into a whining mode. For me there has always been a pull and
a push to the cruising equation - something positive pulling me
out to explore the world, and something negative pushing me out.
I have to say that the push forces are stronger now in the Bay
Area than they were then. Northern California is still a great
place to visit, but I'm heading out again real soon. I'm not someone who enjoys publicity, but
Latitude's earlier articles added so much to my 'if they
can do it, so can I' attitude. As such, I felt it was only right
that I contribute something in return. Tomorrow I'll start driving
up to Oregon, Washington, British Columbia and maybe parts of
Alaska. While in Oregon, I'll be visiting old cruising friends
from Nonchalant and Ingrid Princess. They also circumnavigated,
so I'll encourage them to send you their stories as well. Mainly
I'll be scouting out the coast and the marinas, because I plan
to take the LaFitte up that way. - roy 6/1/2000 Readers - Do you hear that low roar?
We think it's the sound of hundreds of newly minted male vegetarian
boatowners throwing off their dock lines and setting sail for
the youth hostels of Australia.
Roy Wessbecher
How I Did It
(Bay Area)