As every cruiser knows, your engine might not be the heart of your boat, but it’s definitely the lifeline. That’s especially true when the wind dies or you need to punch through a tricky inlet.

With fall haul-out season approaching, it’s a good time to revisit the basics of diesel engine care: clean fuel, proper lubrication and smart layup strategies that help prevent problems offshore or dockside.  

To dig into some of the most common questions sailors have about fuel and oil systems, Cruising World spoke with Bill McDonald, a longtime pro angler and Lucas Oil ambassador whose marine experience extends to fishing and cruising vessels. From stabilizing fuel to catching wear issues early, here’s what he recommends for keeping your engine healthy, whether the boat is on passage or on the hard.

CW: Contaminants in diesel fuel and engine oil are a constant concern aboard cruising boats. What practical steps can sailors take to minimize contamination, and what role can additives play?

BM: Fuel contamination is one of the most common culprits behind engine problems offshore. Regular maintenance—changing fuel filters, draining water separators and keeping tanks full to minimize condensation—is your first line of defense. Additives designed for marine fuel systems can help disperse water, clean injectors and reduce buildup over time. I’ve used Lucas Marine Fuel Treatment for years in both gas and diesel engines. It’s made a noticeable difference in how clean my injectors stay. In the crankcase, oil stabilizers can provide an extra layer of protection by improving lubricity and reducing wear, which is especially useful when cruising far from shore-based repair options.

CW: Marine engines often sit idle for long periods. How can sailors preserve fuel and oil health during layups or long crossings?

BM: Fuel starts degrading the moment it’s stored. Using a stabilizer when you fill your tanks—ideally just before a long idle period—can help prevent oxidation and gumming. Once it’s added, run the engine briefly so the treated fuel circulates fully through the system. The same idea applies to oil stabilizers: Adding them before a layup helps coat internal components and protect against corrosion and dry starts when it’s time to fire up again.

CW: For sailors using ultra-low-sulfur diesel, what’s the risk of reduced lubricity, and how can that be addressed?

BM: ULSD lacks the lubricating properties of older diesel fuels, a characteristic that can lead to premature wear in injectors and pumps. Many cruisers now use upper-cylinder lubricants or fuel conditioners that restore some of that lost protection. They often include detergents too, which can be helpful for keeping older systems clean.

CW: Why is it important to use marine-specific lubricants instead of automotive products?

BM: Marine engines operate under tougher conditions: long hours at high rpm, and exposure to moisture and salt. Marine-grade oils are formulated to resist corrosion and foaming, and to maintain their properties under heavy load. Using automotive oil may not provide the protection your engine needs in these conditions. 

CW: When should sailors consider using oil additives, and what are the signs that it might help?

BM: Additives shouldn’t be used to mask a real issue, but they can help reduce wear, lower operating temperatures and extend engine life, especially in older engines. If your engine feels sluggish, runs rough or is harder to start than usual, it may be worth looking into oil treatment as part of a broader diagnostic and maintenance approach. 

CW: What’s your advice for diagnosing fuel system issues at sea, and how can sailors prepare?

BM: If your engine starts stumbling or loses power, it’s often a fuel problem: clogged filters, moisture or dirty fuel. Prevention is key. Treat fuel consistently, carry spare filters, and know how to change them underway. Having the right tools and basic familiarity with your fuel system goes a long way. 

CW: Some sailors still encounter ethanol-blended gasoline when fueling dinghy outboards or generators. What’s the risk, and how can it be managed? 

BM: Ethanol absorbs water and can lead to corrosion, phase separation, and damage to seals and hoses in small engines. If you can’t avoid ethanol-blended gas, then use a conditioner designed to counteract those effects. It’s a simple step that can prevent a lot of headaches, especially when fueling at unfamiliar docks.

CW: Do you have any advice for boats operating in tropical or high-humidity environments where corrosion is accelerated?

BM: Salt air and humidity are relentless. Rinse thoroughly with fresh water after outings, check electrical terminals for corrosion, and use anti-corrosion sprays where needed. Good airflow in the engine room or lazarette can also help reduce trapped moisture. Regular inspection is the best prevention.

CW: With more cruisers doing their own oil analysis, what should they be looking for? And can additives affect the results?

BM: Watch for signs like elevated wear metals, thinning viscosity or contamination. Additives can help reduce wear particles and maintain viscosity, especially under load. When I started adding Lucas Oil Stabilizer to my maintenance routine, I saw a drop in wear metals on my reports. But if analysis shows recurring problems, that’s your cue to adjust service intervals or investigate further.

CW: How often should fuel and oil systems be treated during extended cruising, and how does usage affect your maintenance schedule?

BM: Your maintenance rhythm should match your usage. Liveaboards and long-range cruisers may need to treat fuel and change oil every few hundred hours; seasonal sailors might only do this once or twice a year. What matters most is consistency and prepping properly before layup. If you’re using additives, follow the recommended ratios and make sure they’re mixed thoroughly and circulated through the system.

Our final takeaway? Marine engine health is about more than just oil changes. A full-system approach includes clean fuel, good airflow, and protection from corrosion and wear. Additives can help extend engine life, but only when they’re used alongside routine maintenance and thoughtful operation. 

It’s work, yes. But when the wind dies, you’ll be glad you put in the time.

The post Extend Your Marine Engine Life With These Tips appeared first on Cruising World.

Our Stevens 47, Totem, is anchored with 370 feet of chain in 90 feet of water off Majuro Atoll. Around us lie the rusting hulks of cargo ships. We are also amid the coral reefs, aquaculture pens, and a mooring area with a half-dozen cruising boats. Squalls are frequent here, just 7 degrees north of the equator, in the capital of the Marshall Islands. 

Between downpours, my husband, Jamie, and I dinghy in to collect a package at the post office. It’s filled with pure convenience. Two weeks earlier, our portable gas generator wouldn’t start. This isn’t a problem in mostly sunny places, where Totem’s 1,215 watts of solar typically exceed our power needs, but here in the Intertropical Convergence Zone, thick cloud cover blots out the sun for days at a time. 

Without solar power, the suitcase-size generator is essential for charging our batteries. Jamie tried everything to diagnose and fix the issue: carburetor, fuel pump, spark plug, coil, oil sensor. No luck.

There was no suitable replacement available locally, but a shipping agent in Honolulu, for a nominal fee, helped us purchase and deliver a new Honda EU2200i. We might have squeaked by without it, but with more remote islands ahead and a desire to avoid running engine hours just to charge batteries, this felt like a worthy investment. 

Since then, we’ve found the generator’s portability to be vitally useful. At a remote atoll, we once hauled it ashore to power our tools for repairing a rudder on a boat that had struck a coral reef.

Back aboard Totem, Jamie marinized this new generator. A single hour spent adding protective coatings will make future maintenance far easier. Jamie started by removing the exposed fasteners one at a time to apply Tef-Gel to the threads. Once reinstalled, the exposed heads got a coat of CRC Heavy Duty Corrosion Inhibitor or Boeshield T-9.

Next, Jamie marinized the rubber feet that help dampen vibration and sound. Each foot is held on with a bolt—one that tends to rust, stain the deck, and eventually fail. In the past, Jamie tried protective coatings, but none lasted. This time, he filled the inside of the rubber feet with silicone to create a water barrier. If you try this, keep the generator upright if there’s any oil or gas inside.

For the exhaust muffler, Jamie removed the plastic cover and the muffler itself, then sprayed the muffler with high-heat paint for protection. Covering the generator when not in use also helps keep internal components protected from rain and spray.

Once this was all done, and after the engine oil and gas were added, there was one final step before putting the generator into service: installing an hour meter. Ours is activated by engine vibration, giving us a quick visual cue for tracking run time and performing scheduled maintenance. No guesswork. No forgotten log entries. Just change the oil, clean the air filter, and stay on top of maintenance based on real hours run.

With electrical convenience restored, we’re able to top up the batteries and water tanks once again. We’d be catching up on laundry too—but the generator doesn’t keep squalls away, and we’ll need a little more sun to dry our clothes.

The post Why A Marinized Generator is a Must for Cruisers appeared first on Cruising World.

Whether you’re out for a weekend cruise or logging ocean miles on an extended voyage, a reliable and hygienic freshwater system is essential to life afloat. Inconsistent pressure and biofilm buildup are among every boater’s challenges in managing onboard plumbing.

We spoke with the marine systems experts at Vetus to get practical insights into the common problems cruisers encounter, and what to consider when upgrading or maintaining fresh- and wastewater systems.

CW: What are the most common issues sailors face with freshwater systems?

V: Out on the water, two problems tend to pop up again and again: bacterial contamination in tanks and inconsistent water pressure. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve opened a tank on a boat that had been sitting in the tropics for a while and found that telltale green tinge or a whiff of funk. When tanks sit full for long periods, especially in warm climates, bacteria and algae can take hold. The trouble gets worse when the tanks have no easy way in for cleaning or inspection. If you can, choose tanks with large inspection ports or removable lids; it makes regular maintenance and flushes a quick Saturday morning job instead of a full-on project.  

Water pressure woes, such as pulsing or surging at the tap, are another favorite gremlin. More often than not, an undersized or aging pump is to blame, or a system that is missing an accumulator tank altogether. A properly sized pressurized water system with built-in pressure regulation does more than make the flow steady. It makes the everyday stuff, from dishwashing to taking a shower to rinsing salty gear, feel civilized instead of frustrating.

CW: How have modern freshwater systems evolved to meet the needs of long-distance cruisers?

V: These days, durability and ease of maintenance sit at the heart of good freshwater system design. When you are hundreds of miles from the nearest marina, you cannot count on finding a spare pump or the right fitting. Every part of the system, from tanks and hoses to fittings and pumps, has to be able to handle constant use in a salty, often remote environment.  

The good news is that materials and layouts have come a long way. Tanks are built from tougher, more stable materials, pumps are more reliable, and smarter system designs make it easier for owners to handle upkeep themselves. Features such as inspection ports let you install extra gear like senders or sensors without major surgery. Corrosion-resistant hardware and simplified plumbing runs also mean you spend less time chasing leaks and more time focusing on the passage ahead.

CW: What’s new when it comes to conserving water on passage, especially with marine toilets?

V: Modern marine toilets are designed to use less water per flush without giving up hygiene or comfort. Better bowl shapes, smooth cleanable surfaces, and improved flushing mechanisms all work together to reduce overall water use.  

Wastewater management is another part of the conservation picture. Holding tanks and transfer systems are now built from lighter, stronger materials that resist corrosion and are easier to keep clean. These designs also help limit environmental impact. For the long-distance cruiser, the goal is to enjoy the same comfort and convenience you would have in a marina, while taking a responsible approach to both water use and waste handling at sea.

CW: What should boat owners look for when upgrading a water pressure pump?

V: Put quiet operation, energy efficiency, and the ability to run for long stretches at the top of your list. The latest pumps often come with helpful features such as thermal protection, dry-run capability, and integrated check valves. These reduce common failure points and can make installation simpler.  

If your system doesn’t already have one, add an accumulator tank during the upgrade. This small piece of gear smooths out pulsing at the tap and cuts down on pump cycling. The result is a quieter system that uses less battery power and keeps things running smoothly on long passages.

CW: What tank materials and designs are best for onboard use, and how can sailors ensure good hygiene over time?

V: For freshwater, look for tanks built from food-grade, non-corrosive materials such as linear polyethylene. Seamless construction lowers the risk of leaks, and internal baffles help keep water from sloshing around while you are under sail. For wastewater, similar materials provide the strength you need along with good odor resistance.  

Easy access for inspection and cleaning is essential. Larger ports and modular inspection systems make it simple to check the inside of a tank and flush it when needed. In tight spaces, a flexible tank can be a smart option. These tanks conform to the shape of the hull and can fit into compartments where a rigid tank will not go.  CW: Wastewater systems are one of those chores most boat owners would rather not think about, at least until something smells or clogs. What makes for a setup you can rely on without the drama?

V: It starts with odor control, corrosion resistance, and maintenance you can actually keep up with. Thick-walled synthetic tanks with built-in odor barriers do a great job of keeping smells where they belong. Good ventilation is also important, and an inline carbon filter will stop most odors before they even reach the cabin.  

A few smart design choices help too. Narrower hoses, around 19 mm, can improve flow and cut down on the chance of blockages. Inspection ports make it easier to keep tabs on what is going on inside and to give the system a proper cleaning. Even small upgrades like adding a lid opener for sealed tanks or using a biodegradable treatment such as TankFresh can turn a headache into a system you hardly have to think about, which is the real goal when it comes to wastewater at sea.

CW: Odor control is one of those must-get-right parts of any waste system. How do you keep smells from taking over, and what are some best practices sailors should follow?

V: Ventilation is key. You want large-diameter hose runs that slope downward so waste doesn’t hang around and cause trouble. Good airflow through the tank is essential, and “no smell” filters can trap odors before they even escape the vent line.  

Electric toilets with macerators also help a lot. They break down waste and push it through the system more efficiently, which means less buildup and fewer smells. For best results, check regularly for blockages, make sure hose connections are tight, and rinse tanks often with odor-neutralizing treatments. Keeping on top of these simple steps makes life aboard much more pleasant.

CW: Are there digital monitoring systems that help sailors keep tabs on tank levels and system performance?

V: Absolutely. Noncontact ultrasonic level sensors have really changed the game. They give accurate readings for freshwater, fuel, and black- and gray-water tanks without the wear and tear you get from mechanical senders. You can hook these sensors up to a central display, so you get real-time updates on multiple tanks all at once.  

This kind of setup is a huge help on long passages where managing fresh water and holding tank capacity is critical. Smart monitoring means fewer surprises and lets crews stay ahead of any issues before they become problems.

CW: How do these systems integrate with the rest of the boat, especially in tight spaces or custom installations?

V: Many tanks, pumps, and plumbing parts are designed to be modular and compact so they can slip into tight spots without choking off flow or hurting reliability.  

Flexible hoses and ready-to-go installation kits really come in handy on older boats or ones with unusual hull shapes. The last thing you want is a system that forces you into a tangle of rerouted lines every time you try to upgrade. The goal is smooth performance with as little fuss as possible, so you spend less time under the boat and more time enjoying the water.

CW: How can sailors extend the life of their plumbing systems, whether for seasonal or bluewater cruising?

V: It really comes down to regular care. Think of it like giving your boat a little daily attention so it doesn’t throw a fit when you need it most. Clean those freshwater tanks often—nothing worse than algae or bacteria throwing a wrench in your water quality. Swap out filters like clockwork to keep everything tasting fresh and running smooth.  

For waste tanks, treatments like TankFresh are a game changer. They help break down waste naturally and keep the stink at bay, which makes life aboard a lot more pleasant for everyone. After each use, flush your hoses with clean water to avoid nasty blockages and that stagnant water funk nobody wants.  

And don’t forget to eyeball your hoses and fittings regularly for leaks or wear. Ventilation systems need some love too—check for blockages and swap out odor filters before they lose their punch. Stick with these simple habits, and your systems will thank you by staying reliable whether you’re crossing oceans or just keeping the boat ready between trips.

Top Tips for a Trouble-Free Water System

Install inspection ports. Add large, accessible ports to fresh and wastewater tanks for easy cleaning and checks.

Use vent filters. A carbon-based “no smell” filter on your tank vent line can eliminate most odors before they enter the cabin.

Add an accumulator tank. This helps smooth out pulsing pressure and reduces pump cycling. It’s especially useful for long-term cruisers.

Choose flexible hoses. Marine-grade hoses with built-in odor barriers make tight routing easier, and they last longer.

Monitor with ultrasonic sensors. Non-contact level monitors prevent overflows, alert you to shortages, and reduce maintenance surprises.

The post Avoid Common Boating Plumbing Pitfalls With These Tips appeared first on Cruising World.

Our 1969 Cross 46 trimaran, Migration, was assigned an extra-wide guest dock at Fukuoka’s Odo Marina on the island of Kyushu. Strong northwest winds were in the forecast, so we began tying lines together to reach 65 feet across to the opposite finger.

That’s when Choichi-san wandered over. He’s a classic salt we’d met months earlier in Yakushima, where we shared a quay while waiting out a gale. He’d wasted no time showing us tricks for mooring to the barnacle-crusted walls of Japanese fishing harbors. And now, here he was again, appearing as if by magic to lend a hand—this time with a brand-new, ¾-inch braided line, long enough to keep Migration clear of the dock. 

When the blow had passed and we offered to return the line, Choichi-san declined, saying, “No, no. For you.” We think of him every time we use it.

That mooring line was the first of many gifts we received with no expectation of anything in return. In fact, we soon discovered the difficulty of giving thank-you gifts in Japan, often finding ourselves on the receiving end of a thank-you-for-the-thank-you gift.

But it was the friendships, not the gifts, that made our time in Japan so memorable. We’ve met all kinds of people during 20 years of cruising in 28 countries, but the Japanese were the epitome of hospitality. Their friendship, generosity and excitement for our visit overwhelmed us.

Both of us had dreamed of sailing to Japan, especially because Migration was built there 56 years ago. She was shipped to her first owner in California, where she was berthed in Alamitos Bay Marina—on the same bay where a 12-year-old Bruce was learning to sail dinghies. During a two-year refit in Thailand, we stripped away her delaminating fiberglass (polyester resin doesn’t age well on plywood). Underneath, we found handwritten kanji, a system of Japanese writing that uses Chinese characters. Photos of this delighted nearly everyone we met in Japan. A boat like Migration was a rare sight, and the idea that she was a product of decades-old Japanese craftsmanship fascinated many people we encountered.

In early June, we arrived in Ishigaki, at the southern end of the Ryukyu Islands, after a 28-hour sail from Taiwan. Eleven officials from six departments processed our arrival, a long but impeccably polite affair. We spent the next 10 days getting our bearings: securing a SIM card (a multiday challenge), completing paperwork, diving with manta rays, visiting nearby islands and savoring our first exceptional Japanese meal.

Eventually, we set sail for Teramajima, 35 nautical miles to the northeast, where we met our first tomodachi, or friend. The island has just 1,000 residents, and the sun was blistering as we walked through farmlands toward the village. We spotted a man with a group of children and asked in basic Japanese where we might find ice cream. To our surprise, he replied in English. Yoshi-san, from Kobe, turned out to be the only other tourist on the island.

His warmth and enthusiasm were instant. When he told us he was taking the ferry to Miyako-jima in two days—the same day we planned to sail there—we invited him to join us. “Sugoi!” he shouted, jumping up and down and making the kids giggle. It was, indeed, amazing. We’d never seen such unfiltered excitement after an invitation to sail aboard our boat.

The 30-mile sail was lively, with 25 knots on the quarter. Yoshi-san patiently answered our endless grammar questions until, mid-sentence, he leaned over the coaming, threw up and turned back to finish his answer. A true trouper.

We moored in Miyako-jima’s fishing harbor, and Yoshi headed to his friends’ guesthouse, promising to return later. When we arrived that evening, we were greeted by birthday decorations, food, new friends and a cake—a celebration in honor of Alene’s recent birthday. The beer and awamori flowed late into the night. It was an unforgettable (and slightly soused) introduction to Okinawan hospitality.

As we sailed north through the Ryukyu Islands, the snorkeling proved superb. Tokashiki and Zamami had stunning coral, colorful fish and tranquil anchorages. At Kakeromajima, after snorkeling a small reef, we swam ashore to a beach that was deserted, except for three people lounging on a blanket. They waved us over, and though our Japanese faltered, we understood they wanted us to wait. Soon, the fourth of their party arrived. 

Nob-san is a tall man who carries himself with an almost regal elegance. Thankfully, he also speaks English. His wife, Keichan, was born on the island, and they often returned from Yokohama with their friends, Kiyoshi-san and Mieko-san. We were invited to a picnic, which turned into a sail and snorkeling trip aboard Migration. That first meeting blossomed into a decade-long friendship full of rich political and philosophical conversations through email exchanges.

We continued into the Seto Inland Sea via the narrow, bustling Kanmon Strait, just as the Setouchi Triennale art festival was underway. The chance to sail from island to island, taking in installations both quirky and profound, felt like a stroke of luck.

New friends marked nearly every port. One of the most surreal encounters occurred in Hiroshima. We’d met Mitsugi-san, a surgeon, in Fukuoka. He told us to call if we ever sailed to Matsuyama, his hometown. When we did, he hosted us for a tour of a historic mountain village and told us he hadn’t sailed in years. Naturally, we invited him for our next leg: a 35-mile hop to Hiroshima.

It was a brisk, cold sail, but Mitsugi-san relished every moment, especially steering between islands. Upon arrival at Hiroshima’s Kanon Marina, we assumed we were off to enjoy local okonomiyaki. Instead, we sat in a dentist’s waiting room for an hour. Enter Misato-san, a whirlwind of energy and conversation who whisked us away on a series of cryptic errands in her enormous Cadillac, music blaring. Eventually, we got our okonomiyaki. Then, after dropping off Mitsugi-san, we picked up her husband and a stack of towels. Off we sped into the mountains to a beautiful onsen.

These public baths fed by hot springs are a cornerstone of Japanese life. We adored them. That night, Alene received an enthusiastic, nonstop tutorial on bathing etiquette from Misato-san. Bruce, meanwhile, enjoyed quiet soaking time with her husband.

By the time we returned to Migration, well past midnight, we were exhausted and dazed. What began as a routine day sail had become a full-blown, unforgettable adventure.

Japan is breathtaking. But more than anything, the friendships shaped our experience and made each moment feel dreamlike.

Every port held surprises: In Kobe, we reunited with Yoshi-san and spent nights in his favorite bar, playing music and making friends. In Shōdoshima, we sang Christmas carols with Maya, Yuki and her rabbit, which was dressed as Santa Claus. In Nagasaki, Tatsuo-san and Keiko-san insisted we join them for a beach day the moment we tied up.

Japan is breathtaking: misty cedar forests, turquoise seas, snowy pine-covered peaks. Its architecture is graceful, its food sublime, and its culture intricate and endearing. But more than anything, the friendships shaped our experience. They lifted us, carried us and made each moment feel dreamlike.

Migration was welcomed back to her birthplace. And we were embraced by friends who touched our hearts and continue to call us back. 

Bruce Balan and Alene D. Rice have been sailing full time aboard Migration since 2005 and are the creators of TheChartLocker.com. They are in New Zealand and plan to return to Japan in 2027. Follow them at svMigration.com.

Tips for Cruising in Japan

Respect the CultureJapan has many social nuances. One example is chotto muzukashii, which means “a little difficult.” Usually, if someone says something is a little difficult, my response is, “Well, let’s figure out how to do it.” But in Japan, the phrase means “it cannot be done,” as it’s considered rude to say a direct no. § Being considerate, polite and respectful will take you much farther than being loud or pushy. We cannot stress enough how important this is. Already, several marina operators are considering excluding foreign boats because of bad behavior. In Japanese society, you must avoid inconveniencing others, even unintentionally. Your actions will affect how all future cruisers are received.

Language

It can seem an insurmountable challenge to learn a language as different from English as Japanese. But since many Japanese people are shy, learning a little will help break the ice. Everyone we met was extremely grateful for our attempts to speak the language. § There are three alphabets used in Japan. We recommend learning Katakana first, as that is the alphabet used for many foreign words that have been assimilated. It’s pleasing to be able to sound out 掇讹肪非峨恶非尔 (gasorin sutando) and know that it means gas station.

Bureaucracy

Though bureaucracy can be exasperating, we actually enjoy navigating the paperwork ourselves. It offers the opportunity to immerse oneself in the culture and meet locals. Thankfully, the antiquated closed-port rules that required visiting yachts to receive permission for all but a handful of harbors were eliminated in 2018. But there is still plenty of paperwork, plus visits with local officials. If you are in a hurry or don’t want to deal with the red tape, Konpira Consulting is happy to help. Remember, patience and politeness are essential.

Assistance

No gaijin, or foreigner, has done more to promote cruising in Japan than Kirk Patterson of Konpira Consulting, which you can find at konpira-consulting.com. After sailing to Japan in 2013, he became the first gaijin to circumnavigate the country. Realizing what an unusual destination Japan is, he created Konpira Consulting to assist cruisers and encourage cruising in Japan.

Weather

One reason many boats don’t visit Japan is a fear of hurricanes, which are called typhoons in this part of the world. It is not an unsubstantiated fear. West Pacific typhoons are powerful and plentiful.
The good news is there is excellent tropical storm tracking available from the Joint Typhoon Warning Center, a division of the US Navy with a solid interest in protecting its regional bases. Also, there are thousands of fortified harbors. This country has been dealing with destructive typhoons for centuries. § That said, a direct hit from a Category 5 storm is always a risk. Monitoring the weather daily and having a typhoon preparation plan is essential. West Pacific typhoons are rare in the winter months, but they can occur at any time, with August seeing the most frequent occurrences.

When to Go

Japan is affected by monsoon winds: northwesterly in winter and southeasterly in summer. If you are planning to sail through Japan and onward to Alaska in one season, it’s best to arrive with the first of the spring southerlies. You’ll want to depart for Alaska in early June, when the North Pacific gales weaken but before the typhoon season gains momentum. If Alaska isn’t on your itinerary, you can use the monsoon winds to visit Japan from the south, sailing north in spring and returning in winter.

Navigation

There is a remarkable amount of shipping in Japanese waters, and it’s dangerous to sail at night in some areas because of aquaculture farms. § There are many options for good electronic charts. TheChartLocker.com offers free coverage of the entire country with three satellite views in MBTiles format. For phones and tablets, the navigation app New Pec Smart is available. It’s in Japanese, but Konpira Consulting can help with the licensing and provide an English-language guide. The major charting companies all offer coverage as well. As always, the prudent sailor will have multiple charting sources and not rely on a single company’s products.

Moorage

Marinas can be expensive, while the concrete walls of fishing harbors are usually free if you ask permission. Tying up to walls is a skill one must develop quickly. Fender boards are useful, but sometimes ride up over the fenders. Konpira Consulting recommends using Polyform A5 fenders. Short loops of chain that hang over a wall’s rough edge help to avoid chafing your mooring lines. Tides can vary between 1 and 20 feet; a 3- to 4-meter collapsible ladder is extremely useful in some harbors.

Go Soon

In 2016–17, there were perhaps 15 to 20 foreign boats actively cruising Japan. Except at the check-in and check-out ports of Ishigaki and Hakodate, we met only three of them. If you have a social cruising style, you may want to join one of the rallies that are increasingly popular. Remember, though, that setting out on your own can lead to wonderful encounters with locals. Sadly, YouTubers and bloggers are discovering Japan. Misinformation and hyperbole seem to go hand in hand with social media, and that is bad for everyone’s reputations. If Japan is on your horizon, we recommend going sooner rather than later. —BB/ADR

The post Sailing Japan: A Voyage of Friendship and Discovery appeared first on Cruising World.

At some point, all of us classic-boat owners are faced with the expensive, time-consuming task of replacing the decks.

Teak is the preferred material, right?

Maybe. Maybe not.

I was faced with this predicament 20 years ago, when the teak decks on Searcher, our Bowman 57 ketch, needed to be replaced. The teak on the working decks was 30 years old and getting paper-thin. Bungs were missing, screwheads were showing, and the seam caulking was coming adrift.

So, I went looking for teak options. One alternative was cheap, plastic linoleum that tried to look like teak. There was real African teak or iroko, greenheart and tigerwood, but these, I thought, were better suited for a patio deck. Costa Rican teak might cost around $160 per square meter. I could have saved that money and instead painted the decks with antislip, but I never liked its look or effectiveness.

In 2004, I replaced the teak on the bow and working decks with Lewmar’s Treadmaster, an aggressively nonslip decking material with a diamond pattern. It comes in 3-by-4-foot sheets, is easily cut with a knife or shears, and is glued down over metal or fiberglass decks with a two-part epoxy. It’s maintenance-free and inexpensive.

A square meter of Treadmaster costs around $200. Teak is about the same, but far more labor-intensive and might require hiring professionals at $90 an hour. Treadmaster, I could install myself.

It took me a month to remove the old teak and fair the fiberglass decks, which were severely damaged during the removal process. I also had to remove and rebed the jib sheet tracks and other deck fittings.

Once the decks were faired, I drew out the pattern on the deck in pencil, cut out pieces of brown wrapping paper to fit, taped them down, and took a look. Nice. I then labeled the templates and the deck, and cut the Treadmaster to match. It took me a week to epoxy the Treadmaster panels in place, weighting them down with sandbags. Done.

Today, all I have to do is hose it off. But don’t fall on it, or you’ll wind up with a diamond imprint on your knees.

Another Option for Teak Decks

Five years later, the teak on the aft deck and the cockpit seats needed replacing. I wasn’t about to use Treadmaster here, with aesthetic considerations and soft behinds to take into account.

I found Stazo marinedeck, a Dutch product that’s available here in the United States. The distributor was in Thomaston, Maine, just 10 miles down the coast. This marine decking is made from compressed cork combined with a binder. It looks like teak (well, close enough) and comes in strips and sheets, all one-third of an inch thick. It does not absorb moisture, is much lighter, is a better insulator, is maintenance-free and is cooler underfoot than teak. After 15 years, all it needed was a light sanding to return to its original condition.

I also found it less expensive than teak, at $400 a square meter. It was easily cut and shaped, and I could do the installation myself. 

For that project, it took me two weeks just to remove the teak and fair the fiberglass subsurface. Cutting and fitting the cork was fun, like putting together a jigsaw puzzle. This part, I did dry: cutting the strips, fitting them in place and numbering each one with corresponding numbers on the deck. 

Then began the messy part: applying tubes of deck caulk in a caulking gun, spreading out the gooey stuff with a serrated trowel over a small section of deck, fitting a few strips in place and applying pressure, scraping up the goo that oozed out, and spreading it over the next section.

When I asked the guys at a nearby yard for suggestions, they told me they used their wives’ old dresses as smocks. “You’ll get this stuff all over yourself,” they warned. I did.

Once the cork was placed and rolled out, it needed a few days to cure. The next step involved filling and troweling the seams. This created a real mess. I began by taping the seams but then gave up, as troweling the caulk just spread the stuff outside the tape. The decks were covered in black goo. 

After a few days, the seam compound had set, and I hit the entire deck with a belt sander. It was a joy to watch the new and now-clean decks emerge from the black mess I’d created.

After 14 years of ownership and three voyages down to and back from the Eastern Caribbean, I sold Searcher in 2014. The boat sat neglected by the buyer in a Belgian marina for eight years after that. Matthi Pieters, a Belgian shipwright, then acquired it, and over the next two years, he rebuilt a significant portion of the boat’s interior, excluding the decks.

Matthi shared his progress with me and other Bowman 57 owners in our Facebook group. He recently sent me photos and this report: “We had to do some work on the cork deck, but now it looks very good again. There were some little gaps in the seams, which we cut out and filled. Water had gotten under some planks in the cockpit, which we removed and re-bedded. After a light sanding, the cork looks new. Some of the Treadmaster decking had become porous and discolored. So, we painted it with a thin epoxy. The edges of some sections of the Treadmaster were lifting. We need to re-epoxy these to fix the edges. Next summer, we’ll repaint the entire deck. The best thing would be to replace the Treadmaster. But to save costs, we try it this way for now.”

I wrote to Matthi recently about a newer product: Treadmaster’s Treadcote, an epoxy paint. It’s Lewmar’s answer to restoring heavily weathered and stained original Treadmaster decking.

Searcher has been renamed We’ll Sea and is now back in the water, with a new engine and rebuilt interior. The jade-green hull is now painted light gray. Matthi and his family sailed We’ll Sea from Belgium to London this past summer, with plans for more ambitious adventures down the road. 

She may have lost her teak, but she’s gained a new lease on life, and she’ll have a few more stories to tell from the other side of the spray.    

Based in Maine, David H. Lyman has owned and sailed four yachts in his more than half a decade of cruising in the Atlantic and Caribbean.

The post Teak Deck Replacement Options for Classic Cruisers appeared first on Cruising World.

Fixing your boat is a big part of the cruising life. After years afloat and more than a few refits in far-flung ports, I’ve learned that sometimes, calling in a professional is the smartest and safest option.

But finding the right help, staying on schedule and ensuring the job gets done right can be just as challenging as the project itself. 

Based on lessons learned the hard way (and a few wins worth repeating), here’s a practical guide to hiring and managing contractors, wherever your cruising plans take you.

Pick the Right Contractor (for You)

Marina and yard directories, as well as online forums, list contractors in each area, but word of mouth is still the best resource. Reach out to your own contacts, as well as the local cruisers’ network, for recommendations. Ask people about their personal experience with a contractor. 

When you connect with a contractor, discuss your needs and desired timeline, and gain an understanding of their capabilities and availability. If your insurance company requires contractors to have certification requirements, does this contractor have them? Does the job require liability insurance, and if so, does the contractor have it? 

Schedule an initial visit on board to outline your requirements and preferences, and to learn about their approach to the job. If you won’t be on-site during the work, how often would you like updates?

If you’re doing a technical refit, confirm that the contractor will include time for training at the end, as well as for follow-up questions in the coming weeks. If it’s an electrical project, ask if the contractor will provide a professionally drawn schematic of the new system. 

Get things in writing whenever possible. And if you’re flexible, it’s worth adjusting your schedule to work with the right person.

Plan Ahead 

We’ve all been there: Something breaks (again) and needs to be fixed (immediately). Hopefully, you can find a contractor to begin work quickly. But if you have a big project on the horizon, plan as far ahead as possible.

If you have a tight timeframe, you can ask your contractor if they can work overtime to accommodate it, but expecting them to do so is unreasonable.

Bigger jobs require multiple workdays or even weeks, and parts that likely need to be sourced ahead of time. Contractors can book up three or four months in advance, especially during hurricane season or cold winters, when boaters prioritize maintenance. Some places in the hurricane belt close up shop altogether for the season.

Secure your slot as early as possible, and consider adjusting your cruising plans to accommodate your contractor’s availability.

Create a Realistic Timeline 

Contractors want to get your job done on time, but boat projects can take longer than expected for a variety of reasons. Maybe a critical part is delayed in transit, or a weather system compromises the sunny, dry days required for the job. When work begins, more problems may come to light that expand the project scope.

These challenges can be navigated with open communication and a flexible schedule. Allow space between the project completion date and the start of your next adventure, so plans aren’t upended if complications arise. Seasoned boaters have a general rule: Whatever the time estimate, add a third.

Effectively Source Parts

Sourcing parts is a critical step in any project. The sooner you secure them, the better. In the islands, some parts can take a month to arrive. If you’re planning to hire a contractor, make it part of the job for him or her to order the parts, so you’ll have a guarantee. For large projects involving rigging, electrical or mechanical systems, the contractor can handle the many variables at play. He or she likely has relationships with suppliers and international brokers to ensure smooth customs clearance and delivery.

Hire a Project Manager for Complex Jobs

If you’re maximizing your time away from the boat by completing multiple projects at once, hire a project manager. Delays aren’t the only reason; another potential problem is confusion about who is responsible for what, and in what order. If your project involves multiple contractors, don’t assume one has authority or control over the others’ schedules.

A project manager, as the primary point of contact, keeps things moving, defuses any issues, and communicates with you regularly. 

Understand the Area’s Culture

Understanding the local culture is also beneficial. If you’re getting work done in the Caribbean, the workday may start and end early to avoid the oppressive afternoon sun. In the French islands, a longer lunch break may be part of the day’s structure.

In many areas outside the United States, contractors communicate through WhatsApp. In more remote places, they may not have access to email or even regular cell service for calls or texts. In those cases, in-person communication is key. 

While some contractors are diversifying their payment methods with apps, some places still operate in a cash-based society. That may require planning on your part if banks are only open a few days a week and have daily limits on cash withdrawals.

Be Respectful

Extending respect both ways is a critical part of any working relationship. If you have a tight timeframe, you can certainly ask your contractor if they can work overtime to accommodate it, but expecting them to do so is unreasonable.

For many cruisers, days run together, but contractors operate on a regular workweek. Save your calls and messages for work hours, and allow for a reasonable response time. They may be upside down in an engine room or hoisted up a mast. If you have multiple questions, ask for a quick call or in-person meeting rather than sending successive messages.

With planning, open communication and some flexibility, your project can come to a successful conclusion with invaluable knowledge gained along the way. And remember: Share your experience with other boaters when they’re in the market for a great contractor.

The post 5 Secrets to Hiring the Best Boat Contractors appeared first on Cruising World.

“This is the worst trip… I’ve ever been on.” I sing the chorus to “Sloop John B.”  My voice rings out loud and clear.

Just 15 feet from me, my partner, David, is sound asleep. But no matter how loud I sing, I know I won’t disturb him. My voice is nothing compared to the sound of wind whistling through the rigging, the crash of water rushing across the foredeck as Sahula shoulders her way through wave after wave.

For the past three days, we have been taking turns hand-steering as we fight our way toward Australia. A polar dip has caused two different weather systems to unexpectedly overlap each other, creating messy cross seas. Without our assistance, the windvane self-steering gear struggles to keep Sahula close hauled in the near-gale-force winds. 

We are both tired. The work of sitting behind the wheel in these sloppy seas is physically demanding but also boring. We have shortened our normal night watches to just two hours.  Sleep comes instantly when I get down below, strip off my foul-weather gear and climb into the leeward settee for my off-watch. David is the same. And though I am technically getting enough rest, I still need to do something to keep me fully awake and alert as day 13 of what is usually an eight- or nine-day passage slowly dawns. 

The Tasman Sea doesn’t have the best of reputations. Only one of the five previous crossings I have made between New Zealand and Australia could be considered pleasurable. The others ranged from plain hard work to one of the worst passages I recall making with my husband, Larry. Thus, I had been determined to choose a good weather window for this sixth crossing. 

The month of May is usually the best time to head westward from New Zealand. The seawater temperature has cooled down from its summer high, so the risk of tropical cyclones has fallen right off. Winter gales have not yet begun rampaging across the Tasman Sea. Several weeks earlier, I’d started watching the online weather forecasts on Windy and PredictWind, plus Met Office New Zealand. I was looking for a time when the center of a low pressure system crossing the Tasman was just passing the North Island of New Zealand,  and before the next low pressure system shoved its way between Tasmania and mainland Australia. Potentially good departure windows seemed to appear every fifth or sixth day.

Ten days before the end of May, we’d finally taken care of all our landside obligations. We’d enjoyed a brisk sail 120 miles north toward Opua, the customs clearance port, to complete the formalities of leaving New Zealand. But before we cleared, both of us were looking forward to finding a quiet anchorage among the myriad islands near Opua where we could spend a few days recovering from the rush to set sail while we waited for our weather window to open.

Weather patterns are complex. Two-day forecasts are reliable, but longer-term predictions are educated guesses. Windows open and close.

Only hours from Opua, our plans were derailed. My scour of weather sites indicated the exact pattern I’d hoped for was already forming up. If we could clear customs, make a dash to the local grocery store for fresh fruit and vegetables and set sail the next morning, we’d have a fine chance to reach northwestward with fresh, favorable winds for four days, and then catch a trade-wind sleigh ride westward.  

“What about catching the following window?” David suggested. “Be nice to do nothing for four or five days.”

It was tempting. Then I looked at the weather sites again. “This front is moving slower than usual. Could be 10 days before another window opens up,” I answered. 

As I rushed about buying provisions, then doing the pre-departure paperwork, David topped up Sahula’s water tanks, secured the deck strap for our harness lines, set up the para-anchor and its bridle so we could launch it without having to go on the foredeck, and then deflated the tender and secured it on the aft deck.

As I was walking back down the dock toward Sahula, I met Doug, a Kiwi cruiser I knew quite well. He asked when we planned to set sail. 

“In the morning. Nice weather window.”

He replied: “Cruising is a lot easier and safer now than when you and Larry set off. Now we’ve got all the info we need to avoid sailing into heavy weather.”

I recall those words just as a particularly hard gust of wind adds to the cacophony of sounds and I have to swing the wheel hard over to counteract Sahula’s surging. It’s true that Larry and I had far less access to weather info as we voyaged across oceans. But in some ways, that made sailing less worrisome. When we were planning to set off across an ocean, we used pilot charts to determine the best potential times to make a passage and the most advantageous course to sail for a chance of fair winds. To determine our actual departure day, we used local radio forecasts, the TV weatherman we watched at the pub near our anchorage, and the weather synopsis printout we could find at the local port captain’s office. We’d look for a time when we’d have at least three or four days of favorable winds to clear the land. Then we prepared the boat and ourselves as best we could for whatever weather might come eight or 10 or 20 days later.

We were never truly surprised or disappointed when the weather deteriorated five days or eight or 10 days after we set sail. We just reefed down and kept the boat moving comfortably, or we hove to until conditions improved.

Now, as I struggle to stay awake, I realize David and I are fighting something that should just be accepted. I don’t wait for the end of my watch. Instead, I call down to David, “Come on up and help me get this boat hove to.” I get no protest at all. Together, we soon have the staysail furled. We’ve used the mainsheet traveler lines to haul the double reefed mainsail tight amidships, and tied the helm to leeward. 

We were never truly surprised when weather deteriorated days after departure. We reefed down and kept moving or hove to until conditions improved.

Sahula slows until she is making almost no headway at all. The chartplotter shows she is now drifting downwind at about half a knot. The wind feels like it has dropped by half, and spray no longer lashes the boat. I put the kettle on to make a cup of tea while I download the latest forecast. Iridium Go! indicates the wind should start to back sometime in the next several hours. 

“Don’t count on it,” David comments as he climbs into the cockpit, and released from the chore of steering, settles comfortably into a dry corner under the doghouse to watch for coastal shipping traffic. 

As I climb into the bunk, I feel certain this short-term forecast will be right.  I also recall what Bob McDavitt, a well-known New Zealand weather specialist and sailing router once told me: “So many factors can affect weather patterns. That means, while it is relatively easy to make accurate two-day predictions, we forecasters are just making educated guesses about what will happen four days out. You sailors have to be aware, windows may open, but windows also close.” 

Less than six hours after we hove to, the wind did back. We set sail on a close reach to arrive at our destination 36 hours later, having sailed 1,370 miles in 14.5 days. No gear failures, no need to use the para-anchor, and two of those days were true dream sailing. 

The rest was hard work. But now, as we meander ever so leisurely north inside the Great Barrier Reef, it is those perfect days that come most readily to mind. 

After cruising more than 240,000 miles, US Sailing Hall of Fame inductee Lin Pardey is headed to sea again. Her latest book, Passages: Cape Horn and Beyond, encourages sailors to go simple, go small and go now. She is also the co-author, with her husband, Larry, of the essential Storm Tactics: Modern Methods of Heaving-to for Survival in Extreme Conditions, a must-read for anyone preparing for offshore voyaging.

The post Weather Windows: Lessons in Planning and Patience at Sea appeared first on Cruising World.

Repairing Awlgrip paint can feel intimidating, but with a little patience and the right technique, it’s possible to get a result that protects your boat and looks good from a boat length away. This step-by-step method is based on a completed repair our Cheoy Lee 41, Avocet, that’s been out in the weather for a year, imperfections and all.

Our repair began, as they all should, with a close inspection. Scratches had cut clean through the Awlgrip topcoat and primer, but stopped at the gelcoat. That was good news because no filling or fairing was needed. A careful sanding would suffice to prepare the surface for new paint.

Preparation is the make-or-break stage. We cleaned the damaged area thoroughly to remove salt, grime and oily residue that could sabotage adhesion. We laid painter’s tape about an inch beyond the damage, giving enough room to feather the edges without accidentally sanding into sound paint. 

Sanding started with 220-grit paper to knock down the rough spots, then moved to 320-grit to smooth the transition until the repair area blended into the surrounding surface. The goal was to make the edge disappear to the touch before ever opening a paint can.

Ideally, a compatible Awlgrip primer would have gone down next, but in this case, none was on hand. The job went straight to topcoat—because in the real world, repairs sometimes must happen with what’s available. Using the roll-and-tip method, we applied a thin, even coat of topcoat with a roller, then tipped it immediately with a clean, high-quality brush to pop any bubbles and level the finish. Once the first coat was tacky, we repeated the process until three coats had built up enough coverage for durability.

Fresh paint is fragile, so we shielded the repair area from sun, wind and airborne grit with a simple protective cover. Even a draped cloth or improvised shelter can make the difference between a clean cure and a dusty mess.

A year later, the repair is still intact. There’s no peeling, no major fading. Up close, a slight sag in the middle reveals where a little too much paint was applied in one pass, but the topsides look far better than with those deep, visible scratches. From the dock or under sail, the flaw is invisible.

Looking back, there are lessons for anyone tackling Awlgrip repairs. Airbrushing or using a small spray gun can make it easier to feather edges and blend new paint with the old. And while Awlgrip’s hardness is great for longevity, it’s less forgiving for small touchups. Alternatives like Alexseal, though designed for spraying, can be wet-sanded and buffed to create near-invisible repairs.

The takeaway? You don’t have to chase perfection to get worthwhile results. With solid prep, careful application and a little protection during curing, an Awlgrip repair can keep a boat looking cared-for and ready for the next voyage.

Follow SV Avocet’s Chris and Marissa Neely at svavocet.com. 

The post Awlgrip Touch-ups: Secrets to Long-lasting Success appeared first on Cruising World.

Marianna Fleischman had just finished racing one of the East Coast’s most prestigious offshore events. At the post-race party, clad in a matching crew shirt like many others in the crowd, she was swapping sailing stories with a man from another boat. He gestured at her top and asked, “So did all the wives of the racers wear those matching shirts?” She blinked. 

“Actually,” she said, “my husband is still out racing. I beat him to the party.”  

That moment, of course absurd, landed with the weight of every assumption that still drifts through the world of sailing like a fogbank: Who’s driving the boat? Who’s trimming the sails? Who belongs offshore? And who still has to prove it?

In June 2025, Allegiant, a privately owned offshore boat out of the Chesapeake Bay, completed the 475-mile Annapolis to Newport Race with the first all-women crew in the event’s history. The achievement wasn’t immediately obvious. Unlike podium finishers, milestone makers don’t always get mentioned. It wasn’t until the finish-line radio operator keyed the VHF’s mic and confirmed their place in history that skipper Maryline Bossar, navigator Hannah Garbee, watch captain Marianna Fleischman, and the rest of the eight-woman crew let themselves believe it. They had done it.

And yet, no official acknowledgment came from the race organization. No announcement, no mention at the awards. 

So, they wrote their own press release.

“Celebrating a moment like this feels paradoxical,” Bossar later said. “It shouldn’t be a big deal that a team of competent women raced offshore together. But here we are. Until these things become normalized, they need to be named.”

And named they were—by themselves, for themselves and for the sailors coming up behind them.

In many ways, Allegiant’s story is about showing what offshore sailing can look like when leadership is shared, preparation is intentional, and assumptions are quietly, methodically dismantled. This was a race, yes, but it was also a statement—made not with a protest sign, but with a foghorn, a well-trimmed sail and a course held steady.

The ocean, of course, doesn’t care who’s at the helm. Wind is indifferent to gender. Waves neither cheer nor question. Offshore, what matters is skill, grit and an unrelenting focus on the next tack or trim. Allegiant’s crew lived this truth through every hour of their race, battling fickle winds, long becalms and sleepless nights. 

“Our last 24 hours were something else,” Bossar recalled. “We set the spinnaker one last time and held it steady downwind in heavy wind. Allegiant is very balanced with that symmetrical kite. We crushed it, sailing faster than many boats on different routes, riding a weather system from the south we called ‘the elevator.’ We knew the models were converging. We knew what we had to do. And we did it.”

It wasn’t just adrenaline. It was also strategy.

They had spent the early part of the race playing the long game. Light air dominated the first two days, and boats whose crew panicked early often made impulsive tactical errors—hugging the coast or jibing too soon. Allegiant’s crew held their nerve, committed to going east of the rhumb line before the breeze returned. When it did, their position allowed them to jibe straight into the Newport approach, clean and fast.

For Fleischman, who served as a watch captain, the final day was a gift after a frustrating stretch of false starts with shifting winds. “It felt like this horrible cycle of hope and disappointment,” she said. “Then the wind finally filled in properly, and it was a push to give everything we had. We caught a couple of boats on that last day.”

Hannah Garbee, navigating for the first time on an ocean race, recalled the team’s strategic approach: “We wanted to get as far east of the rhumb line as possible before the wind filled in so we could jibe straight into Newport. That positioning really helped us capitalize on that last push.

“It was like threading a needle in the dark,” Garbee added. “But it paid off. That’s what navigation offshore is about: reading weather patterns, staying patient and trusting your prep.”

There were no shortcuts. In the months leading up to the race, the Allegiant crew trained
obsessively. Everyone aboard was safety certified. They ran woman-overboard drills in the dark, navigated by instinct and instrument, and practiced emergency steering setups and spinnaker douses until every response became second nature. Even sleeping arrangements were tested, rotating bunks and fine-tuning rest schedules to guard against the creeping effects of fatigue on decision-making. The boat became a floating system of interlocking trust and repetition, built to hold its heading even through windless nights when the tide threatened to carry them backward.

“There’s this idea that offshore racing is about hero moments,” Fleischman said. “But actually, it’s about systems. You build a routine, you build trust, and then the big moments take care of themselves.”

One of those moments came late in the race, far offshore near the continental shelf. Allegiant was drifting in a windless patch, essentially dead in the water with no steerage, when a vessel under power emerged from the fog. It was bearing down fast. 

There was no response on the radio. It stayed on a collision course.

“We were basically yelling, trying to prevent a collision,” Garbee said. They blasted their foghorn. Swept the deck with a high-powered spotlight. The boat kept coming.

Bossar prepared to start the engine. “In that moment, my job as skipper was to keep everyone safe and make sure no one punched a hole in the boat,” she said. “And the crew were ready to act.”

At the last possible moment, Garbee managed to raise someone on the VHF radio. The reply, though, was flippant—an almost casual acknowledgment of the near miss. “Their response sounded silly,” Garbee recalled. “They didn’t take us seriously at first.”

The intruding vessel passed within two boat lengths. The crew on Allegiant was shaken, but steady. There was no panic, no second-guessing, only quiet relief—and a sharp awareness of how high the stakes can be offshore, especially when you’re not immediately assumed to be competent.

“We were proud of how we handled that moment,” Bossar said. “It reminded us why we drilled so much in the first place. Offshore, we plan for everything we can. But you can’t plan for someone else’s disregard. And when you’re an all-women crew, there’s this added layer, like you have to work twice as hard to be taken seriously.”

Their journey offshore didn’t just test their physical limits. It also exposed the cultural weather still shifting across the sport. From provisioning dockwalks to competitor banter, subtle biases surfaced: unsolicited advice, second-guessing, condescension disguised as concern. “Some competitors didn’t even realize we were an all-women crew,” Bossar said. “We got called a ‘lady boat’ a few times. We handled our own comms, our own messaging. We didn’t want to wait for validation.”

And they didn’t get it. Not officially.

At the post-race awards, their finish time was announced—but not their history-making crew composition. Not even a passing mention.

“You wonder, does this matter? Are we really doing something here?” Fleischman said. “And then you realize: This is why we had to do this. Milestones like this get ignored because they’re not seen as competitive achievements, but there’s competition in showing up when the system isn’t built for you.”

Still, they didn’t dwell. They did what they always do: solved the problem themselves. Shared their story. Moved forward with the same quiet determination that had carried them across 475 miles of ocean. Because for them, this wasn’t just about one race. It was about building a pipeline for the next.

“If you want more women offshore,” Garbee said, “you have to give them opportunities. That’s how I got started. Allegiant took me on in 2022 when someone dropped out. That single opportunity changed everything.”

The problem, she explained, is structural. Offshore experience is gatekept—passed down through closed circles, inherited like family recipes. If you’re not already in, then getting in is nearly impossible.

Bossar would like to see an open registry. A crew bank. A place where women with training, certifications and ambition can raise their hands. “If you’re short on crew, look there first,” she said. “It’s not a handout. It’s a pathway.”

Fleischman agreed. “The jump from buoy keelboat racing to offshore is huge,” she said. “And for women, it’s even bigger. But you don’t get better without time on the water. We need to make that time easier to get.”

On Allegiant, that access was deliberate. Everyone rotated through roles. From helm to foredeck, from nav station to sail locker, they cross-trained and trusted one another. There were no barked orders. Just communication, consistency and respect.

“I never felt like I had to prove myself because I’m a woman,” Bossar said. “That’s not always the case offshore.”

They flipped the offshore stereotype. Instead of bravado, they ran with checklists and sleep schedules. Shared loads. Shared leadership. Even their gear and food choices told a story. They packed for endurance and morale. “No pink snacks,” someone joked. High protein, high comfort, high efficiency. 

“We relied on mechanics more than muscle,” Garbee said. “It made us more thoughtful. You learn to solve problems without forcing them.”

And as physically smaller sailors, they engineered smarter systems using block ratios, winch placement and timing. Seamanship by design, not brute force.

Leadership, too, was something they redesigned. Bossar, who co-skippers Allegiant with her husband on other races, emphasized that the difference isn’t gender. It’s approach. “He doesn’t use as many words as I do,” she said with a laugh. “But our styles complement each other. That’s personality.”

The tone aboard Allegiant was supportive, not soft. Strategic, not sentimental. For Garbee, preparation meant not just learning nav software but also building confidence in real-time decision-making. “Being part of an all-women team meant I didn’t have to carry the weight alone,” she said. “I could teach others to support, and that made for better decisions on the water.”

There are a lot of capable women sailors, Bossar said, but they’re overlooked: “If race organizers created even a simple award category for mixed or all-women crews, it would signal that those efforts matter.”

She also suggested creating a roster of skilled women available for delivery crew. “Deliveries are often unpaid, but they’re where people log their miles,” she said. “Give women those sea miles. They’re ready, able and willing.”

Fleischman pointed out that many women never get the chance to try offshore sailing because the path isn’t clear. “Some people love buoy racing and don’t want to go offshore,” she said. “But for the ones who do, there needs to be a bridge.”

Allegiant is laying the planks, race by race. The crew’s next goal is the Annapolis to Bermuda Race—a challenge that, to date, no all-women crew has completed. “There are seven open spots on this boat,” Bossar said. “We want to fill them with women.

“Every race is a chance to do something new,” she added. “To step into roles traditionally held by men. I was skipper. Marianna was watch captain. Hannah was navigator. … We’re not asking to be seen as women sailors. We just want to be sailors.”

Garbee credited her grandmother for helping her achieve her potential: “She said racing would make me a better sailor. It wasn’t about winning, It was about learning. I didn’t even see other women navigators until I got to Newport. And once I did, it made me want to be better.”

Bossar, too, sees change ahead. Slowly, but surely. “You’ll sail with men and women in all kinds of conditions,” she said. “And if you feel intimidated, that’s OK. Just know there are women sailors out there, waiting to help you build confidence. We’re out here.” 

Follow the Allegiant Crew:

Allegiant: allegiantsailing.com, @allegiantsailing
Hannah Garbee: TikTok @hannahsailorgirl
Marianna Fleischman: Instagram, YouTube, Twitch

The post No Pink Spinnakers Here: How Team <i>Allegiant</i> Defied Sailing Norms appeared first on Cruising World.