Soundings is the news and feature publication for recreational boaters. Award-winning coverage of the people, issues, events -- and the fun -- of recreational boating. Check out our generous boats-for-sale section and our gunkholing destinations.
There’s something special about the moment you christen a boat with a name. It’s a blend of tradition, superstition and plain old fun. From clever puns to heartfelt tributes, a boat name tells the world a little about the owner. I’m better acquainted with reader David Avedesian, now that he’s shared how he named his boats. The Rhode Island native with a 100-ton license has owned three vessels in his lifetime. “They’ve meant a lot to me,” he says. “In fact, I’ve named two children in less time than it took me to christen my boats.” His first boat was an Evinrude Sweet 16, built by Outboard Marine Corporation in 1964 with a 115-hp outboard on the transom. After much thought, Avedesian landed on a playful moniker that felt just…
Lyman-Morse recently splashed a creative refit of the cold-molded Hood 35 LM Hull No. 2. The boat has new owners, and they tapped the yard to help them reconfigure the deck to better suit their lifestyle. The result: Cymbria boasts living spaces that are more comfortable than ever, yet she maintains the original boat’s performance pedigree and clean design language. The refit focused on improving the express cruiser’s interior functionality. In the cockpit, the original aft bench and sun pad were replaced by a wraparound seating, and the pilothouse gained a wraparound bench to port. It sits opposite the galley, which has been relocated to starboard for better traffic flow. Belowdecks, the layout was updated with a full-length single berth to port and a raised double berth to starboard, to…
Hey, captain, sorry to wake you. Uh, the latest weather came in, and I thought you might want to take a look at it. So, yeah, if you have a chance. Just looking at the forecast and our track line. Thought you might want to take a look at it.” This was the third mate aboard the doomed freighter El Faro, calling down to the captain’s cabin on the night of September 30, 2015. The mate was trying to alert the captain that Hurricane Joaquin had strengthened significantly and was now on track to intercept the ship. The captain held a different view of the situation, making it difficult for him to imagine the magnitude of these developments. He didn’t come to the bridge. At the time of the conversation,…
A dam Nowalsky is a licensed captain who has been chartering boats for more than 25 years. He grew up fishing with his father on a progression of boats that increased in size as he got older. Through high school and college, he worked in local tackle shops and as a mate on charter boats. He bought his first boat, a 26-foot Sea Ox with twin sterndrives, in the late 1990s. Not long after, he saw two Osmond Beal-designed Downeasters. The boats made an impression on him. “Once you see a Downeast boat, it gets in you,” Nowalsky says. “And it stays with you the rest of your life. This boat type blends form and function in a way that speaks to me.” He began to search for a Downeaster…
Osmond Beal was born in 1931, one of eight sons to a father who was a boat-builder on Beals Island, Maine. Four of the Beal boys would go on to become builders too, although Osmond was particularly prolific. According to Beal’s grandson, Erick Blackwood, Beal’s earliest job in his father’s shop was cutting massive oak planks with a handsaw, so they could become keels and ribs. He gained a bodybuilder’s physique and the knowledge to become a builder in his own right. One of the last boats he and his father built together was a 38-footer christened The Swan in 1954. When Beal started his own business, he’d work in a field, frequently shoveling snow out of hulls that were under construction. Beal would tell Blackwood stories about hunkering down…
A striped bass dinner capped off a perfect October day. The swarms of summer renters had disappeared toward New York City, returning Long Island’s Peconic Bay to the locals. My sister and her boyfriend, Walter, were staying the weekend. We were clearing the table when Walter came running into the kitchen, screaming for me to get my boat key. We ran to the dock and untied my Grady White center console as he explained that a small boat had capsized just outside the inlet. About 700 feet past the entrance marker, we saw an old 12-foot Meyers aluminum fishing boat motoring in circles, unmanned, at about 8 knots. We spotted two heads above water, already 20 feet apart, drifting southeast, straight out the channel and into Cutchogue Harbor. They were…
