It takes a boat....

Sailing as a family requires a certain temperament in its membership. It’s often uncomfortable, exposed as you are to the elements, and hard on the nerves, exposed as you are to the potential for mishap. It can be an ordeal. But discomfort and anxiety are regularly traded in for moments of utter wonder during which dolphins blast seawater mist from their blow holes into your cockpit. As a family you occasionally witness a gorgeous schooner, such as The Spirit of South Carolina pictured above, heading out to sea.

And sailing requires money. Unlike the wind, isn't free. It requires a boat. A well-found vessel with the capacity to haul a small family up and down the coastal waters of North America is probably going to cost a few thousand dollars, at least $10,000 to $20,000. In my opinion, you do not want to be paying a mortgage on that vessel. If you don't have the money then you can't afford it. Wait, work, save -- and then buy. Once you have a sailboat, you instantly inherit the expense of a slip, maintenance and perhaps insurance. Once you have a sailboat, suddenly everybody on the planet, it seems, feels entitled to send you an invoice.I could be a bit off-base in my opinion as there are tax realities to consider. Bear in mind that a boat with a functioning galley and head can qualify as a residence, which means the mortgage interest is deducible on your income taxes, potentially saving you several grand.

Presumably, however, this boat would be your primary residence, and I don't know if I'd be willing to live on a boat with kids. I wouldn't rule anything out on that score, but…. then again, every live-aboard I've ever met does very little sailing. Stowing and securing everything in their world is the price they pay for a few hours of pleasure. And there’s another psychological phenomenon at work with them, for taking such a liberty can seem reckless. Consider this: Should their boat run aground then their home would be aground, mortally threatened by the elements and in need of rescue. Just think about that for a moment and you understand why live-aboards are often reluctant to do what they love.

So what kind of boat is best for family coastal cruising on a limited budget? There are no hard-and-fast rules here, only rules of thumb. In my opinion it's best to give the greatest consideration to the most commonly sailed boats, as parts, advice and owners' groups, etc., will be more widely available. A Catalina, Hunter or Beneteau isn't going to be as pretty as a Pacific Seacraft, but it's going to have far more room below and a replacement spreader will be readily available when yours inevitably fails.

A little extra room and a few creature comforts go a long way on the water. Cruising is a camping experience, even on a boat with a fully functional head and galley and spacious berths. For those new to sailing, the experience of being under sail itself can be unsettling. Life at 20 degrees, and then 30 degrees, and then 10 degrees is a fact of life when underway. Dragging anchor while out on the hook is a constant concern, preventing prudent folks from sleeping through the night. Electricity must be conserved, and the food and drink you have on your boat is all you’re ever going to have, as grocery stores are all but inaccessible. Obviously, marinas offer comfort and security, but slip space for transients is outrageously expensive in coast South Carolina and Georgia -- anywhere from $1.50 to $3 per foot per night. That's right: $45 to $90 per night for a little 30-foot sloop, all for the privilege of tying your dock lines to their dock.

Back to an opinion as to a boat for a family of four: 27 to 34 foot, wide beam, spacious cockpit, non-cored, all-glass hull, lead keel with a wing or bulb, skug-hung rudder, all lines and sheets leading to the cockpit -- all for less than $20,000. My boat, a Catalina 30, has some of these characteristics. Obviously, it's 30 foot. It also has a glass hull and a lead (but fin) keel. It has a spade rudder instead of a skeg and most but not all lines lead aft to the cockpit.
Sailing, as in life, you get only some of what you want. Make do, as my daddy used to say, and work with what you've got.

Sailing with unruly creatures aboard....

Welcome aboard. The boat is a 1980 Catalina 30 tall rig, her crew the Williams family. In October of 2006 we bought her in Charleston, South Carolina and sailed her 80 nautical miles south to our home on Hilton Head Island. For the next three years my family and I sailed the local waters, from the ICW to the open Atlantic, without getting ourselves killed. And we succeeded. Even the dog has avoided Davey Jones' locker.

Sailing with children is a hat trick. Nothing takes the fun out of an afternoon under sail like inadvertently getting your wife and kids into a life-threatening situation. Although they'll never admit as much, children frown upon careless parents. Think your wife will get busy with you in the v-berth after a nasty broaching episode? Think again.

We have yet to experience any close calls on the water. After a hundred or so days on the water, I can honestly say that it's all been good. My wife and I owe our good fortune to possessing something we call "common sense." It's not a nautical term, but common sense should have its own chapter in Chapman Guide to Piloting and Seamanship. Common sense is to seamanship what vermouth is to the martini. Common sense is to safe sailing what deep-fried twinkies are to morbid obesity. Common sense prevents parents from shitting their foulies when their first-born falls overboard without a pfd.

Safety first, as they say. It's a worthy saying and probably as good a way as any to start a blog about sailing with the family. And that's what this blog is about. It's for folks who are currently sailing with their spouses and kids or would like to. Of course it's not all about safety, but how to be in the presence of your loved ones while negotiating the watery parts of the world under the power of wind and tide. There is nothing -- and I mean absolutely nothing -- like it.