A Skipper (to remain nameless) posts an intriguing request on Facebook for a second crew member. Up to three months exploring Indonesian islands on a 45-foot cat, February thru April. I jump at the chance to escape Vancouver’s drizzle and book a flight to Singapore. (Having sailed from Cairns to Bali fifty years earlier, returning is a dream.) But the other crew mate, an experienced, tough-talking Aussie, convinces the Skipper to go north to Thailand avoiding reportedly bad weather in the Java Sea. They reverse course and motor for a fortnight to pick me up at a Malaysian port after I re-route to Kuala Lumpur.
Left: Dockside in Penang; Right: Roadside Buddhist shrine
The cat is soundly built, but after twenty years it needs lots of tender loving care: damage includes a broken autopilot, AIS, engine, batteries, lights, etc. The Skipper, a dedicated power-boater, has sailed one short season after purchasing her, and is not mechanically inclined. The grumbling Aussie fixes what he can while threatening to leave.
After climbing aboard, I resign myself to the Bad Karma brewed by things breaking and quick tempers. Phuket is now our goal, to enjoy its lovely isles and anchorages. Picture the Gulf Islands under a baking sun and sweltering humidity. Night sailing is risky, given the numerous fishing boats, unmarked floats, and shallow reefs. We motor-sail against headwinds covering forty to fifty miles a day. Only once does the wind let us fly a gennaker – for all of two hours.
We clear customs easily and tie up to a buoy in a harbour packed with vessels, a few of which are half-sunk. Phuket Town is a loud, brash fun-fair for vacationers with a smattering of old expats.
Unwinding in Phuket after voyage
After another day motoring north, the windlass packs in. Coupled with a faulty starter, it’s time to mutiny. Stranded at a marina resort bloated with mega yachts, we both jump ship. The Skipper finds local mechanics, then continues sailing onward with his newly arrived wife. I’ve lasted three weeks, my crewmate a few more.
Cats are mysterious creatures. It is my first time on one. Even in choppy seas, all the dirty dishes, tools, discarded clothes, gear, and mishmash don’t shift an inch. Nice until a really big one hits. Yet this stability encourages sloth. Why put things away? Despite a large main (with a tiny self-tacking jib), our cat is not fast, logging about five knots under both engines. As one of the more streamlined earlier models, it should fly along compared to its wedding cake sisters. Well, perhaps better downwind. Our prevailing wind is northerly on the nose.
The space aboard is truly awesome, with two heads serving four double cabins. No holding tanks, which makes me wince at the health state of the local anchorages. Five large solar panels top up the lithium house bank. Fans running off an inverter help circulate the hot, sticky air. An AC sits sadly in the corner, waiting to be installed – a must when at a tropical dock. Twice, the gas generator saves the day when one of the engine batteries fails.
Designed for comfort, cats often have terrible sight lines even with twin helms. (And let’s not talk about windage.) Docking can be a challenge, so marina staff often come out in a motored dingy to coax them into slips. The convenience of the wide transom is offset by the high freeboard. Without a side ladder, we leap across to the dockside. Access to the mast winches is by climbing up a very slick, contoured cabin side. And it’s a long drop if the boom knocks you into the cockpit. With shallow draft and some with retractable daggerboards, cats make sense in the tropics, despite their premier price, extra docking fees, and double the hull cleaning. For our waters, and the feel of really sailing, I vote for the monohull.
Left: Dinner with Phuket expats; Right: On watch for fishing boats
The voyage is tedious. Memorable moments are off the boat: sharing stories with old salts in a tiny Phuket bar; asking a smiling villager where to buy milk and being given some for free; chatting to a lonely marina guard from Nepal who sends all his savings back to wife and family.
What did I learn? Go with the flow. Keep expectations in check. Could have been disastrous if we opted for Indonesia with its scarce repair facilities. Bring your own 12-volt fan. Get ashore whenever possible as the boat can be a gilded cage. Aside from unexpected flight changes (buy a flexible return), it was not hard on the wallet. We agreed on $20/day for my food share. A popular YouTube yachtie “influencer” demanded triple.
Like my adventures with boat exchanges (see The Case For Boat Swapping and Living Danishly in Currents), both parties take a little risk hoping for big rewards.
P.S. After writing this article, I read an interesting Facebook post by Hugh Kominars. It’s his comprehensive guide on what the skipper and crew should expect of each other. He’s given me permission to share…
As a captain I am responsible for:
- Clearly stating any cost sharing and expectations.
- Providing a safe and secure vessel with all required and inspected safety gear for the given cruise.
- Walking crew members and guests [through] where all safety gear is located and how and when to use the equipment.
- Providing a tidy and clean vessel (at the start of the journey) to be maintained by crew and captain during the journey.
- Providing instruction on all vessel essential systems. On my vessel, I would need to instruct someone on how to start and stop the engine, start and stop a generator, vhf, satellite, GPS/chartplotter, radar, autopilot, battery monitoring system, galley stove, head, internal and external.
- Proving instruction on safe boating, anchoring, mooring, etc.
- Preparing a reasonable/fair duties schedule with initial supervision.
- Understanding any crew physical, mental or spiritual limitations, required medications, phobias, etc. (I had a crew member with a fear of the water and difficulty getting into the dinghy).
- Courtesy, consideration, individual space and privacy.
- A politics free zone.
An ideal crew member should:
- Arrive timely.
- Be willing and interested in learning and using the ship systems.
- Shar[e] in duties: cooking, cleaning up, putting items away, driving, navigating, standing watch without distraction or interruptions.
- See something wrong or confusing, speak up!
- Practic[e] good hygiene (no leaving skin, toe nails, crapped up head; shower regularly, etc)
- Respond promptly to instructions while underway.
- Be curious, polite, considerate, honor personal space, maintain appropriate privacy, and honor the no politics rule.
- Must like dogs (I have a frenchie)
I haven’t listed too many horror examples [in order] to protect the innocent.
Currents PDFs