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In early December 1984, we were 250 miles southeast of Beaufort, North Carolina, en route to St. Thomas in the U.S. Virgin Islands. Having set sail thirty-six hours earlier with two Morgan 51s?which had since fallen far behind (we hadn?t even had radio contact with them)?and a weather chart kindly provided by an American pilot, we were making our way at eight knots under jib number one. The crew consists of Guillaume, age 3; Véronique, age 12; my wife Marie; and myself.
We crossed the Gulf Stream at full speed, gradually reducing the sails until we were sailing bare. Then we sailed with no sails at all until the morning of the third day. Apparently, the tropical depression decided to take a much more easterly path than expected, and we?re now right in the middle of a storm. The Sun Fizz is an excellent boat?I can confirm that.
I didn't measure the height of the waves, but at daybreak, they were surely seven meters, probably nine, and maybe ten. The barograph turned into a seismograph, and the anemometer read 65 knots before the sensor was torn from the masthead. Considering that we were still, at that moment, running for the hills with no sails up, the reading must be accurate. Fortunately for us, there?s no cross-seas; on the contrary, the wave train is fairly steady. Exhausted from four hours at the helm in near-constant surf and feeling sick despite a transdermal patch of scopolamine, I try to put the boat into a dry reach with the rudder lock engaged. Great, it works! Kakawi We remain at an angle of between 30 and 40 degrees to the wave's slope and are drifting slowly with a significant but manageable list. Everyone is inside, and the hatch is locked in place. We're waiting to see what happens next.
Two days later, we?ll tentatively set sail again? The damage report is strangely minor: aside from a bent stanchion, nothing?s broken. Our good fortune likely stems from the absence of a cross-seas, but perhaps also from the precautions taken on a well-prepared boat. In fact, I?m sure that the proper weight distribution (even the wine bottles are stowed under the floors!) really helped us weather the storm.
Kakawi was purchased for a two-year family trip. Launched in January 1983, the boat has undergone only minor modifications: the two through-hull fittings in the aft bathroom were sealed off and replaced with a storage cabinet for oilskins; the bow was stiffened with two struts under the forward berth; and two 300-liter tanks were installed under those in the saloon. The tanks are connected by valves, which allows for ballasting.
A skirt has been added, and a cradle for the Atom tiller has been bolted to the transom. A superb set of Technique Voile Bretagne sails replaces the stock sails. The second anchor, an FOB, is stowed under the saloon table, with its accompanying forty meters of chain stored under the floor (which has been cut out to allow access to the hull). During a crossing, the CQR anchor and the sixty meters of chain from the main anchor are removed from the anchor locker and placed under the starboard berth in the saloon to reduce the heave moment.
As soon as the storm began, the canopy was removed from its poles and stowed in the cabin; the storage compartment lids were secured with carabiners; and the flare gun was placed in the starboard locker. With the exception of the radar reflector and the IOR pole, there is absolutely nothing fragile above deck. Inside, the auxiliary fuel tanks were emptied (twenty minutes of pumping) and the drawers secured with bungee cords. Everything is securely stowed inside. Dates, dried figs, and cereal are kept within easy reach. The radio remains on standby on channel 16, in the hope of making contact with the Morgans. Honestly, this gives me an excuse to call every half hour, reporting my hypothetical position just in case... I worry much more about the idea of being run over by a ship than by a wave, and I hope?rather foolishly?that radio monitoring isn?t limited to the BLU. We?ll eventually make contact with a container ship whose captain will tell us that his entire crew is sick and that he?d rather be in our shoes than his. It?s all a matter of perspective...
Twenty-five years later , Kakawi , which I sold without his name on it, is still enjoying a good run on Lake Champlain. My daughter graduated with honors from ESCP, despite (or thanks to?) two years of correspondence courses, and is now making her mark at a well-known consulting firm. Guillaume, with a master?s degree in applied mathematics under his belt, works in operations research at our national mail carrier and has bought a used Gib Sea Plus that he sometimes lends me. My wife and I publish scientific books.
The Journey 1983?1984
Kakawi is the name of a Labrador duck with a long white tail that makes sounds like a child; hunters in Quebec call it "sac à plombs" (lead bag) because it is virtually impossible to shoot.
In late February 1983, departure from La Trinité-sur-Mer for the West Indies via Funchal, Las Palmas de Gran Canaria, and then Pointe-à-Pitre.
Then a coastal voyage from Saint Lucia to the U.S. via the Caribbean, Haiti, Bimini, Miami, Charleston, and then the Intracoastal Waterway to Chesapeake Bay (My advice: this is the heartland of America, and you don?t even need to take the mast down for a 40-foot boat?it can go anywhere).
Departed Solomon Island in Chesapeake Bay in early December 1984, then back onto the Intracoastal Waterway (to avoid Hatteras, which has a bad reputation in November), Beaufort, then crossing the Gulf Stream to St. Thomas, V.I. From there, coastal sailing to Guadeloupe with stops at all the islands.
Return from Guadeloupe to Palm Beach via Puerto Rico, the Turks and Caicos, and the Bahamas; arrival in Palm Beach, where we left Kakawi to bring it back to Lake Champlain six months later via Bimini, New York, a detour through Connecticut and Rhode Island (Newport), then up the Hudson River to Rouses Point (the border).
Results after 22,000 miles.
The positives:
The boat: very comfortable and safe for a family, yet still a good cruiser (best average speed over a day: 9 knots. On the crossing, I was aiming for 140 miles a day).
The highly propulsive sail plan held up superbly. We had a mainsail with three reefs plus a bottom reef and four headsails, including a reefed jib, and, finally, two spinnakers?one of which was a light-wind spinnaker, as recommended by the sailmaker. This allowed us to keep the boat on a downwind course even in a breeze without the risk of luffing.
The Atom, which sailed faster than we did, even under spinnaker.
Damage:
Repair of the rudder after crossing the Atlantic (along with four other Sun Fizz boats, by the way!). This model had a rudder that tended to soak up water. Jeanneau graciously accepted the bill.
We had numerous problems with the alternator and, above all, the starter motor, as well as a fire in the engine compartment. Over the course of two and a half years, we sailed for 18 months without an engine.
After checking several things, we finally found the cause?which, incidentally, was completely ridiculous: salt was blocking the ignition switch, resulting in the starter motor remaining engaged after the engine started, and the same thing happening with the glow plug. Of course, the control panel was then replaced.
Engine overhauled after 1,500 hours (the antifreeze safety tablet failed, causing oil to mix freely with seawater?with predictable results)
Regrets:
I should have chosen the Perkins engine with freshwater cooling instead of direct cooling; that probably would have prevented this breakdown and, on top of that, would have provided us with hot water on board.
Today
If I were to start using a Sun Fizz again today, I don't think I'd have a reel yet. By the way, I saw online that the dry cape that served us so well isn't so straightforward to use with a reel (see Kirié Adventure ). Besides, at one point or another, you have to set a staysail. So the advantage isn't as obvious as it seems.
For an older couple, a heavy genoa is tiring anyway. I?d prefer a reefable solent, even if it means having a full-battened mainsail with a large leech, backstays, and a releaseable forestay. It might sound silly, but it?s very easy to take in the reefs on a main sail with fixed battens, and you don?t spend all your time tacking while cruising. In any case, a spinnaker?or even a light-wind spinnaker?is essential on this boat. In fact, it?s nearly impossible to make the genoa carry the boat at less than 45 degrees downwind, and when sailing close-hauled, you can do just fine without a genoa as soon as there?s even a little wind. So what?s the point of plodding along with a half-furled sail under the pretext that you might gain a quarter of a knot in certain favorable circumstances? Besides, with two seniors on board, we?re no longer chasing that quarter-knot, and if there are young people on board, changing the headsail is nothing but a pleasure. As for downwind sailing, a spinnaker is?for experienced sailors?actually easier to handle than a heavy genoa, contrary to what many people think.
As for the rest, it goes without saying that my sextant would be carefully stowed away somewhere along with the ferrite gonio, and that a brand-new GPS and a marine-grade PC would be sitting on the chart table. I?m far from being obsessed with electronics, but given the cost of traditional charts, the digital versions are more affordable.
