This month I could be commenting on the continuing America's Cup debacle, but I won't, because as far as I'm concerned the subject is dead until we have a yacht race. I could comment on the latest Open 60 designs as they warm up for the Vendée Globe with a transatlantic dash in the Artemis Transat, but again I won't as in a couple of weeks we'll know who is fast, who is slow and who is fragile. No, this month I'll revisit a topic that is as relevant today as it was 100 years ago: a question of displacement.
A few years ago I was working on an article trying to define that elusive quality of seaworthiness. I asked designer David Thomas and he recounted a couple of stories. In one he was in a heavy displacement cruiser in bad weather and in the second racing a lightweight quarter tonner. "The first boat looked after her crew, the second was looked after by her crew, but that did not make either one more or less unseaworthy than the other. Both were fit for purpose," he said.
Later I was involved in a club debate arguing the light side along with Rob Humphreys. The heavy brigade were represented by Tom Cunliffe and Nigel Irens. The arguments put forward by both sides were fascinating and equally convincing. I argued that lighter boats are faster so more able to avoid bad weather and that while you can make a fast boat slow, you cannot make a slow boat fast. Messrs Irens and Cunliffe highlighted ultimate strength, capsize resistance and comfort, among many other issues.
Now, I've been at sea in bad weather in light boats when we've had to slow down because of the violent motion when a heavy boat would be like wearing comfortable carpet slippers. I've also slipped across the Channel in little more than a catspaw in less than 12 hours in a light boat and taken 36 hours for the same passage in a heavy one. But with well over 40 years of offshore seagoing behind me I think I'm having a change of heart. What's the need for speed when you're cruising? Why not sit back, puff at the metaphorical pipe and enjoy the day?
