Commodore's Column - August 2007

by Tom Sokoloski
Catalina 36 International Association

According to company literature, the Catalina 36 officially has seven berths. Most owners, on the other hand, would say that their boats “Party eight, dine four, and sleep two, thank you.” On the rare occasion, maybe, just maybe, one might try to cram more than four or five into the cabin for a weekend of cruising, but the logistics of packing food, gear, and personal items into a seemingly voluminous cabin become daunting. So why would an otherwise sane and reasonable skipper agree to invite another family of four to join his family of four, for a weekend? Sometimes I still wonder. A number of years ago (the memory is still fresh), the admiral and I invited good friends of ours to join us for a long weekend of sailing. Two couples and four kids. It should be lots of fun, right? So where exactly do eight people sleep on a Catalina 36? Well, actually, it’s rather simple. One set of parents in the V-berth, one set of parents in the aft cabin. And then for the young ‘uns….we simply stack them up like cordwood in the main salon. See, I told you it’s easy!
The weekend began at 0900 hours on Saturday. Our guests arrived with two coolers, three bags of groceries, and four large duffel bags (at least they remembered not to bring steamer trunks!) A spot was found for everything they brought….barely. Who cares if the “luggage” is piled up to the ceiling? Within minutes shoes and other personal items are thick enough to wade through on the cabin sole. We’re having fun, aren’t we? Lifejackets for the kids, a quick tour of the boat, including the workings of a marine head, suntan lotion for all, and we’re off. We sailed from our home port of Mystic, CT to Block Island, RI. Roughly twenty miles and the weather was relatively calm. Everyone got a turn at the wheel, and nobody was lost overboard. So far, so good. Once anchored at Block, we realized you cannot possibly fit eight bodies into an inflatable, even if four of them are little people. Two trips ashore for everything we want to do. A little inconvenient, but not a big deal. Restaurants can accommodate large groups, so off to shore we trek, and a wonderful evening was had by all. No dishes to wash, no cleanup, and everyone can eat what they want. We return to the boat well fed and sleepy. Late enough for bedtime? Of course it is! While the kids drift off to slumberland, the adults share a drink in the cockpit. Not a bad first day. The next morning arrives VERY early, and breakfast for eight is quite the affair. The food is practically inhaled. How can such little bodies eat so much? The plan for the day is to head to the beach. Let’s pack lunches, drinks, towels, lotion, blankets, snacks, beach toys and all the other mandatory ingredients for a successful day at the beach. Two trips in a very full dinghy and the invasion force had landed on the beachhead. Warm sun, clear skies, soft sand, gentle waves…hey, this isn’t that bad. By the middle of the afternoon, the troops had had enough. Time to head back to the mother ship. The captain quickly begins to speculate how much water is required for eight cockpit showers. Will we have enough to wash dishes after dinner? To brush our teeth? Time for the water-Nazi to take command! Both hot and warm water run out long before the captain takes his turn under the nozzle. Oh well, so it goes. Now it’s time to put three good cooks (I’ll abstain from that claim) into a “one-butt galley”. Add a flock of hungry little mouths hovering nearby, and the cabin is a madhouse. The captain escapes to the foredeck for a few seconds of sanity. A few moments later, shouts are heard from the stern. I quickly look around, and see no bodies floating in the water. No smoke or flames pouring out of the galley. The dinghy is still attached and floating. Better yet, Julandra is still floating. We are not drifting down on another boat. What can the problem be? The shouting slowly transforms into accusations. It appears that the flame under the soon-to-be-sumptuous meal has gone out. Not to fear: the captain knows where the spare tank of CNG is stored, and relative peace is restored. Soon the aromas coming from the galley are intoxicating. By unanimous decision the kids are fed first. They eagerly wolf down their meals around the table in the main salon. Adults are sipping adult beverages in the cockpit, enjoying the setting sun and a few moments of quiet. Jimmy Buffett tunes can be heard blaring from a sports fisherman a few hundred yards away. Nearby, an older couple enjoy a quiet dinner together in the cockpit of an even older ketch. Laughter is heard from the cockpit of a large sloop, its stern surrounded by bobbing dinghies, and its waterline submerged by the weight of the happy guests. Aboard Julandra the kids are introduced to one of the many board games kept for just such a purpose. The adults enjoy a fine meal, accompanied by a fine wine, and toast each other’s good health. All good things must come to an end, and as the board game degenerates into bedlam, we know the bewitching hour has arrived. The table is dropped, and the sleeping bags are lined up. After a few pokes and elbows, all is quiet below. The adults are not far behind. It has been a long day, with new experiences for everyone, including the captain. The wind has died to a whisper, and the lights of the three marinas reflect off the water. The tranquility is wonderful.
Monday dawns cloudy, and the wind is picking up. Off in the distance we hear “Andiamo, Andiamo!” the familiar voice of Aldo’s Bakery, hawking his tasty treats throughout the harbor. Of course we have to have some. It just wouldn’t be a total Block Island experience if we didn’t. We want to be lazy, but the weather says otherwise. Up comes the anchor, and on go the lifejackets. Soon we are on a close reach back to Watch Hill, with the leeward rail often kissing the tops of the waves. The kids sit up to windward, and giggle with delight when a rogue wave sends spray up and over them. The current is with us and we fly through Watch Hill Passage. As we approach Mystic, in the lee of Fisher’s Island, the seas are flatter, and it is time to reflect. Our guests are marveling at how well the boat sails. Petty arguments and cross words are forgotten. Highlights of the weekend are remembered and recorded in the log book. Despite what the literature says, and perhaps common sense may say, I guess you CAN sleep eight in a Catalina 36, and have a great time doing it, too!
Hope you’re having a great summer.