As far back as I can remember, I have always enjoyed the challenge of finding solutions to practical problems. This was certainly the case when I started work on fitting out the first Aventura. As an absolute greenhorn in anything nautical, I was forced to come up with answers to complex questions in virtually everything I touched.

The boat had a center cockpit and aft cabin, and the wheel was too far from the rudderstock. The easiest and cheapest solution was to have hydraulic steering, but that meant I could not use the self-steering gear whose control lines had to lead to a drum on the wheel or to a tiller. The solution I came up with was to extend the rudderstock by way of a 6-foot-long, 40-mm steel bar to the level of the aft deck, and then fit a tiller to it. The lines of the Aries gear were easily led to it. We could steer with the wheel and the tiller.

Many of the solutions that followed were rather unorthodox, but they worked. I repeated several of them on my future boats, such as having a day tank for the engine. On a number of occasions, the easiest solution was to do without certain nonessential items, such as a diesel genset or freezer.

Going without a diesel genset was the easiest decision because we simply couldn’t afford one. Auxiliary diesel generators for cruising boats were still a novelty in those days, and only the largest boats in the South Pacific had one. Our electrical consumption was modest, and we often used paraffin lamps. We managed to charge our one and only battery by the main engine. Later, on Aventura II, there was no need for a genset because one of the twin engines fulfilled that role efficiently. Aventura III had an additional large-capacity alternator, and a wind and towing generator. By the time Aventura IV came on the scene, we relied almost entirely on renewable sources of energy by having wind, solar and hydro generators. As for Aventura Zero, her name reflects my aim to do away completely with fossil fuels for generation and propulsion.

Not having a freezer was also an easy decision because we never had one at home. We always preferred to eat fresh things. On the subsequent Aventuras, we did have a refrigerator and learned to preserve food for longer passages by vacuum-packing meat, as well as fish caught on the way. We’d store them in the fridge.

Diving Gear

As part of the preparations for our first voyage, I completed a British Sub-Aqua Club diving course and qualified as a diver. I realized that diving gear would be an essential item to have on board, and I had a complete set on each of my boats, with a compressor on Aventura II. A dry suit on Aventuras III and IV proved its usefulness when I had to dive in Arctic waters. We also had survival suits that we used only once, after crash-landing through the breakers on the beach below the old Cape Horn lighthouse.

The diving gear and tanks were mainly for emergencies, as I was quite a proficient free diver. I spent hours spearfishing to feed the family on our first voyage, but abandoned the sport when protecting the environment became a major concern. I continued fishing on passage, and we always caught enough fish to ensure a supply of fresh food for the crew.

Perhaps the most important item on board is the liferaft. Because it is rarely used, it is often stowed in a location that’s far from ideal. A golden rule about the liferaft is that the weakest member of the crew should be able to handle and launch it. On all my boats from Aventura II onward, the liferaft was always at the stern for easy launch.

Day Tank

All my boats up to Aventura IV had a 10.5-gallon tank mounted about 3 feet higher than the engine so the fuel was gravity-fed to it. We topped up the tank every four or five hours by manually activating a fuel transfer pump. I deliberately avoided having an automatic filling system, and instead placed the switch for the pump where it was easy to see the glass water separator and make sure the fuel was clean.

Apart from that pre-filter, there were two more filters before the fuel reached the engine. Another advantage of a day tank was that we always knew we had 10.5 gallons of fuel, even if the main tank was empty.

Mast Steps

Another useful item that can make life easier is mast steps.

They were a great bonus when we were scouting ahead, either when we were looking for a lead through the ice in the Arctic or avoiding coral heads in a tropical lagoon. These tasks became much easier when we acquired the first forward-looking sonar, but we continued to play it safe with my wife, Gwenda, keeping an eye on the depth and obstructions ahead on the cockpit-mounted forward-looking sonar. I would still do my eyeball navigation from the spreaders.

Aventura III’s mast steps probably saved our mast when one of the spreaders collapsed on the way to the Falklands. My crew was able to climb the mast quickly, retrieve the spreader, and then secure the rig with a spare spinnaker halyard.

The mast steps were also useful when it was time to check the rigging or the instruments at the top of the mast. Most of the time, we used them to climb up the mast to take photos.

Aventura IV’s Parasailor spinnaker was my favorite downwind sail, and it took me a long time to reach that high-tech level. My search for a functional downwind setup started with a twin-jib arrangement on the first Aventura. The system worked well and was easy to set up with two separate forestays. The only problem was the awful rolling, which I tried to dampen by having a storm trysail sheeted hard amidships on the mainsail track. It sort of worked, but I soon realized the solution might lie elsewhere.

A beautiful mizzen staysail, which Gwenda produced on her sewing machine, was perfect for broad reaching, usually in combination with the mainsail and poled-out genoa.

Aventura II’s first spinnaker turned me into an addict with sails that were asymmetrical and triradial, and then finally, the Parasailor. Each one played an essential role in the fast passages we achieved on our three following boats.

Shallow Draft and Centerboard

A fixed keel may be best for ocean passages, but having a shallow draft when cruising is ideal for exploring places that other boats cannot reach. It’s also safe because it lets the crew to find shelter in a protected spot in an emergency.

Aventura II’s lifting keel fulfilled both objectives, but it was only when Aventura III’s centerboard appeared on the scene that I finally had the perfect solution. It not only made it possible to reduce draft quickly, but it also improved our sailing performance.

I have often been asked how safe it is to sail on a boat without a keel. I have sailed twice across the Drake Passage to Antarctica and back, first on Skip Novak’s Pelagic and then on Aventura III. They both were centerboard boats. I once experienced winds of 50 to 60 knots, and I can vouch for either boat’s stability under such conditions. They coped impressively well with the high Southern Ocean swell, and they put any possible doubts to rest.

Aventura III and IV had an integral centerboard, which meant that when the board was raised, it fully retracted into the hull. The ballast-to-displacement ratio on each boat was 32, similar to most other cruising boats. Most integral centerboard boats have a flat bottom, so with the board fully up, they can dry out on a beach, which is yet another advantage.

In the words of Pete Goss, whose Pearl of Penzance was an Exploration 45 similar to Aventura IV: “A centerboard’s real advantage is not the ability to reduce the draft, but the peace of mind attribute. We were able to surf down Atlantic swells with the confidence of fixed ballast. Being able to lift the centerboard under such conditions meant that she didn’t trip up off the wind, and became directionally stable to the point of being docile. This, in turn, gave a more comfortable ride, de-stressed all areas of the boat, including the autopilot and power consumption.”

Shallow draft is a major attraction of centerboard yachts, but there are also some considerable performance advantages. The main role of the board is to provide lift when sailing closehauled, and to reduce leeway when reaching. With the board fully down, Aventura III drew 7 feet, 10 inches.  When sailed properly, it could point as high, or almost as high, as most keeled cruising boats. With a draft of 9 feet, 2 inches with the board down, Aventura IV performed even better than her predecessor. Aventura Zero had a draft of 2 feet, 11 inches with the two daggerboards raised, and 7 feet with them lowered.

There is a certain technique in sailing a centerboarder efficiently, not just on the wind, but off the wind as well. This is when the centerboard becomes a true asset thanks to the ability to lift the board gradually as the apparent wind goes past 135 degrees, and then continue lifting it up to the point where the board is fully retracted.

This is a great advantage, as the risk of broaching is virtually eliminated. As Goss pointed out, the absence of a keel to act as a pivot in a potential broaching situation means the boat does not tend to round up. It is a feature that has allowed me to continue keeping the spinnaker up longer than would normally have been safe. 

Fixed Pole

My favorite broad-reaching or running technique is to set up the pole independently of the sail I intend to use, so the pole is held firmly in position by the topping lift, forward and aft guys, with all three lines being led back to the cockpit. Regardless of whether I decide to pole out a foresail or spinnaker, the sheet is led through the jaws of the pole, which is then hoisted in the desired place.

Once the pole is in place and is held firmly by the three lines, the sail can be unfurled, or the spinnaker hoisted, and its douser pulled up. With the pole being independent of the sail, the latter can be furled partially or fully without touching the pole.

This setup is a great advantage when the sail has to be reduced or furled quickly, if a squall is threatening. Once the squall has passed, with the pole still in place, the sail can be easily unfurled.

When sailing under spinnaker and threatened by a squall, I preferred to douse it and lower it onto the foredeck. Once the danger passes, the spinnaker, while still in its sock, can be hoisted again and undoused.

My routine became so well tuned that I could hoist and douse the spinnaker on my own. The last time I did this was on a test sail with Aventura Zero off La Grande-Motte, France, the site of the Outremer Catamarans boatyard. I wanted to show my much younger crew how more brain and less brawn could tame a monster the size of a tennis court.

Parasailor

The major attraction of the Parasailor is that it acts as a classic triradial spinnaker and doubles as an asymmetrical sail. Its main features are the wide slot that runs from side to side about one-third down from the top, and a wing below the slot, on the forward side of the sail.

Once the Parasailor is up and poled out, the slot and wing help it stay full even in light winds. I have used it on a few occasions in as little as 5 knots of true wind, and every time, it looked like collapsing the backpressure exerted by the slot kept it full.

It is in strong winds, however, that the Parasailor comes into its own. Normally, I drop the spinnaker when the true wind reaches 15 knots. On one occasion, on the way from New Zealand to New Caledonia on Aventura III, when I saw a squall approaching, I decided to leave it up and see what happened. From 15 knots, the wind went up and up and settled at 27 knots. Aventura took it all in stride, accelerated to 9, then 10 knots and then once, when it caught the right wave, surged to 14 knots.

The Parasailor behaved as normally as before, with the wing streaming ahead and the slot wide open, almost visibly spilling the wind.

Boom Brake

This was another useful feature on my boats, as it prevented major damage in an involuntary jibe, as I experienced on three separate occasions.

The most memorable one happened on the southbound passage from Greenland, after having abandoned the attempt to transit the Northwest Passage from east to west. All the crew had left us in Nuuk, except for my daughter Doina. The northwest winds with gusts over 40 produced some nasty seas while sailing across an area of banks with depths of 100 to 130 feet. We were broad-reaching with three reefs in the mainsail, no foresail, and the centerboard fully up, a combination I had used in similar conditions in the past. Aventura IV was taking it well, occasionally surfing at 10 to 12 knots.

Everything seemed to be under control until a large wave broke violently over us, throwing us into a jibe. The boom brake controlled the swing of the mainsail, but when I reset the autopilot back on course, Doina pointed to the boom, which was hanging down at a strange angle. The gooseneck fitting was broken, but the boom was still held up by the mainsail and reefing lines. Apart from the broken casting, the boom itself was undamaged.

I secured the boom with two lines to the mast winches, and we continued sailing like that. We completed the 1,100-mile passage to St. John’s in Newfoundland in seven days without any further problems. A local workshop manufactured a new fitting, this time machined of solid aluminium.

Sailing in strong winds with just the mainsail is something I discovered by chance while crossing the Bay of Biscay along the west coasts of France and Spain on Aventura II’s maiden voyage. With the northerly wind gradually increasing, I tried to furl the mainsail into the mast, but the furling gear jammed and wouldn’t budge. The only options were to put a knife to the expensive sail, something I was reluctant to do, or continue sailing like that.

Sailing with a full mainsail and no jib in winds often gusting over 30 knots was certainly exhilarating. We made it safely into Lisbon, Portugal, where the fault was diagnosed at the top end of the furling gear, which was easily fixed. It never happened again.

Another adrenaline-spiked passage was across the Tasman Sea from Fiji to New Zealand on Aventura III. A low caught up with us, bringing favorable but increasingly strong northwest winds. Because of the uncomfortable swell, Gwenda spent much of the time in her bunk. Earlier in the trip, when the winds were lighter, I had left the steering to the windvane, but when the wind got stronger and there was a risk of jibing, I preferred to put my trust in the autopilot. The worst drawback of a full-batten mainsail is the difficulty of dropping it, even in moderate following winds, as the sail is pushed against the spreaders and the battens tend to get caught in the rigging. Usually, I prefer to keep the full mainsail as long as possible, but when the wind gets over 30 knots, I furl up the foresail and continue sailing with the deeply reefed mainsail.

This may sound like a rather unusual way of sailing, and it may not suit some boats, but Aventura coped well with it, and I got used to it.

Every now and again, I disengaged the autopilot and steered for a few minutes, enjoying the boat surfing down the waves with the speedometer rarely going below 10 knots. At one point, Gwenda put her head through the hatch and, as she later told me, saw me standing at the wheel with a huge grin on my face.

“You are absolutely crazy,” was all she said before going back to her bunk. She repeated those words more colorfully later, when the weather had calmed down. 

Essential Backups

The dual steering system on the first Aventura taught me the importance of having backups for all essential items. We always had two tenders: a smaller and a larger inflatable dinghy. The former could be quickly inflated and was easy to row, while the latter was used on longer trips. On Aventura III, we had two outboard motors, a 5 hp and a 2.5 hp backup, which we always took with us when we went on longer forays in Antarctica and Alaska.

Communications followed the same pattern. Aventura II had Inmarsat C for text, and single sideband radio for voice. Aventura III had a similar system, with an Iridium satphone added later. Aventura IV had an Iridium Pilot broadband, which allowed us to download the daily ice charts for the Northwest Passage, and let us send and receiving large files and photographs. Aventura Zero had the more advanced Iridium Certus broadband. An Iridium satphone was an emergency backup on all recent boats and was an extremely useful, and cheaper, stand-in for the more sophisticated systems.

However, I believe that the most important backup to have, especially on a shorthanded boat, is a second automatic pilot. We didn’t have one on the first Aventura because they were not available in those days, but we had reliable Aries self-steering gear. I hate to look back now at the countless hours spent at the wheel when there was no wind, and we had to motor.

On Aventura II, we had both a Hydrovane gear and a small automatic pilot. Aventura III had a Windpilot self-steering gear, an automatic pilot and a backup tiller pilot. The latter proved its worth when the main unit broke on a passage from Hawaii to Alaska. As we crossed the North Pacific High, we were becalmed in thick fog and surrounded by lots of fishing trawlers. We had to keep watch permanently on radar while maintaining course.

Aventura IV had two entirely independent B&G autopilots, which we used intermittently to ensure that both were in working order. Aventura Zero had a sophisticated emergency backup with an entirely separate second autopilot. In case of a lightning strike, the system was entirely insulated from the rest of the boat. It included an autopilot processor, ram and rudder sensor, Triton display unit, GPS and wireless wind sensor. An emergency 1,200-Ah battery, charged by a Sail-Gen hydrogenerator or the solar panels, could supply electricity not only to the autopilot and backup instruments, but also to the service and propulsion batteries if necessary. It was the ultimate belt-and-suspenders concept, in line with my almost obsessive cautious mindset.

The system proved its worth in Seville, Spain, when the adjacent dock was struck by lightning. The charge travelled through the water and reached the propellers. It put the entire propulsion system out of order. But the boat’s electrics and electronic equipment, which were not connected to anything else on board, were not affected.

I have always considered myself to be a lucky person. After 200,000 miles, I believe that the saying “fortune favors the bold” should be followed by “provided it is backed by a strong sense of prudence.” 

The post The Art of Lateral Thinking Under Sail appeared first on Cruising World.

In my long and eventful sailing life, I have been in several emergency ­situations. In every case, I was able to deal with them. Fitting out the first Aventura myself taught me the importance of being self-sufficient, and ever since then, I have attempted to do all that is necessary to be prepared for the worst. One golden rule that I have learned is not to panic. Calm is crucial in an emergency situation. Take time to assess the situation, draw up a plan of action, and then act. As Mike Johnson, a former fighter-jet pilot and ­mountaineer, told me: “We use a simple acronym for most of our decision-making: DODAR.

Diagnose the problem, options available, decide on the most appropriate, act upon it, review how it is working. If necessary, return to Step 1. This might sound simplistic, but we have seen so many minor situations develop into disasters because people didn’t even begin at the first step.”

My first serious emergency happened while sailing from Puerto Rico to the Bahamas. We stopped at Grand Turk Island and decided to explore the nearby Ambergris Cay on the edge of the Caicos Banks. As we moved from the deep ­channel into the shallows, I could see an ­unobstructed way ahead, leading to an area of darker blue water. 

Then, a passing cloud obscured the sun, and the water ahead of us turned to quicksilver. I slowed down but came to a ­crunching halt on top of a massive coral head. Even with the engine on full power ahead, and then astern, we didn’t budge.

I donned my mask. Aventura’s keel was jammed in a deep coral cleft—amid some beautiful underwater scenery. I had dived in many attractive places, but this was beyond imagination. Fishes of all colors, shapes and sizes darted amid swaying coral fans. Spiny lobsters swept their antennae from their hidey-holes, while a Napoleon wrasse with thick lips glanced at me with a bored look. I had to grip the edge of the coral head to avoid being swept away by the strong current that had pushed us off course.

Back on board, I got a spare anchor, tied it to a halyard, and swam it some distance away in the hope of heeling Aventura over, to reduce draft and get out of the trap. It was to no avail. The keel was firmly gripped in the coral vice. A couple of hours later, a rising tide and a fortuitous swell lifted us up and into the sheltered waters behind the reef.  

Despite the battering, the strong fiberglass hull had suffered only a few scratches, but my self-confidence was severely dented. It took us all a long time to recover from that frightening experience.

Caught in the Net

Another incident occurred near the end of a passage from the Azores to Gibraltar. We had reasonable weather. As we passed Cape St. Vincent aboard Aventura II, I decided to have a short rest ahead of arrival—always a good idea before landfall after a long passage, to help clear the mind. Before going below, I told my two crew to call me if they saw anything of concern.

I was awakened by a loud knock, followed by a grinding noise. I jumped into the cockpit and grabbed a flashing light. I knew immediately that we had run into one of those gigantic tuna nets that Spanish fishermen set in that area. Over the side, I could see a thick cable with a heavy net hanging from it. 

Quickly, I raised the retractable keel to prevent entanglement. I also prepared my powerful cable cutters. I then called the nearest shore station to explain our ­predicament. I said that if help was not forthcoming, I would cut the cable.

“Don’t do that! Please, don’t do that!” a voice screamed in Spanish. “Wait. We are coming immediately.”

Soon afterward, a fishing boat raced ­toward us at full speed. The helmsman ­signaled us to follow him. He positioned his own keel over the cable to lower it. With Aventura’s keel retracted, we managed to get across both the cable and net. The boat guided us to a gate in the net a couple of miles away, and we were free. 

What had saved us was the best tool in my kit: my ability to speak Spanish.

My crew had broken one of my most important rules: to inform the skipper immediately if they saw anything suspicious. They told me later that they had seen the flashing light, but because it was faint, they had estimated it to be much farther away.

Hiss, Rumble, Crack

While on passage from Reunion to South Africa with a Finnish friend, we ­encountered bad weather off the southern tip of Madagascar. During my night watch, with the wind steady at 35 knots and our speed never going below 9 knots, the pattern of the waves changed. The swell started to look menacing. I had seen higher waves in the Southern Ocean while returning from Antarctica to Cape Horn, but I was not expecting to see anything as bad in these waters. 

Earlier that evening, there had been a warning on Inmarsat C that a ship had seen several large logs afloat. The threat of colliding with one of them was at the back of my mind as I savored the thrill of seeing 12.5 knots on the speedometer. 

While surfing down a big wave, above the hiss and rumble, I heard a loud noise. The boat pulled out of its slide, and a ­louder noise came from the direction of the ­steering. Almost instantly, the ­movement of the boat changed. I suspected the ­autopilot had gone off. I disengaged it and grabbed the wheel—which felt heavy and unresponsive.

I lifted the cockpit grating and saw that the 12 mm bolt joining the hydraulic ­autopilot ram to the rudder quadrant had sheared. The steering also appeared to be faulty, so I hove-to. I lowered the centerboard; it had been raised while we were broad-reaching. As we were sailing under a reefed mainsail and staysail, I hauled in both sheets and turned in to the wind.

Hove-to, with the wheel lashed to windward, Aventura was close-reaching slowly into the large swell. I found a replacement bolt and replaced the broken one, and then brought the boat back on course, still wondering why it was so hard to steer. I ­reengaged the autopilot. 

Only then did it occur to me to check the rudder hydraulics. I tried to pump down the rudder, but it felt dead. If the valve controlling the rudder or centerboard was not left in the open position, and one or the other had hit something, then the resulting pressure would have blown a sacrificial copper disc that opened the hydraulic circuit. 

I had spare discs taped to the hydraulic pump in a plastic bag just for this eventuality, so it took me only a couple of minutes to replace the sacrificial disc. Then I realized that we may have hit one of those logs. Whatever it was, the boat had ridden over it, and it had hit the rudder. 

The rudder had two parts. The upper part was fixed, and the lower part could swing up for beaching the boat. Thanks to its design, the rudder had absorbed the shock without suffering any apparent damage. One year later, when the boat was hauled out, I noticed a suspicious crack in the main rudder body. It could have been a consequence, but it must have been a violent collision to crack the massive aluminum plate.

An Alarm and a Hole

Another time, in Croatia, my wife, Gwenda, and I had been joined by our daughter Doina and her children, Nera and Dan, for a summer cruise. We were motoring down the Krka River after visiting the ­spectacular waterfalls.

The engine-temperature alarm sounded. I switched off the engine, which had overheated. Being on a river, I suspected that we had picked up some weeds or debris, but when I checked the seawater trap, I noticed a lot of water in the engine bilge.

I dropped the anchor right there in the middle of the river, in the way of numerous excursion boats. When I lifted the floorboards in the aft cabin to look at the back of the engine, I smelled exhaust fumes. The plastic manifold heat exchanger had a large hole in its side. Exhaust and cooling water had escaped.

Gwenda tried to notify passing ­excursion boats that we had not anchored there for afternoon tea. I got a tube of underwater epoxy, rolled and mixed the two components, and covered the hole. We waited one hour for it to set, and then turned the key. The engine started and ran happily.

It was a minor problem, but it could have had serious consequences. Doina, Nera and Dan slept in the aft cabin. If this problem had happened at night, they could have been overcome by carbon monoxide. The thought still makes me shudder.

A Dangerous Tangle

After weather forced us to abandon an attempt of transiting the Northwest Passage, we turned to sail back to Greenland. Gale-force winds were forecast for the following day, so we motored fast through Lancaster Sound toward the open sea. 

During Doina’s watch, I was awakened by a loud noise from the engine. I rushed into the cockpit and stopped the engine, which was rattling. It sounded like we had picked up something on the propeller. 

I strapped a GoPro camera with an underwater housing to the end of an ice pole, lowered it over the side, and managed to get a good view of the propeller. A thick, black rope was wound around it, with its end trailing behind. Even worse, the bolts between the propeller shaft and ­transmission had sheared. 

The rope had been strong enough to ­immobilize the propeller shaft and rip it off its mounts. With much drifting ice, as well as large icebergs still about, we needed to be able to use the engine. We had 1,000 miles to go to Nuuk.

With the imminent gale, we reefed down and continued sailing until we had consistent winds of more than 35 knots. We hove-to with three reefs in the mainsail and most of the staysail rolled in, and we easily rode out the gale. After a dozen hours, the wind started going down and I could work on the engine. 

I had no spare bolts on board, but I found some longer bolts and cut them down to size with the electric angle grinder. I retrieved the sheared-off bolts from the bilge and recuperated their nuts. Hanging upside down over the back of the engine, I managed to pull back the propeller shaft sufficiently to reconnect it to the transmission.

It was now time to deal with the rope itself. I could turn the propeller shaft by hand, and it felt as if it were free, but I dared not start the engine and put it in gear. I donned my drysuit and kitted myself out for the ice-cold water. I figured that the job would take only a few minutes, so I didn’t wear an air tank.

Attached to the boat with a safety line, I cut off some of the rope and freed the propeller. Then I summoned superhuman strength to get out of the water while wearing lead weights, with the boat bouncing ­violently in the rough swell. My hood was not dry, and I could feel the cold water getting to my head. I knew that I had only about one minute before serious ­hypothermia would set in.

It was the sight of Doina standing helplessly above me that gave me the strength to lie on my back and lift my feet one by one out of the water. She reached down and pulled off my fins. I then managed to put my foot on the lowest rung of the boarding ladder, and she helped me onto the stern platform. I dropped, exhausted, into the cockpit, and Doina later told me that I sounded incoherent.

When I had recovered, I started the ­engine and put it in forward gear, but I kept it at slow revs. I checked the propeller with the underwater camera and could see it turning freely, with the end of the rope trailing harmlessly behind. After half an hour of motoring, I checked the bolts, and they were tight. 

Eight days later, we were in Nuuk, where I donned my drysuit—this time with an air tank—in the calm water. Some of the line was waving idly in the current. I cut it off with a serrated knife, but the rest had fused to the propeller shaft. That job had to wait until Aventura could be hauled out at a boatyard in Newport, Rhode Island, some 3,500 miles from where the incident had happened.

Nasty Weather

In all my years of sailing, I have experienced sustained winds over 50 knots on ­only a half-dozen occasions. I always left the tropics to avoid the hurricane and ­cyclone seasons, but I took a calculated risk in high latitudes, where we were prepared for the heavy weather we encountered. Even in these days of climate change, extreme conditions are still rare during the safe seasons on the commonly traveled cruising routes.

My first experience of bad weather happened on the first Aventura, while anchored in Bora Bora Lagoon with another dozen yachts. In the middle of the night, a passing depression reversed the prevailing southeast winds into a strong west wind that put us all on a lee shore. 

Panic and havoc were all around us. The only way out was to pick up the anchor and move to a more sheltered place. I started the engine and powered ahead.

It was impossible to raise the dug-in anchor, so we dragged it slowly until we reached a derelict dock in the next bay. We survived the rest of the night and returned to the anchorage in the morning. Several boats had been blown onshore and were damaged. At least one was a total loss.  

We were the only boat to have left the anchorage. It was an extremely valuable lesson. From then on, whenever I had any doubts about an anchorage, at the first sign of a change in weather, I would pick up the anchor and go into the open sea. The one place where I didn’t do that was in Arctic Canada, in Dundas Harbour with a half-dozen other boats. We were caught by a violent storm that peaked at more than 60 knots, but fortunately, we were ­well-anchored and survived the 28-hour ordeal.

Onward

Having been a monohull owner for more than 40 years, I had doubts about the vulnerability of my catamaran Aventura Zero in heavy weather. I did take that factor into account when I ordered the Outremer 45, and, to put my mind at rest, I was sincerely hoping that we would encounter some bad weather on our maiden voyage. 

My weird wish came true not once, but three times, with winds of 40 knots and gusts of 50 knots. It happened on the return passage from Tenerife, Spain, to France while passing Ibiza in the Balearic Isles. It was a proper Mediterranean winter storm, with winds in the high 30s and a swell to match. 

Everything was going well, although we were sailing too fast for my taste. We put the third reef in the mainsail and rolled in the Solent to one-third of its surface. When the winds started hitting the 40s, we dropped the mainsail completely.

We continued broad-reaching. To my ­utter amazement, but also relief, Aventura was as stable as a table. This is the ­description I put in my logbook: “The boat was taking the high swell in its stride, surfing at 12 to 14 knots, peaking once at 18.4 knots.”  

Even at that speed, there was no sign of a lack of stability. On the contrary, I went out on several occasions and was amazed by the enormous wake streaking out behind us. 

It was an exhilarating experience, and my doubts were definitely put to rest. Other catamarans may have behaved differently, but I can vouch for the seaworthiness of my latest Aventura. 

The post How to Stay Calm and Survive Onboard Emergencies at Sea appeared first on Cruising World.

In recent years, voyages to high-latitude destinations have surged in popularity, drawing adventurous sailors to some of the most remote and challenging waters on Earth. Among these, the Northwest Passage in the Arctic and the Antarctic Peninsula have seen record-breaking numbers of visiting yachts, with 2024 marking an all-time high.

To celebrate the 40th anniversary of the ARC transatlantic rally, legendary sailor and event founder Jimmy Cornell (Cornell Sailing) has unveiled the High Latitude Challenge, a unique opportunity for sailors eager to explore these extraordinary regions. Designed for those who seek camaraderie and adventure, the event offers a chance to join like-minded mariners on an unforgettable voyage spanning Antarctica and the Northwest Passage.

Jimmy Cornell, who has personally sailed to both destinations twice, meticulously planned the route to capitalize on favorable wind and weather patterns, as well as safe seasonal windows. The event aligns with optimal sailing times—Antarctica’s summer months (January–February) and the Arctic’s brief navigable window (July–August)—while also steering clear of tropical storm seasons in both hemispheres.

The Challenge’s innovative clockwise route kicks off in September 2026 from Cherbourg, France, ensuring favorable conditions throughout the journey. Participants will find logistical and service support at key hubs, including Mar del Plata in Argentina and Honolulu in Hawaii, which offer marina facilities, yacht clubs, boatyards, and workshops associated with the event.

The High Latitude Challenge operates as a rolling event, allowing participants to join and complete the route at any point. Recommended meeting points include Ushuaia, Argentina, for the leg across the Drake Passage to Antarctica, and Dutch Harbor, Alaska, for the Northwest Passage transit.

Sailors from the U.S. East Coast can begin their journey earlier from Newport, Rhode Island, joining the main fleet in Cherbourg. Meanwhile, the event’s 2027 expansion invites participants from the U.S. West Coast, Australia, New Zealand, China, Japan, and beyond to join at Honolulu or Dutch Harbor.

Adventurers eager to participate can express their interest by emailing info@cornellsailing.com with “Challenge” as the subject line. Eligible participants will receive a form to complete their registration process.

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Author, sailor and event organizer Jimmy Cornell has just launched his latest expedition sailboat, this time a fully electric Outremer 4X called Elcano 500, and next month he plans to set off from Seville, Spain, to celebrate and follow the route of the first circumnavigation, completed in 1522 by the Spanish sailor Juan Sebastian Elcano.

Elcano set off from Seville in 1519 with Ferdinand Magellan, taking command of the expedition when Magellan was killed in the Philippines, and completing the round-the-world voyage the following year.

Cornell is calling his latest adventure the Elcano Project. The boat’s name, besides paying homage to the first circumnavigator, is a play on “Electricity. Carbon. No!” The voyage will follow the original course, stopping in Tenerife, Rio de Janeiro, Montevideo, Puerto Julian and passing through the Magellan Strait. From there, Elcano will set off across the Pacific, visiting Puka Puka in the Cook Islands, Guam, and the Philippines, including the island of Mactan, where Magellan was killed. From there, Elcano will visit several other Pacific islands, cross the South Indian Ocean, round the Cape of Good Hope and return to Seville. The 30,000-mile voyage is expected to take less than a year.

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After spending three delightful seasons in the Mediterranean on La Mischief, our Lagoon 421 catamaran, I finally convinced my partner, DeAnne, to leave with the promise that we’d be back one day if we just kept going west. So we plotted our escape route from Cyprus through the Strait of Gibraltar and out into the Atlantic. Our planning got a huge boost when I discovered Jimmy Cornell‘s Barbados 50 Rally, which started from London and finished in Barbados just as celebrations were kicking off for the island’s 50th anniversary of independence, would be making the crossing at the same time. DeAnne and I signed up to join the rally in the Canary Islands, and we left Algeciras, Spain, with our friends Phil Hearps and Megan Wood on board. Along the way, we cruised the Moroccan coast to take in the delights of Casablanca, Marrakesh and Agadir before making the 225-nautical-mile passage to Lanzarote in the Canaries, ­ where Megan said her goodbyes.

For the next four weeks, La Mischief sailed to all the Canary Islands, enjoyed the spectacular scenery and hospitality of the locals, and got to know the crews of the other 35 rally boats as well as Cornell and his staff. Then it was time to head south to the islands of Cabo Verde.

The 780-nautical-mile trip down from the Canaries to Mindelo, Cabo Verde, was both frustrating and exhilarating. Frustrating because of the amount of motoring we had to do, but with an exhilarating sail at the end once we hit the trades and spent two straight days under spinnaker.

La Mischief reached Mindelo after five days and checked into Cabo Verde’s only marina, where we joined the other rally boats. Our two friends Sten Strom and Rita Matthews flew into Mindelo to accompany us on what was to be the first-ever organized cruising rally around Cabo Verde, before coming with us across the Atlantic to Barbados.

We instantly fell in love with Mindelo, on the island of São Vicente, with its vibrant and unique music scene, colorful buildings from colonial days past and its overwhelmingly happy and friendly people. A highlight was the welcome party put on by Marina Mindelo, where a drumming band met us on the piers and marched us down to a marquee complete with dancers, food, beer, wine and the local rum. I could have sworn that we were already in the Caribbean.

La Mischief‘s crew spent a delightful week in Mindelo, which included a fascinating tour of the island organized by the rally, swimming at the beautiful white-sand town beach and visits to quite a few of the excellent restaurants, each with live music playing. Toward the end of our stay at the marina, we stopped at the local fruit and vegetable markets, as well as the two or three supermarkets, where you could purchase enough to get by. I was, however, thankful that we had done most of our provisioning in the big supermarkets in the Canaries.

Lutz Meyer-Scheel, who is a co-owner of the marina, had been working hard with Cornell Sailing to put together our cruise of the islands. Because some of the anchorages and ports were too small for 35 boats, the rally split into two fleets. Meyer-Scheel’s local sailing knowledge was invaluable, and the night before Fleet 1 left, he gave us a useful skippers briefing on what we were all about to see and experience.

Our first stop was Tarrafal on the island of Santo Antão, 23 nautical miles away. La Mischief left the marina at about 1100 and had a great reach doing 7 knots until we got to the lee of Santo Antão, where the wind dropped to nothing. We motored around to the southwest corner and dropped anchor in about 50 feet of water. The anchorage was small but spectacular, with huge cliffs plummeting down to a large black-sand beach. The town of Tarrafal was a short dinghy ride away, albeit with an interesting surf landing that took us a while to perfect.

The next day, the crew relaxed and swam off the back of the boat, explored the town and its surroundings, and socialized with the other rally yachts. Several crews arranged a lobster dinner at the local restaurant, and it didn’t disappoint, with three huge lobster halves for each person, accompanied by plenty of fresh vegetables, all washed down with the local beer. Scrumptious! And Sten, Phil and I managed to launch off the beach that night without getting wet. Bonus.

The next morning, we were up early and off to Brava, 120 nautical miles away. The fleet was looking forward to a downhill run, but that unfortunately didn’t materialize. The best La Mischief could do was to pull out the gennaker for a few hours. Since there were thunderstorms around, we put it away at dark and had a wonderful sail under main and jib right up to midnight, when the squalls hit and the wind turned southerly. The rest of the night was slow-going as we bashed into the wind and waves, using the radar to pick our way through the lightning storms.

It was certainly worth the effort because the anchorage at Fajã d’Agua turned out to be one of our favorites. La Mischief finally arrived at 1100, and was greeted by a huge pod of dolphins as we lowered sails and motored into the harbor. We dropped the hook at the northern end of the very protected bay, where we found good holding in 30 to 50 feet of water. Some of the other yachts anchored in the southern part of the bay and had to contend with large boulders on the seabed.

Luc Callebaut from Cornell Sailing was brilliant at organizing activities for us; on the first full day our fleet was on Brava, we put on our hiking shoes and followed a guide on a fantastic walk up the valley. Three hours later, after snapping many spectacular photos looking down the valley to the boats, our hiking group made it to a small village. There, we hopped on a bus to take us to the largest town on the island to do some shopping, before returning along a very interesting road cut into the cliffs. By then we were all very hungry, and we sat down for an enjoyable late lunch at Anna’s restaurant on the waterfront.

The next morning, several of us squeezed in a short island tour with Carlos, who drove us around and showed us life on the island together with some sensational scenery. It was really good to hang out with Carlos, who seemed to know every one of the 5,000 inhabitants on the island, many of whom spoke with U.S. East Coast accents, from having worked and lived there before returning home to Brava.

Back on La Mischief, we raised the sails and headed off to Fogo. There was a bit of tacking involved in getting around the top of Brava, but once clear of the island, we had a wonderfully fast 20-mile sail across to Fogo.

Fogo, which is Portuguese for fire, sports a single classic volcanic cone. At 9,281 feet high, Pico do Fogo is the second-tallest volcano in the Atlantic, after El Teide on the island of Tenerife.

Our rally had organized for us to tie up against the two harbor walls; we’d timed our arrival and departure to ensure no ships or ferries would be there. The harbor wall, with its large rubber bollards sticking out, was designed to accommodate ships, not yachts, and the fleet spent two uncomfortable nights there, resulting in lots of chafing and wrecked fenders.

Still, it was worth the hassle and sleepless nights because the island of Fogo is exceptional. The whole fleet went on a full-day island tour, the highlight of which was a visit to the crater at the top of the volcano. We had lunch at the winery inside the crater and sampled the famous Fogo wine and coffee, straight from the highest place on the planet where these two crops grow. After lunch, we visited one of the spots the caldera inhabitants were evacuated to after the last eruption, and the Barbados 50 Rally donated many bags of clothing, towels and toiletries to the children of the village.

The next morning, the crews were up early and off to the island of Santiago, heading for yet another town named Tarrafal on the west coast of the island. This time, the wind gods were not on our side, and the 55-nautical-mile leg took us all day and a bit more, making our arrival just after nightfall. Rob from BnG, one of our fellow rally boats, kindly guided us into the anchorage, and we dropped the hook in about 50 feet. We spent the following day walking through Serra da Malagueta Natural Park, eating lunch at a beautiful beachside restaurant and checking out Praia, the capital of Cabo Verde, before returning back to our anchorage.

Our next leg was a night sail, so we spent the day leading up to it at Tarrafal, swimming off the back of La Mischief, as well as at the lovely town beach. Our crew stocked up on a few items at the local supermarket and the excellent produce market (and we might have even been spotted frequenting a local beach bar).

We were really looking forward to the next anchorage on the island of São Nicolau, 86 nautical miles away to the north. We left Tarrafal at 1700 and made good time on a tight reach — so much so that we deliberately slowed down the boat to make sure we reached our anchorage in daylight. As we rounded the bottom of São Nicolau, we were delighted to see pods of pilot whales all around us.

Meyer-Scheel had recommended that we anchor off a beautiful sandy beach, about a mile or so south of yet another town called Tarrafal, and it turned out to be a far nicer anchorage than the one at Tarrafal itself. It’s the nicest anchorage in São Nicolau — some say the nicest in the whole of Cabo Verde. And who am I to argue? It has a beautiful sandy bottom with great holding where you can clearly see your anchor in 15 to 25 feet of water, a delightful protected beach and great snorkeling. To top it off, there’s a nice hike into Tarrafal around a rough path.

It was the rally’s last stop before returning to Mindelo, so many crews opted to spend a bit more time here on anchor rather than in the marina at Mindelo. However, the crew on La Mischief was enjoying cruising all the islands and wanted to do one more. We chose Santa Luzia, which was halfway back to Mindelo. We anchored there at Praia do Palmo a Tostão off a long white-sand beach in 22 feet of water, along with a couple of other rally boats. Later, we found out from the marina staff that the island is now a nature reserve and anchoring is prohibited, something our cruising guide failed to point out.

In no time at all, La Mischief was back in the marina at Mindelo, where we completed our final preparations for our 2,020-nautical-mile trip across the Atlantic to Barbados.

The post Sailing Cabo Verde appeared first on Cruising World.

Unlike other rallies, Odyssey crews will be participating in meteorological and oceanographic studies by collecting and transmitting data during their travels. In amongst other preparations this week, Monday’s big event was a NOAA seminar presentation giving the boats the scientific instruments they’ll deploy as they cross the Pacific Ocean.  All the boats are scurrying to find a place to stow the scientific instruments.

Learn more about the Blue Planet Odyssey and track the progress of the boats at http://cornellsailing.com/sail-the-odyssey/blue-planet-odyssey/

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The post Countdown to the Blue Planet Odyssey Rally! appeared first on Cruising World.

World cruiser, rally organizer and author Jimmy Cornell is a step closer to becoming an active participant in his upcoming Blue Planet Odyssey.

Cornell recently visited the Garcia boatyard in Condé-sur-Noireau, a small village in Central Normandy, France, where the aluminum frame for Aventura IV is being welded together. Garcia Yachting is part of the Grand Large Yachting Group, which also builds Outremer catamarans and Allures yachts.

Cornell plans a launch date of April 2014, and, if all goes well, to sail Aventura IV with the participants of the Blue Planet Odyssey who transit the Northwest Passage. The fleet of boats, with various departure points in Europe and North America, among others, will come together in the Pacific Ocean.

You can follow the construction of Aventura IV and learn more about the rally, as well as a Long Distance Cruising Seminar that Cornell has planned for Oct. 13 and 14 in Linthicium, Maryland (near the U.S. Sailboat Show in Annapolis) at Cornell Sailing. You can also catch Cornell during the U.S. Sailboat Show as part of the Cruising World Seminar Series, sponsored by B&G.

The post A New Aventura Takes Shape appeared first on Cruising World.

Blue Planet Odyssey route map

Cruising World:_ Jimmy, the Blue Planet Odyssey is a fairly ambitious undertaking, with multiple routes, departure points from the various continents, and lots of logistics around the globe. Where did the idea come from to begin with?_

Jimmy Cornell: The idea is not new at all.In 1997-98 I ran the Expo 98 round the world rally which carried around the world the message of the Expo 98 global exhibition: “The oceans, a heritage for the future.” Unfortunately 15 years later that future has caught up with us, the oceans are in a much worse state than ever, so that message is even more timely and people need to be reminded – and even more urgently now – that it is the oceans that mankind’s survival depends on.

So the aim of the Blue Planet Odyssey is to raise awareness of the effects of climate change especially on the oceans, something that sailors understand better than anyone else. Climate change is a global phenomenon, and therefore the Blue Planet Odyssey must reflect this by being itself a global event, both as far as its routes are concerned and also by having scheduled starts in every continent. There will be a southern route, which will stay mostly within the tropics and call at some of the most endangered island communities in every ocean. We shall also sail a northern route via the Northwest Passage, which after all has only become navigable as a result of climate change.

CW:_ How big an organization is going to be required to coordinate all this?_

JC: The running of the Blue Planet Odyssey is based on that of the Millennium Odyssey, which had a similar global reach and also sailed a warm water as well as cold water route to Antarctica as at that time the Northwest Passage was yet not considered safe to navigate. In this initial phase we already have a core team of nine people as well as regional national coordinators. With registrations pouring in from all over the world (we already have 40 boat owners who have expressed an interest in taking part) we may soon be forced to limit the number of participants.

As to the complexity of running such an event, I am confident that we shall be able to cope with it well. After all, since launching the first ARC in 1986, I have been personally involved in running two dozen transatlantic rallies, also five round the world sailing events. We are also fortunate in having a number of talented people on our team which also includes John Ellis, who was the Event Director of the Millennium Odyssey as well as other round the world events, and also my daughter, Doina Cornell, whose been involved with this kind of event ever since the highly successful America 500 quincentennial event in 1992.

CW: In your discussions involving the rally and in conversations we had during the release of your Ocean Atlas_, you’ve pointed to changing climate conditions that affect our oceans. What have been some of your observations?_

JC: On my second voyage to Antarctica I was shocked to see that within the short span of only three years since my previous visit, several glaciers had considerably retreated and where before there was a field of blue-white ice, now there was a bank of lichens of a color rarely seen in Antarctica before: green.

But is was the disastrous effects of several natural phenomena which struck in quick succession recently: superstorm Sandy’s path of destruction from Haiti to the U.S. East Coast, unprecedented floods in the United Kingdom, the galloping coastal erosion in low-lying countries like Bangladesh, not to speak of the recently released NASA photos of an accelerating shrinking of the Arctic icecap, which was the final trigger that made me launch this, the most ambitious but also most relevant, of any project that I have ever been involved with.****

There is however also an important personal motivation that made me decide to put retirement on hold and, as it were, take on the world: The start of the Blue Planet Odyssey will mark 40 years of my cruising life. My first Aventura was launched in London on 20 July 1974 and the Blue Planet Odyssey will start from London on 20 July 2014. During these four wonderful decades, I have not only realized my childhood dream of sailing the oceans, but have also managed to combine it with my professional life, as a journalist, writer, and event organizer. I have sailed to some of the remotest parts of the globe and have been privileged to encounter some of the most isolated communities. More than anything else, for me the Blue Planet Odyssey will be payback time. I want to show my gratitude to those people all over the world who have welcomed me and countless other sailors with warmth, friendship, and generosity. As this odyssey calls at places where people’s lives are affected already by climate change, we want them to know that cruising sailors care for them and share their concerns for the future.

CW: Describe how this rally will be similar to, but also different from, some of the other events you’ve organized.

JC: It will be similar to the Millennium Odyssey, which was also a global event with a specific purpose. Once again we shall have separate starts and two different routes, just as was the case with the Millennium Odyssey.

The main difference is that with the Blue Planet Odyssey, participants will have the opportunity to be directly involved in community projects in the places visited as well as in scientific research programs while under way. The Blue Planet Odyssey is not another round the world event run primarily for the benefit of its participants, in other words, a rather hedonistic exercise, but it is a sailing event with a purpose, a higher altruistic purpose. And I was both impressed and touched that among the sailors who have registered their interest in taking part three quarters stated clearly that they want to sail in the Blue Planet Odyssey because they themselves want to do something for the future of our planet.

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CW: With so many different jumping off points and possible routes, are there times and points during the journey when all the fleet will come together?

JC: Indeed there are. The first will be in the Eastern Caribbean, where boats that had started from Europe, the U.S. East Coast, Cape Town, and Rio de Janeiro will come together for the first time and will be joined later in Panama by those that started from Miami. Tahiti will be the place where the main route will be joined by boats which started from the U.S. or Canadian west coast. The major point of concentration will be Singapore, where the northern and southern routes will merge.

CW: Speaking of the fleet, how many sailboats do you think will participate?

JC: Initially we were aiming at 40 to 50, but from the response so far there seem to be so many sailors that identify with the aims of the Blue Planet Odyssey, that we shall have to find a way of accommodating a much larger number.

_CW: I know this is being organized as an around-the-world event, but are there shorter circles voyagers can take? _

JC: Because there is such an interest from sailors that wish to sail the entire route, I doubt if we shall be able to accommodate shorter options. However, there may be a very attractive option once we reach the Mediterranean but that has yet to be confirmed.

CW: This being a year and a half before the first sail’s raised, what do you envision will be some of the standout events during the rally?

Undoubtedly calling at some of the endangered islands, some of which happen to be rarely visited, such as Tokelau or the Andamans. For the northern route it will probably be the transit of the Northwest Passage.

CW: Let’s talk about specifics for a minute, what sort of services will Odyssey organizers be providing to participants? Will there be safety guidelines? Route planning? Weather services? Help with clearing in and out of the various countries?

JC: A whole range of logistical support and services: free port, marina, and docking charges at each scheduled start and finish, transit and agents fees for the Panama and Suez Canals, the cost of cruising permits, light dues, and other charges such as overtime and other fees payable to customs, immigration, and quarantine officials when clearing in or out of scheduled ports. There will be routing and weather information for each leg as well as tracking of the individual boats, and their location being shown in real time on our website. As on previous occasions, there will be welcome and prize-giving parties, and various social activities in the scheduled ports. In the run up to the start there will be preparatory seminars for participants as well as personal briefings at all major boat shows.

CW: For those who choose some of the more challenging routes, I’m thinking of the Northwest Passage, for example, what will be the role of the organizers?

JC: Participants who intend to sail that route will be briefed on all safety aspects, as their boats need to be thoroughly equipped, and will be inspected that they confirm with the safety requirements. With safety being uppermost in our mind, we shall ensure that we have plenty of time for the transit itself as in that part of the world being able to wait for favorable conditions is absolutely essential. We shall therefore have access to the latest weather information and are also being advised by other sailors who have transited in recent years.

CW: Speaking of the Northwest Passage, what happens if current trends reverse and the passage remains ice blocked?

JC: The 2014 Northwest Passage timing has been scheduled in such a way that if conditions in summer and early autumn for a transit of the Northwest Passage are considered to be unfavorable or dangerous, the timing will allow for the route to be amended so that participants will be able to sail south from Iceland and Southern Greenland to the U.S. East Coast. They will then have the choice of joining the New York or Miami starts that will merge with the main route in either the Eastern Caribbean or Panama.

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CW: Will catamarans and composite (i.e. fiberglass) boats allowed on the Northwest Passage leg?

JC: We have spoken to a leading catamaran boat builder who has expressed his concern at the risk posed to composite hulls by needle ice, a feature of melting bergs. Some participants are having their hulls reinforced in the bows and along other critical areas. We are treating each case individually before we decide whether to allow a boat to tackle that route or not. So far we have had no interest from catamaran oweners. As to the building material itself, of course it would be preferable for it to be metal, but we do not intend to object to composite hulls as such, provided they are well built, and the owner is fully aware of the risk involved. I must point out that we had two fiberglass boats sail with the Millennium Odyssey to Antarctica, where conditions are similar, and neither suffered more than superficial, cosmetic, damage.

CW: What are your plans for transiting some of the notable hotspots for piracy, particularly in the Indian Ocean?

JC: Bear in mind that there have been no incident involving cruising boats for the last year, and even attacks on commercial ships have virtually ceased in that area. But we are talking about sailing through that area more than three years in the future, and while we are obviously keeping that area under constant observation, any decision will need to be taken nearer the time. However, and not just in that part of the world, because of safety concerns, logistical or political considerations, some countries or stopover ports on the proposed route may have to be avoided and the route and schedule amended accordingly. The proposed route is planned to transit the North Indian Ocean to the Red Sea and Mediterranean but if the situation in that area is considered not to be safe, the route will be amended to reach the Atlantic Ocean by way of the Cape of Good Hope. There is also another fallback scenario but it would be premature to discuss or disclose its details now.

CW: What can participants expect to do at the various landfalls? Will there be organized events, or is the idea to have a more loosely organized schedule and let cruisers discover things on their own?

JC: There will be some of both. In certain areas, there will be free cruising periods between arrival in a scheduled port and departure from the next scheduled port.

CW: Of course everyone’s sailboats and lifestyles are different, but do you have a ballpark budget for what this Odyssey might cost the average husband and wife cruiser, with say a well-found 40- to 50-foot sailboat?

JC: The entry fee for a boat that size with a crew of two will be about $28,000.

CW: And what about your own plans? Weren’t you going to sail in the Blue Planet Odyssey yourself?

JC: Of course I would like to, and sail the Northwest Passage, ideally in a new boat… but let’s leave this for the moment as that could be the subject for another interview!

CW: Ultimately, what do you hope comes from the Blue Planet Odyssey?

JC: I hope that both us as organisers and those who sail in this unique event will have made at least a small contribution to raise awareness of the serious dangers faced by our planet if nothing is done. We also hope that by visiting some of the endangered places we will show our solidarity for communities whose livelihoods are most at peril and make them understand that cruising sailors are concerned about their fate.

For more information about the Blue Planet Odyssey, visit http://www.blueplanetodyssey.com/. Planning to attend the Strictly Sail Chicago (Jan. 24-27, 2013) boat show? Jimmy will be speaking about the Odyssey on Saturday, Jan. 26th at 4:45 pm.

The post Q&A With Jimmy Cornell About the Blue Planet Odyssey appeared first on Cruising World.

BPO map

The Blue Planet Odyssey is a unique, round-the-world cruising rally that will have starts in every continent, and its route will call at some of the most threatened islands in every ocean: Tuvalu, Tokelau, Tuamotus, San Blas, Maldives, Micronesia, Kiribati, Marshall, and Andaman Islands. The rally will also highlight the effects of climate change on the Arctic icecap, the Great Barrier Reef, and nature reserves such as the Galapagos Islands.

At every stop at those endangered places, the sailors will take part in community projects such as building wind and solar powered desalination plants. Participants with specialist skills will take part in local projects and carry out essential repair and maintenance work.

The event will reach out to children worldwide by way of a comprehensive educational program. Books and educational material will be delivered to places en route where local schools will be offered the opportunity to be twinned with schools in the country of origin of the participants.

As the route will pass through some of the least travelled parts of the oceans, arrangements are being made for oceanographic institutes and research centers to use this unique opportunity to receive environmental data gathered by participants. Throughout their voyage, the sailors will take seawater samples and make measurements to test for acidification, pollution, the depletion of the plankton population, and changes in temperature and salinity to compare to previous data.

Participants in this global event will be able to start and finish from a port on their own continent or join the event at any point along its route. Blue Planet Odyssey will sail west-about around the world along the classic trade-wind route via the Panama Canal and Torres Strait. For those who prefer to sail a more challenging route, there will be the option of a northern route via the Northwest Passage or a southern route via Easter Island.

European participants will start from a port in Southern Europe in summer 2014 and after crossing the Atlantic from the Canary Islands to the Caribbean will continue to Panama and the Pacific Ocean. The event will be joined at certain points by participants who have started from New York, Miami, San Diego, San Francisco, Rio de Janeiro, Cape Town, Sydney, and Shanghai. Detours will be made along the main route to call at every one of the endangered islands: the San Blas Islands will be visited en route to Panama, while the Galapagos and Tuamotus will be stops on the route to Tahiti. Tokelau and Tuvalu will be incorporated into a detour from Tonga to Samoa and on to Vanuatu. The Andaman and Maldive islands will be visited during the crossing of the North Indian Ocean, while the Marshall Islands, Kiribati, and Micronesia will be stopovers on the westbound route from Hawaii.

European Start: London (July 20, 2014) – Canary Islands (November) – Eastern Caribbean (December 2014) – San Blas – Panama (February 2015) – Galapagos – Marquesas – Tahiti (June 2015) – Tonga – [Tokelau – Tuvalu] – Fiji – Vanuatu – Great Barrier Reef – Torres Strait (October 2015) – Indonesia – Singapore – Thailand (January 2016) – Andaman Islands – Maldives – Mumbai (February) – United Arab Emirates – Oman – Red Sea – Suez Canal (April 2016) – Mediterranean – Gibraltar (August 2016).

African Start: Cape Town (December 2014) – St Helena – Eastern Caribbean (January 2015) – Panama
South American Start: Rio de Janeiro (December 2014) – Salvador da Bahia – Belém (Amazon) – Cayenne (French Guyana) – Eastern Caribbean – San Blas – Panama

North American Starts:
New York (October 2014) – Annapolis – Norfolk (November 2014) – Eastern Caribbean – San Blas – Panama (February 2015)
Miami (January 2015) – Havana – Belize – San Blas – Panama (February 2015)
San Francisco, Vancouver (April 2015) – San Francisco – Marquesas – Tahiti (June 2015)
San Francisco, Vancouver (August 2015) – Hawaii (October) – Marshall Islands – Micronesia – Japan – Shanghai (December 2015) – Hong Kong – Vietnam – Singapore (January 2016)
San Diego (November 2014) – Cabo San Lucas (February 2015) – [Galapagos] – Marquesas – Tahiti (June 2015)

Australian Start: Sydney (July 2015) – Great Barrier Reef – Torres Strait – Darwin – Indonesia – Singapore (January 2016)

Asian Start: Shanghai (December 2015) – Hong Kong – Vietnam – Singapore (January 2016)

Participants who wish to explore destinations that lie off the usual sailing routes may join one of the suggested detours and rejoin the main fleet at a later stage:
Northwest Passage route: Inverness (June 2014) – Shetland Islands – Spitsbergen (July 2014) – Iceland – Greenland – Northwest Passage (September 2014) – Hawaii – Marshall Islands (November) – Micronesia – Japan – Shanghai (December 2015) – Hong Kong – Vietnam – Singapore (January 2016)

Easter Island route: Galapagos – Easter Island (March 2015) – Pitcairn – Gambier Islands – Tuamotus – Tahiti (June 2015)

Having reached the Mediterranean, European participants will head for home, while boats bound for the US East Coast will continue westwards via the Azores and Bermuda. Boats bound for South America will return home via the Cape Verde Islands. As the most favorable route home for yachts from the US West Coast is via the Caribbean and Panama Canal, they can spend longer in the Mediterranean and cross the Atlantic from the Canary Islands in November. Boats returning to Asia will sail the same route to Panama and reach home via Micronesia or Hawaii.

The proposed route is planned to transit the North Indian Ocean to the Red Sea and Mediterranean but if the situation in that area is considered not to be safe, the route will be amended to reach the Atlantic Ocean by way of the Cape of Good Hope.

The Blue Planet Odyssey is the brainchild of Jimmy Cornell, the founder of the Atlantic Rally for Cruisers (ARC). Now in its 27th year the ARC is the largest transocean event in the world. In the last 26 years Jimmy Cornell has run over 30 successful international rallies, among them five round the world events: the Hong Kong Challenge, Expo 98 round the world rally and Millennium Odyssey.

Jimmy Cornell will be giving talks and presentations about the Blue Planet Odyssey at upcoming U.S. boat shows:

• Chicago Jan. 26, 2013 – Strictly Sail Chicago Boat Show
• Seattle Feb. 1, 2013 – Seattle Boat Show
• Miami Feb. 14-16, 2013 – Strictly Sail Miami Boat Show
• Oakland Apr. 13, 2013 – Strictly Sail Pacific Boat Show

For a complete list or for more information, visit the Blue Planet Odyssey website. You can also follow the Blue Planet Odyssey on Facebook.

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