Inside the Cruising Catamaran Life: A Veteran Couple’s Two-Hulled Journey
Legions of cruisers have zero interest in a two-hulled boat (and please, do not call catamaran hulls “pontoons”). Traditionalists, wooden-boat aficionados, weekend club racers, folks with limited mooring space and tight boat-buying budgets—nope, not them. Happy where they are.
We can relate. My wife, Harriet, and I grew up staunch monohullers. Our respective parents owned a herd of single-hulled boats, from racing dinghies to cruiser/racers. The names of monohull legends, from America’s Cup winners to circumnavigators, are imprinted in both of our consciousnesses. Back in the day, those were real sailors. Those were real boats.
But times and needs and boats change, and in 2008, Harriet and I converted to a cat. Before that, I had sailed, in the course of boat reviews for sailing magazines, more than two dozen cruising cats from 30 to 57 feet, production and custom, from fast carbon cats to oceangoing cruisers to charter cats. Now, Harriet and I have owned and sailed our 46-foot performance-cruising Dolphin 460 Ocean for 14 years and 55,000 miles.
Does this make me an expert on catamarans? Nah. But it does give me an understanding of the diversity of cats and their capabilities.
They come in an array of sizes, shapes, purposes and prices. Here’s a look at the advantages and drawbacks, and what to look for when making the leap.
The Safety Question
The tiresome, long-running monohull-versus-catamaran safety debate boils down to opposing bumper stickers: “Monos can sink.” “Cats can flip.”
Sure, disaster can happen, but it usually doesn’t. I do admit that early on, I was highly skeptical of the stability of catamarans. Monohulls have ballast keels, and cats have…buoyancy? How is that going to stop the boat from capsizing?
The first time I sailed a 45-foot cat and a 20-knot gust hit, I braced myself, my hands white-knuckled on the wheel: Oh! Here we go! But all that happened was that the sails loaded up, the boat heeled a few degrees, and we went faster.
The tremendous stability of a cat must be experienced to be believed, understood and appreciated. Working on deck is pretty darn safe. A cat barely heels—4 degrees maximum—and it doesn’t bounce around overly much or suffer knockdowns. Through blasts of wind and steep seas that would have slapped down or broached a similar-size monohull, our 46-foot cat stayed solidly on two wheels.
I’m now a believer in the “secret” of a cruising catamaran’s stability: buoyancy leveraged by wide beam. That said, you need to exercise seamanship when heading offshore in a cat. Mostly that means shortening sail—taking your foot off the gas—when the wind builds.
Like most cruising cats, if Ocean were holed, we would likely swamp but not sink—the boat has three watertight crash bulkheads in each hull, plus several sealed, watertight sections beneath the cabin sole, as well as an emergency high-capacity crash pump that we can deploy into whichever hull needs it. On a cat, there’s also the built-in safety factor of two engines and two rudders. Break one, and you’ve still got a built-in backup. The more we cruised our cat, the riskier we viewed heading offshore in a monohull, which can sink in a few minutes and has only one engine and one rudder.
The Speed Question
A cat’s speed potential is dependent mostly on its sail-area-to-displacement ratio
—the lighter the boat and the more sail it carries, the faster it can go. And of course, high-tech, carbon-fiber weight-saving construction will cost you more money.
In a typical foam-cored fiberglass cruising cat, you can make passages 20 percent to 30 percent faster than a similar-length, well-equipped cruising monohull. On Ocean, we averaged mostly 8 knots on ocean passages, without pushing the boat by carrying a lot of sail or straining our mom-and-pop crew. Like most doublehanded cruisers, we often reef the sails, especially in boisterous seas, to ease the motion. Still, our cat’s ability to knock off the miles without knocking out her crew is impressive.
That said, we’ve met plenty of cat owners who are satisfied with 5-knot passages. Speed is exciting, but it’s secondary to a comfortable ride. They just enjoy getting from A to B without heeling, rolling or yawing
But what about windward performance? Without daggerboards, a cruising cat’s performance to windward is poor. Mini keels don’t do enough to reduce leeway. On a performance cruising cat with deep daggerboards (on Ocean, our boards-down draft is 7 feet, 6 inches), windward ability is far better—but it’s usually still a bit shy of a similar-pedigree cruising monohull, oftentimes due to poor setup of the backstay-less rig or sails that are less than wonderful. Even a well-equipped cruising cat points lower than a well-designed cruising monohull, but a cat can make up its velocity-made-good deficit by sailing faster through the water.
In 15 to 18 knots of wind, Ocean sails at 7.5 to 8.5 knots and makes good a 100-degree tacking angle, as measured by our GPS course over ground. Of course, most of the cat cruisers we’ve met own daggerboard-less cats, and they’re happily crossing oceans and exploring coastal areas—even though their boats don’t go to windward like a 12-Metre. One final thought on this scenario: With most of the world’s cruising routes downwind, how much windward ability do you need?
The motion of a cat can be summed up with one word: different. A monohull’s rhythmic roll, heel and yaw are familiar to all of us. A cruising cat serves up an alternative palette of motion: up, down, sideways, forward and aft.
And like the feline that shares its name, a cat’s moves are quick and unpredictable, but they are small in amplitude. This means that rowdy sea conditions which send coffeepots and bodies flying on a monohull probably won’t spill your latte on a cat. Sailing upwind in windy, choppy stuff, a cat’s motion is a kind of quick thrusting, coupled with occasional sessions of hobbyhorsing—not something you want to treat yourself to all day. But thanks to rounded hull sections, at least a cat doesn’t pound. As far as heel, you’ll get 4 degrees; in 12 knots, 20 knots, 30 knots—you’ll heel 4 degrees. This is something that is very easy to get used to.
Downwind, cat life is good. A cat does not roll, and the two widely separated and relatively narrow hulls minimize yawing. Unlike the corkscrewing of single-hulled boats, cats exhibit good directional stability. Monohull sailors are inevitably disappointed with a cruising cat’s lack of “feel” on the helm, but two hulls do make the autopilot’s job easier.
A cat is not a magic-carpet ride, however. In breezy conditions and rough seas on the beam, the motion can turn hyper: a quick dip to leeward, bounce up and straddle the wave, a quick bit of heel to windward on the backside, then lather, rinse, repeat. Harriet and I have both been seasick on Ocean, and each time it’s because we’ve been driving too fast on a bumpy road. Reefing eases the ride.
When moving fast, cats are noisier belowdecks than monohulls because water is rushing past two hulls instead of one. And many cats suffer—given rough and confused sea conditions—the thunderclap of chop smacking the wide, flat panels of the underside of the bridge deck. At first, the sound is alarming. With experience, it becomes an occasional annoyance.
But it’s never a danger to a cat’s structure. The bridge deck is a major structural component of a cruising cat and is strongly built. A high bridge deck avoids the “booms,” but how high is high enough? Ocean’s is about 27 inches high, which I consider an acceptable minimum. Cats with bridge decks nearly kissing the water at anchor have crews who are in for a noisy ride offshore.
When the wind dies or stays stubbornly on the nose, cats make good “powerboats.” For best fuel economy, cats usually run only one engine at a time, and use both engines only when punching into chop. Ocean powers at 7 knots with one engine at cruising speed (2,400 rpm), 8 knots with both engines, and 9 knots with both engines at full throttle.
Cats are stable platforms under power (it is not necessary to have the mainsail up to stop the boat from rolling). And two engines enable twin-screw handling when docking.
The Liveaboard Question
The wow factor of catamaran interiors turns boat-show tire-kickers into instant converts. Look at this! Everyone gets their own stateroom! We’ll put the grandkids in the other hull. The galley is huge. Indoor dining or alfresco? This boat is beyond liveaboard. It’s work-aboard.
It’s all true. And once that reality of space, space, wide-open space with a wraparound water view grabs you, it might be tough to go back to monohull life and its comparatively cramped cabins.
Cruising cats have about 60 percent to 70 percent more usable living space than same-length monohulls—and with the trend to ever-rising freeboard, that percentage is going up. Cats encourage living instead of camping. Staterooms can be repurposed to suit your lifestyle (on Ocean, we have his-and-hers office spaces). The wide, flat areas of cats can accommodate large solar arrays. The raised helm station, especially from a cockpit perch well above the deck, gives a commanding view. The safe and secure between-the-sterns dinghy davits make hoisting the tender onto the foredeck one of yesteryear’s chores.
Interior space must be treated carefully. A cat can carry a full payload, but there is truth to the cliché “overload a cat and it becomes a dog.”
Cruisers spend 99 percent of their time at anchor, and this is when cats shine. They do not roll; when the dinner plates go flying on the monohull anchored next door, the worst you’ll get is a waddle. At anchor or on a mooring with a bridle led to the tip of each bow, cats barely “sail.” On Ocean, we rode out a gale on a mooring to leeward of a 44-foot performance cruising monohull. While they tacked continually through 140 degrees, sailing back and forth, heeling to each gust, we tacked through about 30 degrees and stayed flat.
And yes, a cat can carry a full cruising payload, but there is truth to the cliché “overload a cat and it becomes a dog.”
A cat’s bonanza of interior space must be treated carefully. Too much weight sabotages a cat’s high-end-speed potential. Gain too much weight, and you’ll still be sailing faster than most monohulls, but double-digit speeds will become elusive. So you’ll need to restrain your hoarding three-spares-of-everything tendencies.
On 46-foot Ocean, even as we’ve added heavy equipment (four anchors and chain, a 1,400-amp-hour AGM battery bank, a washing machine, a watermaker, a hydronic heating system, and more), we are continually housecleaning to reduce weight and starve the clutter monster.
The Cost Question
There’s a parable about a crafty old yacht broker who, whenever a smitten boat buyer asked, “How much will it cost?” parried with, “How much do you have?”
I will add three caveats to that. First, a catamaran will cost more than you might expect. Second, it’s easy to “overcat” yourself. And third, when shopping for cats, do not use length to compare cats and monohulls. Instead, compare them by capability.
Comparing by capability means, to use a simple example, that in order to get a 45-foot cat’s four double-berth en suite staterooms in a single-hull package, you’d be looking at a 60-footer. Conclusions like this will lead you to a fundamental cost question: What do I need in a boat? Do I need lots of staterooms and showers and sunbeds for a stream of family and friends? Or do I just need a boat for the two of us, with occasional guests? Do I need scuba tanks, a dedicated workshop or office space, a large, high-powered inflatable with a wakeboard, a margarita fountain, a hot tub, a helipad?
Keep in mind that if you overcat yourself, you’ll be purchasing a lot of stuff of every description—hatches, ports, pumps, gaskets, O-rings, switches, sensors, motors, hoses, wiring, varnished trim and passwords—most of which you won’t be using regularly but will be tasked with maintaining regularly.
Going smaller and simpler is one way to trim costs. Most catamarans for offshore use are 40 feet and over. Smaller cats are constrained by bridge-deck clearance; achieving standing headroom in the main cabin means raising the freeboard or lowering the bridge deck, or both. A cat under 40 feet will certainly work, and many are successfully cruising, but the sweet spot for long-distance and liveaboard cruising is over 40 feet, if your budget can stretch.
Two Hulls, Second Thoughts?
Harriet and I have yet to meet any cat sailors who want to go back to a monohull.
The first time we went long-distance cruising, in the 1980s, we sailed a 15,000-mile, three-quarter Pacific circle on a heavy-displacement, full-keeled fiberglass cutter. Later, we jumped to a J/32, a modern coastal cruiser. About eight years after that, we decided to go ocean cruising again, and we approached with an open mind the question of which type of boat to get. After a lot of research, which included hands-on testing of new and used cruising monohulls and catamarans, we chose two hulls—and we are glad we did.
But since then, we’ve found there’s an inevitable ignorance and prejudice that cat owners run up against. Some veteran cruisers still refer to cat hulls as “pontoons” and shake their heads: “I could never get a cat. They just aren’t real boats.”
Then again, most monohull sailors are curious, if cautious, about cats. They wonder, while trying to sift through anti-cat myths and pro-cat hyperbole, about these odd-looking craft.
Cat sailors, meanwhile, know that there is a new way to go cruising. We know that it is possible to sail flat and fast and safely, and to cruise with most of the comforts of home.
Thinking about making the leap? Begin the voyage with an open mind.
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