Space is negotiable.
A 27-foot sailboat becomes smaller every day, especially when someone is cooking.
Four men. Twenty-seven feet. One very patient sailboat.
What began as a six-month boys' trip to the Exumas somehow became a floating research project on how four grown men can live aboard a 1986 Catalina 27.
Welcome aboard Seamen
Meet the crew: Beau, Olive, Hubie and Jay. We departed Farmers Cay and worked our way through the Bahamas before turning our rainbow sails north toward North Carolina.
Some people spend retirement in motorhomes. We chose to cram four middle-aged men into 27 feet of fiberglass and call it comfortable.
The story
What started as a simple boys' trip to the Exumas turned into a journey full of conch fritters, questionable weather windows, beach bars, dock walks, and a Catalina 27 doing the work of a much larger yacht.
Along the way we learned that every forecast is merely a suggestion, ice is a form of currency, and a small sailboat becomes smaller every day.
“Living proof that comfort is overrated and adventure is best shared in very small spaces.”
The vessel
The boat features two “staterooms,” a salon that converts into sleeping quarters, storage, dining room, and occasional wrestling arena, plus a compact head and shower where efficiency is not optional.
The route
Scientific findings
A 27-foot sailboat becomes smaller every day, especially when someone is cooking.
After a few weeks aboard, knocking becomes ceremonial at best.
In the Out Islands, ice, beer, and working batteries can determine morale.
Preferably over a cold Kalik with no sudden decisions until morning.
Photo evidence
The wind turbine fund
As the voyage progressed, we realized there was only one thing standing between us and total self-sufficiency: a wind turbine.
Not because it makes financial sense. Not because we planned ahead. But because every great expedition needs a questionable fundraising goal.
Email the crew