Superlatives about winging and wing foiling today are flying off the shelves, just like the inflatable wings, boards and foils themselves. It’s “the hottest watersport of a generation,” says Surfing. And that’s no hype say the wing makers. The latest wind-powered craze has taken off for obvious reasons: the upfront gear investment is reasonable, it’s easier to learn than kiteboarding and session spots are now practically unlimited—especially, as we see it, when you can launch straight from the deck of your anchored yacht.

Rig it, launch it and soar across the balmy wave tops of the Caribbean with your friends; that’s the plan of our inaugural wing foiling charter flotilla, the first immersion experience of the Sailing World Expeditions series. We’re calling it “Winging Through the BVI,” because those who join us on this space-available charter cruise in November will enjoy equal parts island hopping, freestyle sessions and learning from expert coaches on hand to upskill your winging to new heights.

Interested? Click here to start your immersion.

The British Virgin Islands is the ultimate sailing destination, with as many as 60 islands and cays, all with easy passages between them and enough protected anchorages to accommodate the many yachts and sailors who come to experience what the locals call “nature’s little secrets.” With abundant tropical sunshine, vibrant blue waters, reliable trade winds and friendly locals, this easy-access Caribbean destination guarantees a relaxing and adventure-filled sailing immersion. 

So yes, we’re talking six days of inter-island sailing in the spectacular and cruisy British Virgin Island chain onboard four captained 43-foot Sunsail catamarans. The itinerary features morning, afternoon and sunset sessions with a few races and downwinders thrown in for extra stoke. With your capable captain to tend to the yacht, all you have to worry about is your daily routine. Wing, rinse, eat, rest and repeat with a cadre of like-minded and frothy wingers.

Secure your spot for $5,400 per person, double-occupancy cabin, before September 14, 2023. Pricing after September 14 is $6,000 per person, double occupancy. What’s included is a roomy cabin and private bathroom, experienced yacht captain, one-on-one coaching blocks, a few beach parties, a Sailing World subscription, and heaps of videos and photos to show off to your friends back home.

Not included in the pricing is food and beverage provisioning (but Sunsail has a convenient online provisioning store), or transportation and airport transfers. Bring your own wing foiling gear, because you know it best.   

Sound too good to miss? It is, indeed. With only four Sunsail 43-foot charter catamarans available for this unique flotilla, this promises to be an intimate group excursion. There are only three cabins available per yacht, so with a maximum of six passengers per catamaran there’s a generous allotment of personal space. Charter the entire cat with friends and family, or score a double-occupancy cabin and make new friends through this unique adventure, led by your Sailing World hosts and our expert wing foiling coaches, on hand to teach from departure to return. With stops at the BVI’s iconic anchorages and playgrounds and an exciting and curated itinerary, we guarantee your skills and spirits will soar.

Have a question or need more? Hit us up sailingworldexpeditions@bonniercorp.com

The post Wing With Us in the BVI appeared first on Sailing World.

I get bored easily, which is probably because my day job is primarily racing SailGP’s F50 foiling catamaransg at 50-plus knots against eight other boats on impossibly short racecourses. My version of a family holiday has nothing to do with sitting on a beach sipping piña coladas or wasting away in Margaritaville, which is why when my family goes on vacation it can be a challenge to find something that keeps everyone entertained. My 6-year-old daughter wants friends to play with and ideally a lot of animals. My wife likes an adventure but also appreciates just relaxing in the sun. And me? Like I said, sitting around doing nothing is just not my thing, and that’s why a bareboat sailing vacation ticks all my boxes.

A charter catamaran is, of course, nothing like any of the America’s Cup or grand-prix boats I’ve played on for many hours over the years. When the sails go up, I’ll be lucky to get the boatspeed into double figures, but there’s always fine-tuning to do—you know I can’t be seen sailing around with a bad leech profile or creases coming out of mainsail batten pockets. If there’s another boat with sails nearby, there’s no rest until I’m higher and faster. When the sails are stowed, there’s elaborate fishing contraptions to build, wrecks to snorkel and lobsters to catch. Throw in a wing and a foil board, and the holiday is pretty ideal for me.

But a vacation is not all about me. For my daughter, it is great to invite another family so she has friends to adventure with. For my wife, short passages afford her stretches of sun-soaked relaxation on the bow, local restaurants and, most importantly, quality family time, which is more valuable than you can imagine for pro sailors like me.

Last year, we took on our first family bareboat charter in the British Virgin Islands and had an amazing trip. This year, I pitched something more adventurous and somewhere none of us had been before. A certain Sailing World editor friend told me about the Abacos in the Bahamas, where Sunsail had reopened its base after Hurricane Dorian leveled the area in 2019. He promised the kids would love it, the sailing is easy, and the islands are all unique. Upon his recommendation, we booked a charter without knowing anything about the place, and so our adventure began.

Flying into the Abacos today showcases the destruction still present. Acres of palm trees that used to stand lush remain barren as far as we can see through the plane’s small oval windows. On the taxi ride to the hotel, our driver describes how the storm surge went above the first floor of every building in town. But a massive rebuild is happening, and beautiful pastel Caribbean-style buildings are popping up between the older weather-beaten structures.

The Sunsail and Moorings Marsh Harbour base is at the Abaco Beach Resort on the main island of Great Abaco, so we check into the hotel a couple of days early to get ourselves sorted. The kids, of course, find immediate entertainment at the pool while I rig my wing-foil gear on the beach right outside our room, a proper start to the vacation.

Our boat is a Sunsail 454 catamaran, a couple of years old but set up well. The kids get the forward cabins, and the parents claim the aft, all with comfy berths and hatches for sleepy stargazing. The hand­over process is simple, and Sienna, the base manager, gives me a full rundown of cool stuff to do in the Abacos—and what to avoid. So efficient is the checkout that we slip our lines early on the first day of our charter and go on our merry way.

For the first few days, we motorsail northwest, stopping at pristine beaches, anchoring on the calm south side of small cays, taking the tender to the beach, and crossing overland to play in the Atlantic surf on the north side. The kids love the big waves and the excitement of getting swept up and down the beach. They return to the boat covered head to toe in sand, and the benefit of energetic water play is obvious to the parental units: The kids are excited to climb into their berths, making the usual laborious process of bedtime a dream. As soon as they are tucked in, the music, card games and drinks come out.

Scotland Cay is the highlight of our first few days. Knowing next to nothing about it and only discovering it on Google Earth, we anchor outside a big bay surrounded by calm white-sand beaches, except a small cut-through at each end. Here, the kids collect shells and swim while the dads follow two eagle rays gliding in the cut. This alone is one of the most phenomenal things I’ve ever seen in the wild. While following them, we come across a four-by-four ­resting on the bottom, teeming with fish. It is close enough to the surface that we can dive down and touch it. We also discover that we’re anchored right above eight lobster pots, which are full of fish and a couple of small lobsters. After wrestling them to the ­surface—and checking for a while that nobody was coming to claim them—I call my fisherman friend, Alex Sinclair, my teammate and grinder on the US SailGP Team. He informs us we have a hogfish, which will make an awesome dinner.

The next morning, we head for one of the advertised attractions of the Abacos—the swimming pigs. When we do get to them on “No Name Cay,” the mix of reactions among the kids is hilarious. Some love their snouty faces and others run in fear, but it doesn’t take us long to work out they are just smelly hogs that don’t really want to go in the water.

Nunjack Cay is the farthest north we go. Armed with a couple of frankfurters, we head to the beach, where we were told is a good spot to feed stingrays and sharks. There are no sharks, but my wife manages to get the stingrays to eat sausages right out of her hand. The kids are ecstatic when a loggerhead turtle swims past while we’re paddleboarding—­passing by close enough that we can touch its shell. When dolphins leap between the bows as we leave, our interaction with the wildlife proves to be a magical experience for all.

At this point, five days into our charter, we’ve barely used the sails, managing to plan every leg of our trip heading directly into the wind, so we turn south, kill the engines and set sail. In 12 knots of wind, the catamaran cruises easily at 7 knots—no flight controls, no wing to twist, no grinders hammering away. It’s all very relaxing.

As much as I enjoy sailing, it’s not often that I can run a fishing line out the back of the boat, so I spend hours setting up an elaborate system of hooks, lines and bungees and a Red Bull-can alarm system, which turns out to be successful. At times, we have to reduce from two trolls to one, as we are unable to retrieve the fish quick enough. Each time we land a fish, though, I speed-dial Sinclair for a consult. Most of them we release, but we do score one beautiful big snapper, which feeds us royally. Working out how to fillet and cook these things is a challenge none of us had ever faced, but one we all find entertaining.

We connect beach stops on our way south and do a bit of turtle watching in the mangroves from the tender before we pull into Great Guana Cay, where the kids find local children to play with and take full advantage of the restaurant’s bar-side pool. Up to this point, of the 10-plus beaches we’d been to and the 50 or so nautical miles we’d covered, we hadn’t seen another person, unbelievable considering they are some of the nicest beaches we’ve ever visited.

Next up is Hope Town to see the famous lighthouse, refuel, top up the water tanks and lunch at the Hope Town Inn, which gives us a true sense of how friendly the locals are. We are welcomed everywhere with open arms, with one guy even walking us to the supermarket rather than ­directing us.

Tahiti Beach is our next destination, and we’re excited because we’ve seen a lot of pictures. But when we arrive at high tide, there is barely any beach at all. Patience pays off as the tide drops and rewards us with an expansive and deserted white-sand haven loaded with conch shells, starfish and hermit crabs, a few of which would become onboard pets. The Thirsty Cuda Bar and Grill motors up, deploys its floating dining platforms, and serves up frozen drinks, much to everyone’s delight. I use this time to launch the wing-foil gear off the back of the yacht and have a rip across 3 feet of gin-clear water and pearl-white sand below.

A long downwind sail in 20 knots the ­following morning means we’re too fast for fishing, but we cover good distance. We pause at Pelican Cay to give the kids a chance to play in the waves on the beach in this beautiful nature reserve, finding a safe little area where the waves break through the rocks and push eddies and swirls. This amuses the kids—and me—for hours. In the late-afternoon sun, we continue to Little Harbor for the night and find a beautiful small anchorage full of beach bars not yet open for the season.

At first light, we exit the Abaco Sea and make our way to the Abaco Club on Winding Bay, an exclusive club surrounded by beautiful holiday houses, a links golf course, tennis courts and high-end ­restaurants that is kind enough to let us use its facilities for the day. It’s a super-­shallow swimming spot, and here the children master kayaking independently, one of the highlights of their holiday. It gives them that little bit of independence to go off and spot turtles by themselves and leave the mums and dads enjoying warm water, soft sand and tranquility.

By the 10th day, we should be heading back to the base, but we’re having too much fun and extend the trip for two more nights. We take one more sail south into Cherokee Sound to discover the clearest water we have ever seen. At 14 meters deep, it looks as if it is only two.

We have a couple more things we want to tick off the bucket list up north, so we head back to Hope Town for breakfast before returning to our favorite spot in Scotland Cay and to the infamous Nippers Beach Bar and Grill for dinner. This place is super cool, with pastel-colored chairs looking down over Atlantic swells crashing onto empty white-sand beaches for miles. Here we have our first experience with sharks while diving to video a large starfish when four very calm 8-foot bull sharks come to say hello.

We return to Marsh Harbour in a big storm, welcomed with smiles by the soaking-­wet base staff. After searching for our shoes, which we hadn’t seen for 12 days, we transfer to the hotel for one last pool and sleep session.

Since returning to the UK, I’ve had a lot of friends message me about the trip, curious about how much experience they need to charter a boat in the Abacos. It is so straightforward. With two engines positioned far apart, the catamarans are easy to maneuver under power, and the base staff are always reachable should anything need servicing during the charter. The handover process at the base at the beginning and end of the charter is comprehensive, and there is a thorough user manual on board if you forget anything from the briefing. They’ll even take the boat off the dock for you and bring it back at the end if you’d like. One bit of advice is to download the Navionics app on a phone or tablet. The app is useful for finding the shallow spots, researching the locations, and locating a few awesome wrecks just below the surface loaded with fish. A personal favorite is a sunken landing craft with a golf cart on the stern just off Sandy Cay, which you can swim down to and pretend to drive.

For anyone looking for an idyllic ­family holiday, I would absolutely recommend doing a bareboat charter. With sailing experience and basic boat handling know-how, you can explore one of the most picturesque locations in the world, seeing beaches and wildlife accessible only by boat. The Abacos are just getting up and running again, so word to the wise to my sailing friends: Head there now to experience stunning and almost deserted locations. And do it with a bareboat.

The post Shifting Gears in the Abacos appeared first on Sailing World.

It was the second full week of December, and in case any of us needed a reminder as to the time of year, the Christmas winds had Sir Francis Drake Channel in the British Virgin Islands frothing with whitecaps. And, of course, we were bashing straight into them as we left the Mooring’s docks at Wickams Cay on Tortola under power, bound for Deadman’s Bay on Peter Island to scope out a site for a photo shoot later in the week.

The three us aboard the Moorings’ 4500 Baba Jaga that afternoon—Moorings marketing VP Josie Tucci, photographer Jon Whittle, and me—were technically all on the clock. Our job? To have a good weeklong romp through the islands, attend to just enough business to call it a “work trip,” but mostly, confirm that yes, even in a pandemic, the British Virgin Islands are still a sailor’s paradise. So far, they were looking pretty good to me. I’d left frozen Boston a day earlier and arrived on Tortola in time to enjoy a lazy afternoon with a cold beer and late lunch before the sun set, and my mates arrived with their complimentary welcome-to-the-islands rum punches in hand. 

These days, rather than conducting large group briefings, the Moorings asks charterers to watch safety and boat videos before arriving. The upside is that the actual in-­person boat walk-through is short and to the point. So, the next morning, while Tucci met with her team at the base and Whittle worked on videos, in less than an hour, a dockhand showed me how to turn on the 35-gallon-per-hour watermaker, fire up the genset, and where to find breakers and shut-off valves for the water system and heads. 

Next on the agenda was a tour of the Wickams Cay complex with Oliver Kinchin, head of customer operations for the Moorings and sister company Sunsail.

I’d taken a similar tour two years earlier during a visit for the Moorings’ 50th reunion. At that time, the base had just reopened following the devastation caused by hurricanes Irma and Maria, and nearly every structure was a work in progress. This time, it was well on the way to reawakening from what Kinchin called a yearlong “COVID rest,” when the islands were closed to visitors, and boats sat mothballed at the dock.

With travel restrictions easing and charter bookings pouring in, the staff was scrambling to get the fleets back up and running, and also to complete several ongoing post-hurricane improvements to the on-site hotel, a waterside restaurant and other support facilities. 

Our tour included a visit to the new sail loft, which currently is packed with sails and cushions saved from boats lost or damaged by the storms that struck in 2017. The task ahead is to inventory and inspect the contents of hundreds of sail bags to decide what can be saved and what gets tossed. Eventually, a full-service sail and canvas shop will fill the space.

We visited the new-parts warehouse, where row after row of shelves were organized with cubbies and bins holding the countless bits and pieces needed to meet tight turnaround times for several hundred sail and power charter boats. And we took a stroll through what will be a new on-base provisions store once it opens sometime this winter. Factoring in the COVID rest, the progress was impressive.

And then we were off. All it took was a quick call to the ­dockmaster on the VHF, and dockhands appeared, lines were hauled aboard, and we were on our way.

When I visited two years earlier, all the islands bore deep scars from the powerful tropical storms, but Mother Nature had done a remarkable job of repairing things. Approaching Peter Island, the hills were a vibrant green, and the long sandy beach at Deadman’s was as clean as a whistle. It would work just fine as a backdrop for sailing shots of the new Moorings 4200 catamaran, the first of which had just arrived in the islands.

Our stop for the night was Cooper Island. Though several boats were already there, we found an open mooring ball close to shore. Tucci on one bow and Whittle on the other deftly wove their dock lines through the eye of the mooring pendant and cleated them off. That left us with nothing to do but swim, enjoy cold Caribes on the flybridge, and watch gusts dance across the water. In the evening, the Cooper Island Beach Resort’s Rum Bar lured us ashore. Inside we met a couple of charter skippers and their mates from St. Thomas, who were enjoying a last busman’s holiday before a busy winter season catering to guests. But honestly, we had our own work cut out for us choosing what to sample from shelves stacked high with exotic rums from around the world.

The next morning, Wednesday, our little crew cobbled together a rather loose itinerary for the next few days. A sail to Anegada was out. Getting there and back would eat up two days, and besides, at the last minute, Tucci had talked a Florida friend, Trish Gordon, into joining us, and we had to pick her up Thursday night in Trellis Bay. That gave us Wednesday to pay an obligatory visit to the Baths, the iconic rock formations on nearby Virgin Gorda, and then make the run up to North Sound to see what progress was being made rebuilding the Bitter End Yacht Club.

Over breakfast, I took advantage of the onboard Wi-Fi and checked the Windy app on my phone. Wow, we were in for a breezy week. That fact was further confirmed the minute we left the lee of Cooper Island and started bashing headlong into 25- to 30-knot winds and the resulting lumpy seas. 

At the Baths, we grabbed a day mooring, launched the dinghy, and headed for shore. But on the way, we ran into the charter skippers from the night before. They’d just come from the beach, where a long line of tourists from a cruise ship anchored off in the distance waited for their turn to follow the path through the boulders. No way we were up for that COVID party. Instead, we returned to the mothership and resumed our bash north.

To starboard of Baba Jaga, thick clouds loomed over the peaks of Virgin Gorda; behind us, the islands to the south disappeared in a massive squall. Then, by Great Dog, it was our turn to get soaked. My lightweight slicker didn’t stand a chance against the pelting rain that engulfed the boat and sent Tucci and Whittle running for the saloon. Instantly we were surrounded in a whiteout, and I throttled back the diesels so we just crept along through screaming 40-knot gusts. 

It was a fast-moving tempest, though, and I was nearly dry as we ran down the channel into North Sound. Inside, the wind picked up again, and just as we were about to grab a mooring at the Bitter End, the skies opened once more. As we motored in a circle to let it pass, one gust sent the two sun cushions atop the Bimini flying. Whittle caught one, and we had a lively time trying to chase down the other and grab it with a boat hook. Thankfully, a couple of women on a nearby boat jumped into their RIB and retrieved it from the drink for us. And speaking of drinks, I was ready for one by the time we found an open mooring just off the Bitter End’s new dock.

The Bitter End has been a sailor’s playground since it opened in the early 1970s, but the resort, like the one on nearby Saba Rock, was flattened when hurricane-­spawned tornadoes ripped through, leveling anything and everything in their paths. 

It took several months to settle insurance claims, and many more to clean up the carnage, but eventually work began on a new and better Bitter End. When we paid a visit, a “soft opening” was scheduled for the following week.

So far, two overwater bungalows, part of Marina Lofts, have been finished, and plans are to add three more. The small two-story cottages each have their own dock and porch overlooking the harbor, where 72 guest moorings have been installed.

Next to the lofts, the staff was scurrying to put the final touches on the Quarterdeck lounge and restaurant. Much of the wood throughout these buildings, and the rest of the nautical village, was recovered and repurposed by a team of some 70 construction workers. A provisions market, pizza kitchen, boutique and kids play area were also being readied for the first visitors. Resort marketing director Kerrie Jaffe told us that for this winter, the emphasis was on getting the waterfront and marina reopened. Eventually, though, private homes will be built on the 64-acre property.

From the Bitter End, we took the dinghy across the channel to the latest incarnation of Saba Rock resort. It had reopened a couple of months earlier. The first-floor dining room was busy when we pulled alongside the dock that surrounds the building. Upstairs, the open-air bar was bustling too, and of course we had to sample their signature drink, Saba on the Rocks, made from spiced rum, passion-fruit puree, triple sec and orange juice.

The new Saba Rock includes seven guest rooms and three suites overlooking North Sound on one side and Eustacia Sound on the other. They’re pricey—$700 a night in high season—but the views are out of this world.

Thursday, after a morning swim and breakfast, it was time to go sailing. Another day of big trade winds was forecast, but at least it would be from behind us. With two reefs in the main, we traced our tracks back out of the sound, then unrolled two-thirds of the jib as we bore away toward Spanish Town. We stopped there for a stroll and lunch, and then set off on a delightful downwind run to Beef Island and Trellis Bay under just the jib. Alone at the helm, I turned on the autopilot, kicked back, and watched the haze-shrouded islands 5 miles ahead slowly come into focus.

The sun was low in the sky by the time we grabbed one of the last moorings near the airport in Trellis Bay. Scanning the beach, I was pleasantly surprised to find that crews had removed nearly all the damaged boats that had littered the shore on my last visit.

With Gordon aboard and Baba Jaga’s fourth cabin finally filled, we set off bright and early Friday to explore the remaining islands in the chain. We stopped for breakfast at Diamond Shoal, a must-visit snorkeling spot alongside Great Camanoe Island. From there, we hopped around to Monkey Point on Guana Island. On previous trips, this had always been the place to see big swarms of baitfish and tarpon on the prowl, but not this time. After a quick dip, we hoisted the still-double-­reefed main for a lively downwind run to Great Harbour on Jost van Dyke.

Tucci took the helm, and I wandered forward to one of the seats on the bow to take it all in: the towering peaks and valleys on Tortola, the sparkling sunlight, the clouds casting shadows on the water, the wind, the swells. Boy, what a sail.With a hiss, Baba Jaga would catch a wave and ride it until its bows buried in a trough. Then another puff would hit, and we’d take off again. It was definitely a ride to tuck away and revisit on a cold New England night back home.

That evening, a rocking reggae band drew a comfortable-size crowd to Foxy’s, another indication that folks are ready to come back to the islands in search of some fun. We found that true the next morning as well, when we squeezed in behind the reef at White Bay to drop an anchor off the beach. A swell was running and the breeze gusted around the point, so I returned to the boat to stay on anchor watch while the rest of the crew went ashore for Painkillers and lawn games. They even got to watch a wedding take place at the Soggy Dollar and chatted up the newlyweds afterward.

Late in the afternoon, we crossed back to Tortola and Cane Garden Bay. Ashore after sunset, we walked along the waterfront, past restaurants with bonfires burning on the beach in anticipation of the full moon that would soon rise over the mountain. At the end of the sand, we came to a lively scene at a bar and restaurant called the Indigo House. We sat down for drinks at one of the last open tables just as the owner, Valerie Rhymer, tinkled a knife against her glass and announced free shots for everyone in celebration of their first-year anniversary.

Later she and her husband, Kareem, joined us for a chat. She was a Florida girl who came to the BVIs in 1979 and sold boats for the Moorings in the early ’80s. Kareem was from Tortola but had spent several years in the States before returning home and opening Myett’s restaurant and hotel down the bay. For several years while raising their children, they’d lived in the house where we sat. Like so many others, it was destroyed in Irma, but after rebuilding, they decided to open it as a restaurant. So far, business has been good, thanks to loyal local patrons, many of whom work on various charter boats. Between sips of rum, Kareem admitted to feeling good energy now that the islands are coming back to life. He predicted a busy winter season ahead.

On Sunday, our last full day aboard Baba Jaga, we got going early and motored around WestEnd on our way to meet Richard and Shannon Hallett at Peter Island. They run a Moorings crewed charter boat, and it was a day off for them, but they too were on a working holiday, skippering the new 4200 for our photo session. It was still plenty windy, but they hoisted a full main and jib and reached back and forth as we chased along under power. When Whittle had all the photos and drone footage he needed, we tucked into the lee of Round Rock, set sail, and then bore away ourselves for two long jibes to the Bight on Norman Island.

The Willy T was the spot for Sunday sundowners. A steady stream of cruisers and charters came to the ship’s portside ­dinghy dock like moths to a flame. To starboard, the locals arrived in Cigarette boats and multi-engine center-consoles that they rafted alongside. Backflips from the floating bar’s upper deck were the dives of choice for this crowd.

And then, too early, it was time to return to Baba Jaga for one last dinner and a little stargazing on the flybridge.

Monday morning, Whittle hopped aboard with the Halletts to shoot our boat on the sail home to Road Town. Finally, overnight, the Christmas winds had settled down, and we were able at long last to shake the reefs out of the main. It was another outstanding trick at the helm, that close reach back to Wickams Cay. 

Inside the harbor, a Moorings captain came out in an inflatable and jumped aboard to put Baba Jaga back in its slip. And with that, our job was done. We’d successfully navigated travel restrictions, visited the islands, and met many a person looking forward to, if not an entirely normal season, a busy one. And we’d gone sailing. That was the best part. Definitely. We’d gone sailing. 

Pandemic Practicalities

None of or our crew had problems clearing into the BVI. Arriving by air at Beef Island, visitors were taken to a building next to the airline terminal. Inside, officials asked to see proof of vaccination, and a negative test result taken within four days of arrival. Those who had test results within 48 hours were free to proceed to customs. I did not, but rapid tests were available on-site for $50. All of this had been clearly spelled out ahead of time on websites maintained by both the charter company and BVI officials, so we encountered no surprises. In mid-December, masks were required throughout the BVI, and on Tortola, compliance appeared to be universal. On other islands, visitors and locals were more lax, but most activities took place outdoors, and we never encountered any concerning crowds. There were reportedly numerous sites in Tortola to get the required COVID test within 24 hours of returning to the States, but the Moorings and Sunsail had a medical person on-site to perform rapid tests for $125 a piece. Tucci had brought her own home kit, and those results were accepted as well at the airport, where we had to show proof of a negative test to get our boarding passes. To be honest, with a little research ahead of time, travel to the BVI, in my opinion, was no more complicated than it was in pre-pandemic times. Hey, it’s the islands!

Provisioning on the Fly

Our little adventure had been organized at the last minute, so close to our departure date, in fact, that paperwork for the boat and provisioning through the Moorings arrived after the two-week-prior-to-departure deadline for returning it. I went online and ­ordered basic provisions—water, paper goods, beverages and the like—from RiteWay, a supermarket across the road from Wickams Cay. These were delivered to the boat. As I unpacked the boxes, I checked the goods against my order list and found that a few items were missing. The delivery person was nearby, and agreed to return the next day with the rest of the order. • Then, with the gang all there, we drew up a longer shopping list for meats, veggies, snacks and libations, and made a run to the OneMart Superstore, which was recommended by a cab driver. A store employee, Edwin Salapare, picked us up at the charter base, helped us shop, and then back at the dock, he loaded our supplies into a handcart and hauled them to the boat. The staff at the base was happy to arrange for him to come, but one could contact him directly at 284-440-3027. He provided fantastic service, and we tipped accordingly.

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Nothing is quite as valuable as spending time on a specific boat, whether your own or your team’s. Time brings familiarity with the boat and its unique characteristics. But sometimes racing on your boat isn’t practical or possible. Can you create that same level of familiarity with a charter boat you have only just met?

We sat down with George Szabo to learn how he develops a relationship with a charter boat, what gets his attention and what things does he leave alone.

How many charter boats have you used in the past year?

I’ve chartered four different Star boats and four different Snipes. But have chartered many different classes over the years.

Do you bring your own rigging? What other essential items do you bring to events when chartering?

GS: The tools I bring typically fit into a small toiletry bag: two multi-tools, a multi-screwdriver, a small crescent wrench, specific tuning tools for each class, a tension gauge, tape, tape measure, Sharpies, needle and thread, extra screws, yarn, a handsaw, and shackles. We do sometimes bring our Snipe shrouds and spreaders if we think the charter boat may not have the adjustable type we like. This of course isn’t possible with larger boats, but something to consider if you have a specific element you like (assuming you can easily remove and transport). The larger tools are all easy to check in a suitcase within the U.S., but outside of the States it may be easier to borrow them. I am diligent about returning whatever I borrow the moment I am finished to let friends know they can trust me with their tools.

How do make sure the charter will be what you’re used to?

GS: There are two options: you can either measure all equipment and rigging at home, record settings and try to duplicate everything, or you can take the charter equipment as is and try to get the best out of it. I prefer the latter, to spend my time getting familiar with how the boat is already set up.

Do you have any examples of things that went well or didn’t go well with your charter at the recent 2017 Snipe Nationals or Star North Americans?

At the Star North Americans, we put the boat in the water and began to skull the 20 feet from the hoist to the dock. After 10 feet of sculling, the tiller was in my hands because the piece that connected the rudder post to the tiller had broken in half. I was able to replace the piece and was lucky that this had not happened while sailing! That specific occurrence was rare and may only happen every 10 years.

At the Snipe Worlds, we found our mast step was off, so we prioritized moving it to the correct position before the regatta. At another regatta this year, my crew arrived a day earlier than I did and called me with a list of supplies I needed to purchase and bring along. The next day I had wire for a new jib halyard and several other essentials in my hands.

Each charter boat is different, and it takes a significant amount of extra time to put them together. It comes down to being diligent and checking every single piece of rigging in a very short period of time.

You mentioned working with the system the charter boat comes with and learning to get used to what already works for the boat. Is this something you’ve adopted over time because re-rigging is time-consuming?

It comes down to personal style. Some people enjoy rigging and prefer to have specific control line placement with the purchase they are used to. They will spend hours re-rigging a boat. I prefer to figure out where the current controls are and use them as they come. Often a boat will have a series of “add-ons” that, in my opinion, only provide windage, not functional racing benefit. We’ll often remove those and leave them in a box for the owner.

What is the first thing you do when you meet the charter for the first time?

We first look for the essential parts: sheets, rigging, stay masters, shackles, etc. Because people put away their boats in so many different fashions, we often start with an “Easter egg hunt.” When I put a boat away, I like to leave the shrouds and stay masters as connected as possible. This simplifies rigging the boat and it also makes it easier to duplicate the same tuning as the last time you sailed. We have had two charter Stars where everything was completely disconnected; we even had to look through a pile for the correct length shrouds. If something is taped, un-tape it to find out if what has been hidden needs replacing. We search for the necessary safety items – I’m surprised how many boats don’t come with life jackets. We replace any worn lines or bungee cords and cut lines that are excessively long. Finally, we remove any unnecessary weight. Sometimes less is more, and the boat owner may have unknowingly left extra items on board.

Do you prioritize getting the boat setup correct on land or spending more time on the water, or does it differ with each boat?

I estimate three to five hours minimum on land before we can get on the water to look at tuning. After searching through the boat, we retune. It can take a while to get the mast straight from side to side, so I factor in at least the first hour on the water, before any other boats are on the water, tacking from side to side to sight the rig. I also measure the rig every day, no matter which type of boat. This is especially important if the boat hasn’t been sailed in a while because shrouds and lines can take a few days to stretch back out. The process of tuning many different boats has taught me the tuning guide should be used as a guide and that the process of experimentation is healthy. If I charter a fast boat and I know the boat owner has had good results, I will leave the rig as it is to see if I discover something new.

George Szabo is a Quantum sail Consultant out of San Diego. He is a World and National Champion in numerous classes and full of great tips and tricks from his distinguished sailing career. Contact George at gszabo@quantumsails.com.

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