Like the Pardey’s other how-to books, The Capable Cruiser is a bargain—the cost of the book is insignificant compared to the value of the advice it contains.
            Lin and Larry Pardey write from a body of experience which is probably unequalled, at least among those who write about it. Their focus is on liveaboard voyagers who, like themselves, must be concerned about cost. It is this constant emphasis on practicality and sensible decision-making that makes their books so interesting and so far removed from typical travelogue-style writing.
            For liveaboards, day to day life is in some ways more closely akin to that of the merchant sailors of old than to the vacations of well-to-do yachtsmen. While merchant sailors daily sought to maximize profits, liveaboards strive daily to maximize independence. A few dollars saved in the life of the liveaboard means a few hours less time they must spend in the workaday world, and a consistent, effective, and businesslike approach to the shipboard economy is both part of the enjoyment of living aboard and one of its requirements.
            This professionalism characterizes the Pardey’s how-to writing, and fills the reader with a justified confidence that I have never felt in the work of writers who merely compile and repeat conventional wisdom, much of it ultimately serving the advertisers in marine publications. The authors’ subject matter is fresh, specific, and original, and they don’t seem to pad their writing with material that is not based on their own experience, unlike some who want to believe they have covered their subject in its entirety—an impossibility in the world of boats!
            The Pardeys are not extremists. Minimalism and simplification are tools they use to create positive experiences, freedom, and flexibility in their plans. When it’s time to splurge a little, they do, but they get a lot out of it. Even wealthy yachtsmen would do well to read everything the Pardeys write before they go off voyaging, for, while they might have the ability to solve many problems with the wave of a checkbook they cannot re-create time that is lost to needless repairs or long waits for parts, or to frustration over the failure of systems they have not considered how to live without.
            The Capable Cruiser is in some ways all about this philosophy, but primarily it is an anthology of succinct and specific articles about practical subjects. Those who seek cruising stories should look to the Pardey’s excellent accounts of some of their cruises. The first section, “Preparing to Go” covers choosing a boat, cruising costs, children, medical preparations, and insurance. There is some overlap with The Cost Conscious Cruiser, which expands on some of these subjects, but much of it does stand alone.
            The second section is all about gear, and discusses a number of subjects that I have not previously seen addressed in print. Among the chapters is one about positive flotation, with an emphasis on emergency flotation of heavier cruising boats through the use of inflatable bladders. At the time of writing the authors had not installed such a system despite thorough study. It is a shame that this excellent idea has not, as far as I know, seen much development over the several years since this book was written. As the Pardeys point out, it would a fairly complicated product to develop and market, with a very small potential customer base, so there is little incentive for capital to gravitate toward the idea. Maybe someone else will take it up, perhaps with the emphasis on owner-designed and –built systems made of already-available components. I could think of worse places for some government grant money to go.
            The book’s involved discussion about flotation for heavy displacement vessels should not hide the important points made in its briefer treatment of light displacement vessels. The lighter a yacht’s displacement, the less flotation is needed to support her in an emergency, and therefore, the more practical that flotation becomes. In lighter boats the emphasis swings from bladders inflated in an emergency toward permanently-installed foam, an inherently simple, low-cost, and reliable solution. I have had two small, light-displacement cruising sailboats with foam flotation, and the storage space lost to it was insignificant, particularly when compared to the peace of mind that was gained. I might not pick a light displacement boat for offshore voyaging due to its more tiring motion, but this ability to easily achieve “unsinkability” is one of the strongest arguments for the type. Certainly this option should weigh against the multihull enthusiast’s criticism of self-righting but sinkable ballasted vessels.
            There is discussion of Taleisin’s staysail, and its role in her rig as a whole, with advice on how to add a similar sail to other yachts. The rigs that were used on both Taleisin and the Pardy’s earlier Serrafyn are unusual in several respects, and I hope the authors will someday discuss the whole rig in detail, if they have not done so already in a source I have not seen. In general the most unusual characteristics of the rig are its emphasis on light air performance, its very long bowsprit, and its adaptability to changing conditions. The bowsprit is a practical way to create a large rig without an excessively tall mast, and because the yacht will balance under staysail and main, it is not necessary to set a sail from it in heavy weather, thus eliminating concerns about going out on a bowsprit in poor conditions.
            The Pardeys choose not to have an auxiliary engine, which places an obvious emphasis on performance under sail throughout the range of wind speeds including very light air. My opinion is that this is the correct emphasis on auxiliary voyaging yachts as well. Modern diesels are very dependable, but there are any number of mishaps that can shut one down, and if the budget is very small or you are in a remote area, performance under sail is then all you have. The ability to sail in minimal wind can be as important to safety as the ability to handle storm conditions.
            The Pardeys mention that they would always put a strong emphasis on windward performance. This might require a bit of clarification. What I think they mean is they recommend a vessel that can reliably escape a lee shore in heavy weather, and which can drive to windward day after day when necessary, making reasonably good time with as little wear and tear on the crew as possible. This is a far cry from the type of “windward performance” emphasized in racing fleets and some coastal cruisers. The Pardey’s yachts have both been beamy, heavy-displacement, long-keeled cutters. The hulls emphasize motion dampening, stability, and ease of control, while the rigs emphasize power and ease of handling along with the inherent weatherliness of their basic configuration.
            There are chapters on tenders, emergency preparations, folding bicycles, maintenance, working aloft, and making money through writing and photography. The latter offers very good advice, though it was written before the era of digital cameras, and I for one am torn between my desire for simplicity and my adoration of my laptop computer and digital camera, both of which so much ease the writer’s job while at the same time they demand a source of power and are vulnerable to the marine environment. We are starting to see supposedly waterproof examples—if they come down in cost maybe they will prove practical for the liveaboard writer.
            One of my favorite chapters is entitled, “Cut the Shouting out of Sailing”. The Pardeys are mostly writing about the on-board atmosphere, but I would add that I did notice long ago how boats make an impression on those around them, based partly on the amount of noise made by their crews. If as a boat approaches you hear a lot of shouting, especially angry or confused shouting, you really question the competency of the crew, and might be forgiven for rushing to grab fenders and the boathook. The yacht which silently appears in the anchorage and slowly and calmly goes about her business, perhaps without a single audible word, creates an entirely different impression. I didn’t grow up in a family of yellers, and my first exposure to skippers who screamed at their crews was shocking to me. I think yelling at one’s crew, especially friends, spouses, and family, is one of the most common and senseless mistakes that people make, especially men (many of whom will then complain that their families won’t sail with them). I simply never go sailing twice with people who yell. My partner and I have hand signals for those operations like anchoring, mooring, and setting and striking sails, when one of us will be forward and one aft, and while the Pardeys aren’t always that formal about it, they’re surely right, a shouting-free life is more enjoyable. I should also point out that they urge forgiveness of those who shout.
            There’s a good section on ground tackle, with an appropriate emphasis on better and heavier gear, and a lot of important and useful details not often brought together in one place.
            There are chapters dealing with specific disasters and near-disasters that contain a lot of rarely-repeated wisdom.  I really appreciate the authors’ willingness to cover negative occurrences. My favorite of these is an in-depth analysis of the famous Cabo San Lucas disaster, in which a large number of cruising yachts were driven ashore and destroyed in a brief but severe storm.
            The Pardeys were not at Cabo when the disaster occurred. They flew in afterwards to talk with the crews about what had taken place, and to distill by consensus whatever lessons could be learned from it. This must have been somewhat difficult to write about, as they were in the position of analyzing other people’s mistakes. In many cases the Pardeys’ philosophy and decisions would probably have been different and would probably have put them among those who escaped relatively unscathed. As a result I think they have deliberately been somewhat unemphatic about the lessons to be learned. As famous as they have become, the authors are always humble, and have gone out of their way to avoid the appearance of arrogance. I am under no such stricture, so I would like to point out a couple of the most important lessons that I see in the Pardey’s account.
            One is the eternal importance of sea room. Some of the boats at Cabo were too close to the beach and many were too close to each other to make escape possible in the sudden, severe, and atypical onshore blow. There is a herd instinct that most of us carry, leading us to imitate others for perhaps no better reason than to avoid imagined disparaging remarks. How much wiser it is to approach a strange anchorage as though it was empty, making one’s decision about where to anchor based on one’s own reasoning rather than the belief that everyone else must know better—especially when to follow the crowd means to be very close to shore and in a very crowded area, as was the case at the appealing Cabo San Lucas waterfront.
            The boats that were not destroyed tended to be the boats that put to sea as soon as the anchorage became untenable. As the change in conditions was very rapid, this put a premium on readiness, including the ability to quickly buoy and slip their anchor rodes rather than take the time to haul them up.
            Due to sand in the agitated water, which shut down many engines’ cooling systems, and numerous floating lines that fouled many propellers, the boats that had the best luck escaping the shore were the ones that could and did make sail rather than trying to get out under power. The Pardeys couldn’t very well harp on this subject because, of course, they have no engine and must always be ready to make sail on a moment’s notice, so all things being equal they would have been among those with the best chance of escaping the anchorage. Would many fewer boats have gone ashore if they had had no engines? From the account, I would say yes, even if Lin and Larry are too polite to say so. For me (and for them, I’m sure) the point is not that one should not have an engine, but that one should always be ready to make sail on a moment’s notice, and should be prepared to recognize situations where it is best to do so, maybe with the motor idling in neutral ready to use (a line in the prop may not just stop the engine—it may re-anchor the boat stern to the wind until it is cut, which might be enough to put the yacht ashore). It may also be worth pointing out that whenever one is powering in bad weather, sails reduce the boat’s pitching and rolling, and thus make the prop more effective. Likewise, especially with a divided rig, sails can be used to steer and maneuver the boat at slow speeds when the rudder is not very effective, and can help hold the boat’s head up to the wind.
            Another of my favorites among the book’s topics is the anchor light, a legally-required item that is often neglected. The new breed of low-draw electric anchor lights, developed since the Pardey’s wrote this chapter, will probably displace many of the kerosene lamps that the authors and I love for both their practicality and their pleasing qualities, but I will always feel that one of life’s great pleasures, and part of the very soul of cruising, is in rowing up to a small yacht that is one’s home, lit by the warm glow of her trustworthy kerosene anchor light.
            The Pardeys both write in a clear and enjoyable style that makes their books particularly good reading. Few who read The Capable Cruiser will care about some habitual misspellings and other minor copy editing problems that it contains. Some will, like me, be momentarily confused by the appendix, which oddly enough serves to update not this book but rather The Self-Sufficient Sailor, chapter by chapter. Lin and Larry have each written parts of the book, and it is not always possible to tell who is speaking. This is never a serious problem, but I did chuckle at one point when I thought Larry was writing until the author pointed out that the most practical garment for the conditions was a “diaphanous wrap-around sarong”.
            This book is a treasure trove of sound advice. I’m grateful to have it, and recommend it highly.  $24.95  (Reviewed by Daniel B. MacNaughton)