With a sleeping bag in place, the bunk is ready for the night.
Cruising under sail and oars can be an odd combination of casual relaxation and nonstop intensity. It means uninterrupted time on the water, to be sure—and intimacy with nature and the elements. But the imperative of covering miles to make it to the next safe anchorage, or home, can sometimes involve a relentless focus that can be mentally exhausting. Getting a good night’s sleep is imperative.Sleeping well on board starts with choosing an anchorage wisely, setting a heavy anchor on an appropriate rode, and getting settled early enough to eat well, get organized, and enjoy the evening light. In addition, having a comfortable place to bed down makes all the difference in facing the next day, especially in less-than-sterling weather. I had been sleeping on the floorboards of my 18′ No Mans Land boat, which worked well enough. But my feet were captive under the after thwart, and the space between the centerboard trunk and the side seats was, admittedly, a bit tight. Plus, the floorboards could be damp, or downright wet, from the day’s rain or spray.
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Comments (9)
I would like to see an article about your boat. It seems like you put a lot of thought into it, and made modifications by trial and error.
Thanks for the post. I’ve written about the boat several times, most notably in WoodenBoat No. 235 (“Wood in the Rigging: Making simple fittings for a traditional boat”) and No. 202 (“A Suit of Sails: With no original sail plan, all the options are open”), as well as WoodenBoat‘s Small Boats print edition of 2012 (“The No Mans Land Boat: A challenge with great potential”).
The Small Boats article is generally about the type, plans available for various examples, and my experience of interpreting one of them. The sail article worked on developing eight different viable rigs, and the wooden fittings had to do with thimbles, toggles, blocks, parrel beads, and the like.
What Bob says, Tom. Wow, for some reason I was thinking lengthwise slats. Stowage is easier with the athwartship layout, however being an older guy, I would for sure need a good mattress. I like it. If Nelson slept in one then it’s got to be pretty good.
Is that the No Mans design Robert Baker took lines from? We have a North Shore Dinghy built by Eric Hvalsoe and his class at CWB in Seattle. You should show us your boat, maybe even Maynard’s Coquina. That’s a hoot that Kirby’s is selling a paint color named after him. I guess he is officially an Old Salt now.
Thanks for another great issue.
My boat is the Beetle design, recorded in Plate 63 of H.I. Chapelle’s American Small Sailing Craft. I think it’s the best of the type.
Your opening paragraph Tom, is spot-on. I’d never yet heard it phrased so accurately as you have. As you stated, you’re trying to enjoy yourself, but, to a very great extent, can’t because you know if you don’t make it to the Plan A anchorage you’ve set out for (and don’t have a decent Plan B) it’s going to be a bad night. “Nonstop intensity” and “relentless focus” capture the nature of the dilemma most eloquently. The primary cause of the dilemma, in my opinion, is that you’ve chosen to go out there without a motor. For people with motors (as you look at them enviously pass you by blissfully en route to their Plan-A anchorage), when things go awry, they just lower sails and hit “Direct” on the GPS. For those without motors, having things go awry (too much wind, not enough wind, no wind at all, rough seas, wind coming directly from where Plan A anchorage lies, and aching arms from too much rowing) changes everything. And it’s not enough that you make it to the anchorage before dark. If you plan on having any time at all to sit back and enjoy dinner, you’ve got to get to the Plan A anchorage a good hour and a half before dark, You’ll need 15 minutes to set the anchor, another 15 minutes to nap (to collect your wits and rest your weary bones), and an hour for dinner, cleaning up, and putting boat and self to bed for the night. And many nights, Plan A anchorage just isn’t going to work, once you get there, for any number of reasons, so off you go off to Plan B anchorage, watching the sunset and often going without dinner. Too bad, get over it, you tell yourself, at Plan B anchorage, as you fall asleep thinking about the wonders of food, promising yourself to pick a better Plan A anchorage tomorrow.
Thanks for the observations, Brad. Sailing without an auxiliary is a challenge, but I would argue that the challenge itself is a big part of the enjoyment! It is for me, anyway.
Nice article. As a big Patrick O’Brian fan I was aware of those sleeping “boxes” for a while and always thought they might be an interesting option for space-tight small boats and preferable to standard bunks. I have one of the ultralight “jungle hammocks” that might have an advantage on a small open boat of providing better protection from rain in an open boat (most of them incorporate some sort of pad as well). Maybe use the oars as “trees” at each end of the boat to hang the hammock!
Stringing your hammock up in a small boat might work if you really like being rocked to sleep. I’ve spent a lot of time sleeping in hammocks—the “jungle” kind with mosquito netting and a rain fly—and always try to get in without setting the hammock swinging. I find the motion annoying enough when the hammock’s over solid ground. And don’t like trying to sleep in in a rocking boat. For me, being in a hammock in a small boat at anchor would be a waking nightmare. Hammocks work in large vessels like HMS VICTORY because they roll slowly. I’d suggest stringing the hammock up high enough to support netting and fly, and low enough to allow a fixed platform support your weight.
Christopher Cunningham, Editor, Small Boats Monthly
I think a slung hammock in almost any small boat would be a bad choice, and potentially a dangerous one. The center of gravity is too high in the first place, plus when the hammock swings, your center of gravity swings with it. Any roll would put your weight too far outboard, and the higher up the mast the hammock is anchored, the worse that problem would get, especially in a narrow boat. Also—I guess people have different preferences, but for me the few nights I’ve spent in a hanging hammock (on land) were the most miserable I’ve ever spent.
I would like to see an article about your boat. It seems like you put a lot of thought into it, and made modifications by trial and error.
Thanks for the post. I’ve written about the boat several times, most notably in WoodenBoat No. 235 (“Wood in the Rigging: Making simple fittings for a traditional boat”) and No. 202 (“A Suit of Sails: With no original sail plan, all the options are open”), as well as WoodenBoat‘s Small Boats print edition of 2012 (“The No Mans Land Boat: A challenge with great potential”).
The Small Boats article is generally about the type, plans available for various examples, and my experience of interpreting one of them. The sail article worked on developing eight different viable rigs, and the wooden fittings had to do with thimbles, toggles, blocks, parrel beads, and the like.
What Bob says, Tom. Wow, for some reason I was thinking lengthwise slats. Stowage is easier with the athwartship layout, however being an older guy, I would for sure need a good mattress. I like it. If Nelson slept in one then it’s got to be pretty good.
Is that the No Mans design Robert Baker took lines from? We have a North Shore Dinghy built by Eric Hvalsoe and his class at CWB in Seattle. You should show us your boat, maybe even Maynard’s Coquina. That’s a hoot that Kirby’s is selling a paint color named after him. I guess he is officially an Old Salt now.
Thanks for another great issue.
My boat is the Beetle design, recorded in Plate 63 of H.I. Chapelle’s American Small Sailing Craft. I think it’s the best of the type.
Your opening paragraph Tom, is spot-on. I’d never yet heard it phrased so accurately as you have. As you stated, you’re trying to enjoy yourself, but, to a very great extent, can’t because you know if you don’t make it to the Plan A anchorage you’ve set out for (and don’t have a decent Plan B) it’s going to be a bad night. “Nonstop intensity” and “relentless focus” capture the nature of the dilemma most eloquently. The primary cause of the dilemma, in my opinion, is that you’ve chosen to go out there without a motor. For people with motors (as you look at them enviously pass you by blissfully en route to their Plan-A anchorage), when things go awry, they just lower sails and hit “Direct” on the GPS. For those without motors, having things go awry (too much wind, not enough wind, no wind at all, rough seas, wind coming directly from where Plan A anchorage lies, and aching arms from too much rowing) changes everything. And it’s not enough that you make it to the anchorage before dark. If you plan on having any time at all to sit back and enjoy dinner, you’ve got to get to the Plan A anchorage a good hour and a half before dark, You’ll need 15 minutes to set the anchor, another 15 minutes to nap (to collect your wits and rest your weary bones), and an hour for dinner, cleaning up, and putting boat and self to bed for the night. And many nights, Plan A anchorage just isn’t going to work, once you get there, for any number of reasons, so off you go off to Plan B anchorage, watching the sunset and often going without dinner. Too bad, get over it, you tell yourself, at Plan B anchorage, as you fall asleep thinking about the wonders of food, promising yourself to pick a better Plan A anchorage tomorrow.
Thanks for the observations, Brad. Sailing without an auxiliary is a challenge, but I would argue that the challenge itself is a big part of the enjoyment! It is for me, anyway.
Nice article. As a big Patrick O’Brian fan I was aware of those sleeping “boxes” for a while and always thought they might be an interesting option for space-tight small boats and preferable to standard bunks. I have one of the ultralight “jungle hammocks” that might have an advantage on a small open boat of providing better protection from rain in an open boat (most of them incorporate some sort of pad as well). Maybe use the oars as “trees” at each end of the boat to hang the hammock!
Stringing your hammock up in a small boat might work if you really like being rocked to sleep. I’ve spent a lot of time sleeping in hammocks—the “jungle” kind with mosquito netting and a rain fly—and always try to get in without setting the hammock swinging. I find the motion annoying enough when the hammock’s over solid ground. And don’t like trying to sleep in in a rocking boat. For me, being in a hammock in a small boat at anchor would be a waking nightmare. Hammocks work in large vessels like HMS VICTORY because they roll slowly. I’d suggest stringing the hammock up high enough to support netting and fly, and low enough to allow a fixed platform support your weight.
Christopher Cunningham, Editor, Small Boats Monthly
I think a slung hammock in almost any small boat would be a bad choice, and potentially a dangerous one. The center of gravity is too high in the first place, plus when the hammock swings, your center of gravity swings with it. Any roll would put your weight too far outboard, and the higher up the mast the hammock is anchored, the worse that problem would get, especially in a narrow boat. Also—I guess people have different preferences, but for me the few nights I’ve spent in a hanging hammock (on land) were the most miserable I’ve ever spent.