Wharram catamaran

Wharram catamaran DEFAULT

In the mid 50's, based on his research into ancient Polynesian boat design, James Wharram built the first off-shore Catamaran in Britain and sailed it out into the Atlantic. While the world's yachting community were still dismissing such a design as a worthy sea-going vessel, James was landing his 23'6" 'Double Hulled Canoe' called TANGAROA in the West Indies.

There he built a second 40' Polynesian style Catamaran, RONGO, and sailed it up to New York and back to the UK accompanied by two German women - being the first to sail a catamaran West-to-East across the North Atlantic. These amazing Trans-Atlantic crossings and the follow up book "Two Girls, Two Catamarans" have etched the name 'James Wharram' into the annals of yachting history.

Since then, James Wharram has been designing, building and sailing offshore catamarans longer than any other multihull designer. James is a "hands-on" designer having, over his lifetime, built personally many of the prototype designs. These prototypes were built in the open, in barns, workshops and all the range of building sites available to self-builders, in a variety of climate types from northern European to the Tropics. James is now often referred to as a 'Living Legend' or as written in 'Yachting Monthly' in January 2006: "James Wharram is considered by many to be the father of modern multihull cruising."

Sours: https://www.wharram.com/

Catamaran Man: James Wharram

Next time you climb on board a Lagoon in the Caribbean or spy a Prout bobbing in the harbor, spare a thought for James Wharram. Though this somewhat froward Englishman won’t thank me for saying so, he is partly responsible for both—and indeed, all the other modern catamarans now sprouting like Sargasso weed among the world’s warm-water cruising grounds. As a designer of Polynesian double-hulled sailing craft (he hates the word “catamaran”) with more than 10,000 sets of design drawings sold, he has arguably done more to popularize the multihull than anyone else.

His distinctive home-build boats can be spotted on the water from Maine to Melbourne, but at the tail end of a career spanning more than 60 years, he is, at last, starting to slow down—as I learn when I catch up with him at his home on Devoran Creek, Cornwall, where we naturally start with a cup of tea.

“Never get involved with young women, because they grow up and dominate you,” he warns me with a twinkle in his eye. As he imparts this sage advice in a hearty Lancashire accent, his partner of 50 years, Hanneke Boon, is clattering about in the kitchen next door, looking for some cake. He wriggles his toes in thick woolen socks, resting his long legs on a low table in the sitting room. Through the windows behind him, the twin hulls of Mana, his latest design, bob gently on the chop.

It’s not true, of course. Here is a man who has repeatedly become involved with much younger women and done very well out of it. Hanneke is the longest serving, but it started with two Germans: Ruth Merseburger and Jutta Schultze-Rohnhof, with whom Wharram embarked on the grand experiment that has turned him into a somewhat impecunious, but widely celebrated and controversial designer.

This is a story that begins in Manchester, England, in the turbulent years after the Second World War. While studying to become a building engineer like his father, James had come across Eric de Bisschop’s book about building a Polynesian double canoe (Kaimiloa) and sailing it from Honolulu to Cannes in 1936-37. Using the model of a fishing canoe in the British Science Museum and de Bisschop’s scant descriptions, he built the 23ft 6in catamaran Tangaroa in his parents’ garden in Manchester, miles from the sea. His father was dismayed.

In a theme that reoccurs again and again throughout his life, James enthused some friends about the project, and they agreed to drive his two hulls to Brightlingsea—200 miles away on the east coast of England. From there he promptly set sail for Emshaven, Germany, to collect his two girlfriends. After that he aimed to cross the Atlantic, proving the seaworthiness of his primitive craft and validating the designs of the ancient Pacific islanders.

“I only ever became the ‘great James Wharram,’ through the auspices of these two German women,” James says seriously. “I want you to stress that in your article. Ruth became the mother of us all.” He ponders a moment, then holds up a crooked finger. “Effectively, I’d say that in attitudes I’m post-war part German. The Germans really pioneered oceanic multihull cruising in the ‘50s, notably with the Schwarzenfeld brothers, who built in steel. I was just the fourth of about five at the time.”

In that first small, planked catamaran, with her windowless, low hulls, James, Ruth and Jutta made their way to Trinidad—a voyage fraught with bad weather and boat troubles. Chief among these was the repeated failure of the long metal pins that held the rudder. At first, James was able to drop in a replacement, but by the end he was engineering new rods using nails, a paraffin stove and hammer.

In the Caribbean, James continued with the plain-speaking, contrarian approach that has characterized his whole professional life and kept him on the fringes of the sailing establishment. A newspaper editor on the island took against him, and he scandalised the white population with his two girls. (Jutta was at this point pregnant with his baby.) They led a rather shabby, but happy existence in a houseboat made of bamboo poles, logs and palm fronds. And when their home eventually foundered in a storm, the little band set to building a new boat with the help of American friends on the island—and French sailing enigma Bernard Moitessier.

The design that had been taking shape in James’s head was to be much longer—38ft. He would make the hulls V-shaped and bigger for a more a comfortable life aboard. He would also beef up the rudders to avoid the debilitating failures aboard Tangaroa. Jutta sketched his vision, and the result was christened Rongo, the Polynesian god of cultivation. She carried them northwest to the U.S. Virgin Islands, then up the U.S. East Coast to Sheepshead Bay, where James felt himself amongst friends again. They landed at the dock of the Miramar Yacht Club in Brooklyn, New York.

His contact there was Jim Plieger of the Slocum Society, but the circle soon broadened as he met Boris Lauer-Leonardi, the then editor of Rudder Magazine, which had published some of his articles on catamaran design. “Americans are immediately friendly,” James remembers. “New York sucked us into its exciting life.” The U.S. sailing fraternity was much more open to the idea of oceangoing multihulls and far less distracted by the snobbishness of England. Appearances on a TV show led to further articles and lectures. “Money to finance the North American voyage came flooding in.”

But as James admits, he also yearned for the recognition of the British sailing establishment. Believing that an oddly reticent home press would surely take notice of a first North Atlantic crossing in a catamaran, he swallowed his very real fears and set sail for Ireland. Though the larger hull made light of the tougher conditions, Rongo still ran into serious steering problems. Just as before, the rudder pins snapped, causing them to nearly lose one rudder altogether. Discovering the 11ft wooden blades were too heavy to rehang, James took a saw to one of them. Astonishingly, the boat steered as well as ever after the surgery. He added this finding to his mental list.

Revolutionary design

The voyage was grueling, but even before they had set shaky feet on dry land, James was molding the experience into a new boat, which would in turn ultimately lead to his first commercial design in 1965: in effect turning professional where his earlier activities had been funded by sporadic publication in the sailing press. That first boat was based on the Rongo, scaled up to 34ft LOA, but with a V-shaped hull, a design characterized by limited accommodation and headroom in the two hulls, a full bow and boxy coachroofs. The hulls were connected with baulks of timber, lashed on; the platform between them was slatted to prevent slamming and let water drain out. Tangaroa proved successful, selling 486 plans over 10 years.

Looking back, James is scornful of his first effort. “With Tangaroa, I knew nothing, so I built her with a flat bottom and slab sides and too full a bow. She relied on two deep rudders and a centerboard to go to windward.” Contrast that with today’s designs: Wharram’s Mana 24 has more graceful, curvaceous lines and raised, inward-slanting topsides to give more headroom below. The hulls are all V-shaped and have a hint of chine plus stub keels for sailing to windward. The designs avoid centerboards for simplicity’s sake. “I like simple boats,” James says firmly.

Beyond that, the crossbeams are no longer spruce trunks, but plywood boxes or wooden I-girders, still lashed to the hulls; the rudders are now laced to the sternpost with 2mm Dyneema, which flexes and rolls, but won’t chafe. In the years since all the trouble they had with the rudder fittings in that first Atlantic crossing, James and Hanneke have designed out steel parts wherever possible.

True to the Polynesian style, the hulls have a narrow beam/length ratio, making them slim and fast—Wharram’s 63ft flagship Spirit of Gaia throws a fine spray around the bows as she reaches 20-plus knots in a blow. Finally, the accommodation is all in the two hulls—only a couple of the larger designs feature “deck pods” on the platform between the hulls.

That first decade was all about Tangaroa, and it was only later in the 1970s that Wharram really stepped up his design output. In time, the 15 designs that emerged from that heady decade came to be known as the “Classic” range, from the 16ft Maui to the 51ft Tehini. Some of the designs are still available. Most, however, have been superseded by the “Coastal Trek” designs of the 1980s, with greater headroom below and more detailed interiors, including the Hitia and the Tiki boats (14ft to 46ft LOA). In between were the Pahis (26ft to 63ft)—with exaggerated raised bows and sterns intended to provide a curvier “female” counterpart to the “male” Classics.

James believes his design ideas come from the unconscious part of the brain that contains the instincts and the lessons from generations of humanity. It takes as little as two weeks to build a boat in his head, he says, after which Hanneke adds, “Then the hard work begins.” And she should know. For nearly 50 years, she has been doing his actual draughting, painstakingly turning his mental pictures into beautiful pen-and-ink drawings to guide builders through every step of construction. “I draw Jamess’ mind,” she says with a gentle smile. “We’re a team, but don’t stand too close to us as we work!”

The result of their teamwork often features naked sailors, I observe—another key part of the Wharram philosophy and the cause of repeated “friction” with the sailing establishment. As if to prove it, the design office is adorned with a huge glossy photo of Hanneke and Ruth trimming sails without wearing a stitch.

The ‘70s and ‘80s were also an exhilarating time of symposia, lectures and papers published in the United States and Europe. The way James tells the story, he was treated like a rockstar at the first World Multihull Symposium in 1976, Toronto. Hustled in to present his paper, he was mobbed by groupies and wellwishers afterward. At the same time he continued to expound his beliefs on everything from hull length-to-beam ratios, stability and Polynesian migration routes. On occasion, he was disappointed by the standard of the debate, and I can well imagine the moderator struggling to keep this belligerent, opinionated Englishman in check.

American sailors have remained staunch supporters of Wharram, responsible for around a third of all orders. There is also now an annual Wharram Hui, or gathering, in Fort Myers, Florida, and in contrast to the British sailing establishment, people here recognise James’s achievements. In 2008, for example, he was invited to the Mystic Wooden Boatshow where he was honored as a multihull pioneer. “This type of honoring is special to the Americans, who are not shy of telling the world how great people are,” says Hanneke appreciatively.

Modern build

All his life, James has sought to replicate and hone the Polynesian boatbuilding tradition. But if there is pleasure and purpose in it, he is not slavish. “We are not trying to recreate Polynesian techniques, just their forms,” he says firmly.

From the outset, Wharram sought to make his boats as simple as possible to build. So he eschewed the traditional method of building a solid base first, with heavy cross-pieces at each station. His so-called “backbone and bulkheads” method uses the boat’s own structure as the guide, for a “drastic reduction of pieces of wood, measurement and saw cuts to reach the final ply planking stage”. There were no metal fixings, just glue—urea-formaldehyde at first, then resorcinol.

Nowhere is this clearer than in Wharram’s adoption of West System epoxy in 1980. Now it was only necessary to “stitch” the members together using loops of copper wire and then “weld” them into place using a healthy fillet of epoxy putty, after which the outer hull is sheathed in a layer of glass and epoxy for strength and waterproofing. Over the years this technique has been further refined through the use of cable ties and the advent of laser cutting, with Falmouth firm Fibre Fusion now providing entire kits ready-cut into millimeter-perfect shapes.

“James worked out lots of methods to make building easier for unskilled people,” Hanneke explains. “Low skills make it much more likely to succeed, even if it does look a bit rough around the edges. Better builders produce a real work of art.”

James adds that over the years they found that some of the early builders were improvising on the cabins as they grew in confidence later in the build. The result was some rather unsightly boats. To solve this problem, James says, “We built the cabin shape into the bulkhead design, so people were committing to it right at the start of the build.... There’s psychology in it.”

Unfortunately, in this same emphasis on amateur builders lies a problem with the Wharram legacy. Since the vast majority of the boats are home built, the quality varies widely. Even James would admit that his trial-and-error approach led to some problems, such as the time in 1973 when he was following the Whitbread Round the World Race in his 49ft 3in Tehini and the crossbeams started to come loose. He had forgotten to bolt the rubber pads down. “James’s reputation was dragged down by the rougher boats,” Hanneke admits.

After the huge Spirit of Gaia was built in 1992, James reflected that it was all very well drawing boats that might cost $150,000 to build, but what about the ordinary sailor? The fruit of these thoughts was the launch of the Ethnic range of catamarans, starting with the 16ft Melanesia in 1997 pitched at a younger, poorer sailor. “The 22ft Tahiti Wayfarer costs half as much as a Tiki 21 because it doesn’t need hardware or a proper mast,” Hanneke says. “The hull is a beautiful sculptural shape based on a Polynesian hull form. You can go hunting for wood for spars yourself—it’s very creative.” The design plans advise ash or sycamore for the spars and bamboo for the cross beams.

In a sense, Wharram’s whole career has been an experiment in marine archaeology. Like in 1995, when he and Hanneke sailed Spirit of Gaia to the Pacific to research traditional sailing craft. On the island of Tikapia, they discovered a 200-year-old canoe with the same V-hull form as Spirit of Gaia, supporting their assumptions about Polynesian hull design. “We jumped up and down for joy when we saw that,” recalls Hanneke.

The Lapita Voyages in 2008-9 were another such exploit. In an effort to show how settlers could have reached the Pacific islands from southeast Asia, an 80-year-old James and Hanneke recreated the voyage on an ethnic catamaran. “We learned that a simple double canoe with crab-claw sails can make such a voyage and sail to windward,” Hanneke says.

These days, some of the early Wharrams are bordering on marine archaeology themselves. “There is now a new group of Wharram builders that take on old boats and restore them, often very beautifully,” says Hanneke. “There are many such in the U.S.”

A way of life

It is fading now under the twin assaults of age and Alzheimer’s disease, but I can still make out an extraordinary intellectual vibrancy to James Wharram that comes to the fore whenever he and Hanneke talk about boats. During my 24-hour stay with them in Devoran, we talked of little else. It is intense, to say the least. That and his physical vitality have made him immensely attractive to women. “If you could have seen him a few years ago…” begins Hanneke at one point.

Through the network of sailors, friends and admirers accrued over 60 years of bucking conventions, Hanneke and James lie at the centre of a huge global web. I feel an almost overwhelming sense of having stepped into an alternate reality. Dominated by “the Wharram philosophy,” it encompasses experimental marine archaeology, anthropology, mysticism, Jungian philosophy and a sexual openness whose clearest exponent is James’s strongly libertine tendencies. “I loved two women,” he says simply. It is a sentiment that encapsulates much of what makes him unique, as well as what has provoked such disapproval. 

The Boats

Tangaroa (1955-1960)

Rongo (1960-61)

Pahi 31 (1979)

Pahi 42 (1980)

Hitia 14 (1980)

Tiki 21 (1981)

Tiki 26 (1983)

Tiki 31 (1985)

Pahi 63 (1985)

Tiki 28

Tiki 36

Tiki 30

Tiki 38

Tiki 46

Melanesia (1997)

Tahiti Wayfarer (2000)

Islander 65 (2000)

Pahi 52 (2001)

Islander 55 (2002)

Child of the Sea (2003)

Islander 39 (2007)

Amatasi (2011)

Mana 24 (2015)

Sailing a Wharram

In the course of my research, I sailed several Wharram boats, but the one that sticks best in my mind was the Ethnic Wayfarer. Launched off the quay at Devoran on a cold, blustery spring day, she has a crab-claw rig with just a mainsheet for trimming and a paddle for steering.

The helmsperson sits at the back of a hull, where they can reach the water on either side. The paddle rests against the hull on the leeward side—pressed there by the lateral force of the wind on the boat. Lower the paddle a fraction and the boat bears away—raise it and she hardens up, then tacks. Downwind, the trick is to trail the paddle behind you, just touching the water where slight deflections are all that’s needed to steer. The system is at once beguilingly simple and complicated to master.

Reaching back and forth with her tarpaulin sail, the Wayfarer accelerates quickly with its lightweight and manoeuvres easily. Plus, her draught of 8in makes her incredibly flexible. At 300 hours, she is the smallest and easiest boat to build, costing just a few thousand in materials, and built entirely of wood, epoxy and rope; there is not a single metal fitting anywhere.

Photos courtesy of James Wharram & Sam Fortescue

Read James Wharram Sailed Across the Atlantic on a Home-built Catamaran from MHS Winter 2016 here.

MHS Winter 2018

Sours: https://www.sailmagazine.com
  1. Simple truth sunflower butter
  2. Publix bakery bread
  3. Americana cross stitch patterns

James Wharram

James Wharram (born 15 May 1928 in Manchester, England) is a multihull pioneer and designer of catamarans.

Polynesian beginnings[edit]

In 1953, after long studies into the records of boats of the Pacific in the libraries and museums of Britain, and inspired by Eric de Bisschop's book The voyage of the Kaimiloa,[1] he designed and built the first British ocean-going double-canoe-catamaran, the Tangaroa (length 23 feet 6 inches (7.16 m)) and in 1955–56 sailed with Jutta Schultze-Rohnhof and Ruth Merseburger,[2][3] across the Atlantic to Trinidad – the beginning of cruising and transatlantic crossing with a catamaran.[4][5]

No scholars in the Western world at this time believed that the Polynesians had boats capable of directed ocean voyages. Wharram believed otherwise and set out to prove it by doing it himself. He followed this first Atlantic crossing by building a 40-foot V-hull double canoe, Rongo, in Trinidad in 1957–58, with Bernard Moitessier's help, and sailing her across the North Atlantic in 1959 from New York to Ireland.[6] This was the first west-to-east crossing of the Atlantic by catamaran or multihull.

The story was told by Wharram in the 1969 book Two Girls Two Catamarans.[7]

From 1973 Wharram was assisted by his co-designer Hanneke Boon.[8] In 1987-92 James and his partners built a new flagship, the 63-foot catamaran Spirit of Gaia, which they sailed into the Pacific and round the world, to study Indo-Pacific canoe-craft (1994–98).

The Lapita Voyage[edit]

In 2008-9 James Wharram and Hanneke Boon conceived the Lapita Voyage expedition, sailing two double canoes based on traditional Polynesian hullform and crab claw sails, from the Philippines to Tikopia and Anuta in the Solomon Islands. The ‘Lapita Voyage’[9] was a major expedition in Experimental Marine Archaeology. It was the first exploration of one possible migration route into the Central Pacific by Ethnic sailing craft.[citation needed]

Wharram Catamaran Designs[edit]

Wharram designs are inspired by Polynesian double canoes and typically have an open deck, with small deckpod(s) for crew shelter. James Wharram combined boat building with studies of Polynesian culture. Most modern catamarans are built as a single rigid structure thereby sustaining greater forces and stresses in waves, whereas on Wharrams the separate hulls are connected to the crossbeams with (synthetic) rope lashings, in true Polynesian style. The flexibility of the Wharram system makes the boats suffer less stress in ocean waves.[10]

Wharram's designs have covered a range of sizes from the 14 feet (4.3 m) Hitia to the 63 feet (19 m) Pahi 63 Gaia.[11]

The rig on Wharrams since the early 1980s is the 'Wharram Wingsail Rig',[12] an appropriate tech squareheaded rig with low turbulence pocket round the mast and a short adjustable gaff at the head. The advantages of this rig are simplicity, low turbulence and the fact that it can be lowered in a following wind at any time. The Centre of effort on all Wharram rigs is kept low, giving them very good stability. No full-size Wharram has been known to have capsized.[13]

Many of the cabin interiors are designed to flexy-space principles, the concept being multi-purpose space on a human scale, in which less is more and the simpler the construction, the better. The slim v-shaped hulls have a very good speed/length ratio and all have canoe sterns, giving minimum drag, even when loaded. This hullshape requires no keels or boards to sail to windward, giving hulls with little draft and easy beachability. Wharram also keeps freeboards low for minimum windage.[14]

Memberships[edit]

Pahi 63, Wharram self built catamaran
Tiki 26, Wharram self built catamaran at Usedom
Pahi 63, Self built catamaran
  • 1967 – present: British Marine (formerly the British Marine Industries Federation, BMIF).
  • 1968 – present: Polynesian Catamaran Association (PCA). Founding Member.
  • 1968 – 1975 Multihull Offshore Cruising and Racing Association (MOCRA). Founding Member.
  • 1968 – 1978 Little Ship Club.
  • 1973 – present: Royal Yachting Association (RYA).
  • 1977 – 1991 Committee member of the RYA Cruising Committee
  • 1992 – present: Andean Explorer’s Club. Honorary Member.
  • 1996 – present: Roskilde Vikingship Museum friends.
  • 2000 – present: Cruising Association.
  • 2005 – present: Association of Yachting Historians.
  • 2009 – present: Member of the Royal Geographical Society.

Publications[edit]

  • Ocean-going catamarans. 1962. Ciba Technical Notes 231, Cambridge, UK
  • Two Girls, Two Catamarans, 1969. Story of Ruth and Jutta, the Tangaroa and the Rongo
  • Tehini. October 1970, Yachting Monthly, UK. Seminal article on Design approach.
  • The Stable Multihull. 1976. (Researched for 1st World Multihull Symposium, Toronto.)
  • The Sailing Community. 1978, Wooden Boat, USA, Prize-winning proposal for ‘Waterborne International Communities’.
  • Catamaran Stability – Figures, Facts and Fictions. 1991. Practical Boat Owner, UK. Also published in several other countries.
  • Nomads of the Wind. October 1994. Practical Boat Owner, UK. Analysis of the sailing qualities of the Polynesian Double Canoe.
  • The Wharram Design Book: Build Yourself a Modern Sea - Going Polynesian Catamaran, 1996
  • Going Dutch: The Tiki Wing Sail Rig. 1998, Practical Boat Owner, UK. Also published in several other countries, incl. Australia, Holland and France.
  • Lessons from the Stone Age Sailors, A Study of Canoe Form Craft in the Pacific and Indian Ocean.
  • Vikings go Home, November 2008. Classic Boat, UK. (Article about voyage of the 100 ft Vikingship reconstruction ‘Seastallion’ from Dublin to Denmark).

See also[edit]

References[edit]

  1. ^"Master multihull sailor and designer James Wharram celebrates historic Atlantic crossing", m15 September 2015, ysailing.com.au
  2. ^"Â £200 Boat Prepares To Cross The Atlantic", 1955, British Pathé
  3. ^"Ruth Wharram", Obituary, September 6, 2013, SAILfeed.com
  4. ^"No list of influential multihulls would be complete without the work of James Wharram...", July 10, 2014, Cruising World
  5. ^Charles J. Doane (6 December 2009). The Modern Cruising Sailboat: A Complete Guide to its Design, Construction, and Outfitting. McGraw Hill Professional. pp. 29–. ISBN .
  6. ^"English Catamaran Designer Honored", April 20, 2013, Cruising World
  7. ^"James Wharram: Celestial Adventurer or Visionary Architect?", Philippe Echelle, Multihulls World
  8. ^"James Wharram", outrig.org
  9. ^"Lapita Voyage". Archived from the original on 2012-11-13. Retrieved 2012-05-03.
  10. ^Harvey, Derek, Multihulls for Cruising and Racing, Adlard Coles, London 1990 p. 16, ISBN 0-7136-6414-2
  11. ^James Wharram Designs: Self Build Boatswww.wharram.com, accessed 28 December 2019
  12. ^Wharram, James: Wharram Wingsail Rig
  13. ^Wharram, James: The Wharram Design Book. Building Yourself A Modern Sea-Going Polynesian Catamaran
  14. ^Wharram, James: Freeboard and Windage

External links[edit]

Sours: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/James_Wharram

James Wharram

James Wharram (Manchester, 15 de mayo de 1928) es un marinero y diseñador de catamaranes británico.

Travesías[editar]

En 1953 construyó su primer barco, el Tangaroa y realizó el primer viaje transatlántico con un catamarán. Tras un ataque de carcomas a su barco Tangaroa, Wharram construyó un nuevo barco más grande en Trinidad, llamado Rongo. Wharram realizó un viaje por el Atlántico norte a bordo del Rongo en 1959; la primera travesía transatlántica por las aquas frías del norte con un catamarán. James compartió estas aventuras con dos mujeres alemanas, Jutta y Ruth. El viaje fue realizado con pocos recursos y provisiones mínimas. Jutta tuvo a su hijo Hannes en Trinidad. Los cuatro emprendieron una vuelta alrededor del mundo patrocinada por la TV en 1960, interrumpida por la muerte de Jutta a causa de una enfermedad.[1]​ Con Hanneke Boon realizó una vuelta del mundo en el SPIRIT OF GAIA de 63 de 1995 a 1998.

Diseño[editar]

Wharram se basa en los barcos de la polinesia de dos troncos, que tienen típicamente un puente abierto. James Wharram combinò la construcción de barcos con estudios de la cultura polinesia. Un Wharram es un barco inteligente porque las barras entre los dos cascos son atadas con cuerdas que absorben las fuerzas de las ondas como un elástico. Los catamaranes modernos son más rígidos y, por ende, no disipan la energía de las fuerzas actuantes con tanta facilidad.[2]​ No hay registros que un catamarán diseñado por Wharram haya volcado en mar abierto.[3]​ Las cabinas son multifuncionales en la escala humana. La reducida carga útil de esos catamaranes fuerza a los navegantes de un Wharram a vivir con el mínimo. Generalmente los barcos son de madera contrachapada (mayormente la de uso náutico) en sándwich con epoxy, fibra de vidrio y barras de madera laminada.

James Wharram no es solamente un ingeniero naval y arquitecto de barcos, vive además acorde a la filosofía de “gente del mar”. Un Wharram típico es un barco hippie hecho en casa. Los dueños de un Wharram son realmente navegantes muy determinados, cuidan mucho el barco y, como es un catamarán, pueden ponerse en la playa fuera de las marinas. Los planos de un Wharram son concebidos de tal forma que cualquier persona pueda construir un catamarán transatlántico fiable. Un Wharram es barato, marinero y fácil a navegar.

Pahi 63, catamarán Wharram
Tiki 26, catamarán Wharram en Usedom
Pahi 63, Catamarán hecho en casa

Miembros de[editar]

  • 1967 – hoy: British Marine Industries Federation (BMIF).
  • 1968 – hoy: Polynesian Catamaran Association (PCA). Membero fondador.
  • 1968 – 1975 Multihull Offshore Cruising and Racing Association (MOCRA). Membro fondador.
  • 1968 – 1978 Little Ship Club.
  • 1973 – hoy: Royal Yachting Association (RYA), Membero.
  • 1977 – 1991 Membro del comitado de vela crociero RYA
  • 1992 – hoy: Andean Explorer’s Club. Membro onorar.
  • 1996 – hoy: Roskilde Vikingship Museum friends.
  • 2000 – hoy: Cruising Association. Membero extranjero.
  • 2005 – hoy: Association of Yachting Historians.
  • 2009 – hoy: Membro de la Royal Geographical Society.

Enlaces externos[editar]

Conferencias[editar]

  • History and Problems of Design of Modern Multihulls. 1977. Fifth Symposium on Developments of Interest to Yacht Architecture, HISWA, Ámsterdam, Netherlands.
  • Cruising Multihulls, 1978, RYA Cruising Symposium.
  • Multis are more Traditional than deep-Keel Yachts. 1980. Multihull Symposium, Plymouth, UK.
  • Appropriate Technology in catamaran Design and construction.1988. European Multihull Symposium, Netherlands.
  • An Analysis of Self-Built Catamarans in the overall Development of Cruising Catamarans. 1989. MOCRA International Symposium, Exeter, UK.
  • The Gaia Project, 1990. Second Dolphin and Whale Conference, Australia.
  • The Spirit of Gaia, 1992. Third Dolphin and Whale Conference, Hawaii.
  • European Double Hulled Canoes and The Archaeology of Viking Ships, 1996. Waka Moana Symposium, Auckland, New Zealand.
  • Yacht Building and Yacht Chárter in Indonesia, 2001, ITS Small Craft and Design Conference, Surabaya, Indonesia.
  • The Pacific Migrations by Canoe Form Craft, 2003, ISBSA10 Roskilde, Denmark.
  • ‘Lapita Voyage - recreating the migration route of the proto Polynesians’, 2008, ‘Early Man and the Ocean’ Conference, Norwegisches Maritimes Museum & Kontiki Museum, Oslo.

Otras publicaciones[editar]

  • Ocean-going catamarans. 1962. Ciba Technical Notes 231, Cambridge, UK
  • Tehini. October 1970, Yachting Monthly, UK. Seminal article on Design approach.
  • The Stable Multihull. 1976. (Researched for 1st World Multihull Symposium, Toronto.)
  • The Sailing Community. 1978, Wooden Boat, USA, Prize-winning proposal for ‘Waterborne International Communities’.
  • Catamaran Stability – Figures, Facts and Fictions. 1991. Practical Boat Owner, UK. Also published in several other countries.
  • Nomads of the Wind. October 1994. Practical Boat Owner, UK. Analysis of the sailing qualities of the Polynesian Double Canoe.
  • Going Dutch: The Tiki Wing Sail Rig. 1998, Practical Boat Owner, UK. Also published in several other countries, incl. Australia, Holland and France.
  • Lessons from the Stone Age Sailors, A Study of Canoe Form Craft in the Pacific and Indian Ocean.
  • ‘Vikings go Home’, Nov. 2008. Classic Boat, UK. (Article about voyage of the 100ft Vikingship reconstruction ‘Seastallion’ from Dublin to Denmark).

Referencias[editar]

  1. ↑Wharram, James: Two girls, two catamarans. Ed. Crociera Totale, Bologna 2001 ISBN 88-87210-04-7
  2. ↑Wharram, James: Keep multihulls simple ASIN: B000S6EMT6
  3. ↑Wharram, James: The Wharram Design Book. Building Yoyrself A Modern Sea-Going Polynesian Catamaran ASIN: B005E8QNTA
Sours: https://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/James_Wharram

Catamaran wharram

Nic Compton learns how the unorthodox British designer, James Wharram, took his family and fans around the world in his handcrafted catamaran, Spirit of Gaia, gaining some valuable lessons along the way

The morning breeze was just starting to fill in as we headed out of Port Vathi on board Ionian Spirit, an old Danish fishing boat converted for charter. As we headed north, dramatic clouds piled up on the mountains of Ithaca, re-evoking the spirit of Odysseus, the island’s most famous citizen, and creating an unforgettable scene.


Then a sail appeared on the bay ahead, and I was half-expecting to find a Greek trireme re-enacting the ancient story. Instead, we came across another kind of ancient craft: a Polynesian double-canoe of the type that sailed the Pacific at about the same time as Odysseus sailed the Ionian. Or, to be exact, British designer James Wharram’s interpretation of such a craft, the 63ft Spirit of Gaia, sailing once again after a five-year restoration.

It was a fortuitous meeting as, although I’ve met James and his partner Hanneke Boon several times and written many articles about their designs (I even started building my own Tiki 21 back in the late 1980s), I had never seen this, the biggest of the Wharram lineage. Spirit of Gaia was not only James’s most ambitious design but a few years earlier had also completed his most ambitious voyage: sailing 32,000 miles around the world, from England to Greece via the Pacific.

Spirit of Gaia’s 1992 launch at Cornwall’s Restronguet Creek

It didn’t take much persuasion for me to join them on board when we caught up with them the following day in an idyllic anchorage on the island of Lefkas. As we sat in Gaia’s ‘village square’ (i.e. the central platform) enjoying a cup of Greek ‘mountain tea’, James and Hanneke told me about the boat’s fascinating origins, her eventful circumnavigation, and her subsequent restoration.

Spirit of Gaia was designed and built as an act of love. And I don’t mean human love – although James’s and Hanneke’s son Jamie was born at about that time, and there was plenty of love from the volunteers who helped build, launch and sail the boat – I’m talking about sealife love.

Research ship

Dolphin and whale research was a growing subject in the 1980s when the Spirit of Gaia project was conceived. The Wharrams had been involved in dolphin encounter projects with their previous boat, the 51ft Tehini, and swam with dolphins from their Tiki 21. In 1985, when she was seven months pregnant, Hanneke went swimming with dolphins in Spain and later gave birth to son Jamie in water.

Most dolphin studies up until then, however, had taken place either in captivity or close to land. The Wharrams (by which I mean James and his partners Ruth and Hanneke) wanted to change that. Spirit of Gaia was conceived as a base ship for studying dolphin and whale behaviour out at sea, capable of staying at sea for long periods with up to 16 people on board.

The resulting design was the biggest in the Pahi range, which has a more rounded hull form than either the Classic or Tiki range of Wharram cats. The new ‘dolphin exploration ship’ had a low freeboard with the trademark Wharram ‘short gaff Wingsail’ and ‘soft’ (i.e. rope) rigging – both later emulated by Open 60 and America’s Cup sailors – in a schooner configuration. Auxiliary power would come from a pair of outboards.

Construction was of Douglas fir ply – the same as the Wharrams’s previous boat Tehini, even though James reckoned the sheets weren’t of such good quality as in 1969. A single layer of 11mm ply was used for the hulls, with the ‘bad’ (knotty) side facing outwards; any blemishes were filled with epoxy and the whole outer surface was sheathed with cloth and epoxy resin. For the decks, a ply/foam sandwich construction was used, to provide extra insulation against the heat of the sun.

Morris dancers at Gaia‘s launch

Another development since the 1960s was the design of the crossbeams, which had evolved from solid laminated construction to ply and timber I-beam construction, which provides greater strength for less weight. The beams were lashed with rope, in the now customary Wharram style. It’s a more forgiving approach than conventional rigid attachments and, as James points out, it’s a lot easier to replace a worn lashing than repair a fractured hull.

The accommodation was intended to resemble a ‘village’, with private double cabins (the ‘cottages’) at each end of both hulls and communal areas in the middle, including a fire box (the ‘hearth’) in the central seating platform (the aforementioned village square) and a hatch (the ‘well’) for collecting buckets of seawater. James calls the concept a ‘tribal boat’, and it’s an ideal setup for chartering, schooling – or indeed dolphin and whale observation.

Always one to enjoy a bit of playful symbolism, he also says the shape of the knees below decks were intended to echo “the iconic Cretan double axe” while the curved openings in the bulkheads gave a “womb-like feeling” to the cabins. Back on deck, the stem heads were shaped to resemble “the male phallus” while the sternposts represented “a more feminine shape”. All were hand-crafted “in the spirit of the Arts & Crafts movement”.

Spirit of Gaia was launched with the help of hundreds of Wharram family, friends and volunteers in the quiet waters of Restronguet Creek in Cornwall in May 1992. The boat was given a Christian blessing by the local vicar, the Rev Michael Palmer, a Hawaiian blessing by a Hawaiian kumu (or elder), Kiko Johnston Kitazawa, and a Celtic blessing by the Grand Bard of Cornwall. And, just for good measure, the Cornish Morris Dancers also gave a special performance.

A communal boat for a modern age

Once launched, Spirit of Gaia looked like nothing else around: she was a communal boat for a modern age; a highly sophisticated and deliberate blend of cultural influences. We’ve got so used to Wharram’s unorthodox approach, it’s easy to miss what an achievement the boat really was.

For the past 50 years, while everyone else was busy churning out identical modern GRP boats or faithful copies of old wooden boats, James and Hanneke stuck steadfastly to their vision and created dozens of designs that are both traditional and yet modern; practical and yet with a strong design aesthetic; easy and relatively cheap to build and yet strong, safe and durable. Spirit of Gaia was the ultimate expression of that vision and, while she might not appeal to everyone, she was undoubtedly different and, in her own way, perfect.

After fitting the boat out, the Wharrams spent two years organising dolphin expeditions off the Canaries in 1993-94. The boat proved itself comfortable and safe, yet still capable of some impressive turns of speed. “We sustained 16 knots for quite a while, sailing across one of the acceleration zones from Tenerife to Gran Canaria,” remembers Hanneke. “We were on a reach with only the foresail and staysail up. There was fine spray shooting over the foredeck and huge rooster tails behind. It was quite exciting!”

A sociable time

It was a sociable time, with nights drinking and dancing with new and old friends, that James would write about in typically romantic way: “There was the memorable voyage, 500 miles from Gran Canaria to Funchal on Madeira, when, with the rudder lashed, in light winds, the Double canoe glided across the ocean. For a while, we left this century and the western world to become a part of the Polynesian sea world. Turtles in the sea, dolphins around, sea birds flying into the sunset, and the night lit with brilliant stars. We loved our ship.”

And there were dolphins too – even if, ironically, their biggest spotting was a pod off the Lizard, just as they were leaving the UK. Another group of dolphins joined them one night while they were sailing off Portugal. “I woke up at 1am and could hear them chirping through the hull – you can hear them especially well in the chart room which is below the waterline,” says Hanneke. “I went up on deck and they were like torpedoes in the water, lit up by phosphorescence.”

To help pay the way, they chartered Spirit of Gaia to a couple of Spanish environmental groups, and took a large crew of divers and camera men and all their associated equipment around every island in the Canaries – including a memorable passage down the coast of La Palma in winds of over 40 knots, when the boat recorded speeds of up to 9 knots under bare poles.

The promotional illustration hints at an alternative onboard lifestyle

Another time, they worked with a German group running an ‘open sexuality’ workshop based on the theories of German sociologist Dieter Duhm.

The dolphins proved elusive, however, and soon the idea of a voyage into the Pacific began to emerge. Astonishingly, despite their entire careers being based on reinterpreting Polynesian sailing craft, neither James nor Hanneke had ever sailed in the Pacific.

James and Ruth had sailed across the Atlantic six times (including famously when they became the first people to sail a multihull across the North Atlantic from West to East in 1959) and Hanneke twice on Tehini. Only Ruth had seen the Pacific, when she once crossed the Tasman Sea to New Zealand on a Wharram catamaran.

Leaving the Canaries

The final push for the voyage was an invitation to the Na ‘Ohana Holo Moana, a Great Gathering of double canoes at Raiatea in French Polynesia in March 1995. At last, they had a goal to aim for and a reason to sail 8,500 nautical miles, almost to the other side of the world.

Spirit of Gaia set off from the Canaries just before Christmas 1994. On board were the core crew of James, Ruth, Hanneke and son Jamie, who were joined by Joke and three other volunteers. By then they had devised their own self-steering system, made of wood and using a minimum of expensive fittings, which worked well up to about 9-10 knots, after which hand steering was more reliable. Water was stored in 25lt (5gal) jerry cans stored under the bunks, and topped up by rainwater funnelled from the deck pod roofs.

They had an easy crossing, catching several fish along the way, and made landfall at Antigua after 20 days at sea – an average of 134 nautical miles per day, or 5.5 knots. It wasn’t exactly racing, but it was still quite a respectable average speed. After a few days in Antigua, they set off again, first to St Maarten to pick up new crew, and then across 1,000 miles to Porto Colon at the entrance to the Panama Canal. This passage went a bit faster, culminating in an exciting romp pushed by gale force winds of 28-35 knots, when the boat surfed down waves at speeds of up to 11 knots.

They made it through the Panama Canal – where James almost drowned when Spirit of Gaia’s mooring line was improperly tied by the crew of a US army vessel, and the boat collided with the canal wall. James went over the side but was helped out by the ship’s crew, who were rewarded with a lambasting, and Spirit of Gaia survived remarkably unscathed.

Finally, on 4 February 1995, James, Ruth and Hanneke and their crew, set out across the Pacific. It was of course just a great big blue ocean, much like any other, but the 4,500-mile crossing from Panama to French Polynesia was also richly symbolic. After decades of dreaming about these waters, they were finally here. And for James, it was as if part of him belonged there already.

“I just felt supremely at home,” he says. “I had always venerated Polynesian sailors, and now there I was sailing among them.”

Spirit of Gaia and the fleet of local craft at the island of Raiatea

Spirit of Gaia and her crew were now well used to making long passages, and even their son Jamie, now nine years old, was able to carry on with his schoolwork while sailing across the Pacific – even if he would rather have been cooling off in a tub of water.

“The clear tropical starlit nights were the best part,” writes James in his forthcoming biography. “When seeing that huge dome of dark sky filled with bright stars and no land light to spoil the vision, one can easily understand how the Polynesians developed their superb star navigation methods. That night sky, also when ashore on their islands, was like their bedroom ceiling. They knew it like you or I would know every crack and blemish. It is an ever-moving map that one can watch and study and remember.”

They arrived at Huahine (where the celebrations were to begin) on 9 March after 33 days at sea – an average of 139 miles per day, or 5.8 knots – despite having a week of no wind off the Galapagos Islands. Their best day’s run was 221 miles, at an average of 9.2 knots.

If the Wharrams expected a grand welcome after sailing 8,500 miles to Huahine, they were to be sorely disappointed. The Na ‘Ohana Holo Moana (literally meaning the Voyaging Families of the Ocean) turned out to be a strictly local affair, and only Pacific-built replicas with Polynesian crews were allowed to take part in the official events. Spirit of Gaia was clearly regarded as a European interloper and pushed firmly to the margins, regardless of having been invited and that she and her crew had sailed nearly half way round the world to be there.

Cultural exclusion

Faced with this culture exclusion zone, all the Wharram family could do was look and enjoy the spectacle of the boats in their native setting – even if they seemed to be towed more than they were actually sailed. Spirit of Gaia shadowed the fleet for several weeks, as the boats were towed to the nearby islands of Raiatea and Tahiti, mostly in a strict ‘order of protocol’ in which the Wharrams were always placed last. They were also told they could not attend certain ceremonies which were deemed unsuitable for Westerners.

By the time it came to head north to the Marquesas Islands and then on to Hawaii for the next part of the event, they decided they’d seen enough. Instead of carrying on with the fleet, they decided to head south to take up an invitation from their agent in New Zealand to moor the boat at his home on the outskirts of Auckland.

It was nearly 2,500 miles away, but such is the Wharram fanbase that there was rarely a shortage of crew willing to join them for the various sections of the voyage. After a short crossing with just the ‘core crew’ on board, they were joined in Rarotonga by Kiwi volunteers Rob and Ross, who sailed with them the rest of the way to New Zealand.

Living exhibit

There, Spirit of Gaia was given pride of place as a ‘living exhibit’ at the heart of the National Maritime Museum on Hobson Wharf. The Wharrams were given free access to the library and James was invited to give lectures at the museum as part of the Vaka Moana Symposium. It was a befitting welcome to the ship and crew that had travelled so far – and a complete contrast to their reception at the Great Gathering.

But the great discovery of the voyage – and something which would have a lasting impact on all their lives – was made not at the maritime museum but at the War Memorial Museum in Auckland. There, among a display of various Pacific sea craft, they spotted a boat called the Sacred Tikopian Canoe, which stopped them in their tracks.

Unlike the other canoes in the museum (and indeed most of those at the Great Gathering), which were much more rounded, the Tikopian canoe had a V-shaped hull similar to the kind of boat James (and before him Eric de Bisschop) had been designing for decades. Not only did this reaffirm that the Polynesians had indeed had boats capable of sailing to windward but it was also vindication for James, who had long been criticised for creating a Westernised ideal of Polynesian craft which didn’t match the real thing.

The Tikopian canoe was not only very real but, as they discovered after they were given permission to measure the boat, remarkably similar to the Wharram Pahi hull shape. Hanneke would later describe this discovery as their “eureka moment”, and it would indeed result in a whole new line of Wharram designs called the Ethnic range (more of which later).

‘Here was my final proof,’ James writes, ‘that the original Polynesian canoes could have made the windward voyages needed to discover all the remote islands.’

Spirit of Gaia was given pride of place as a ‘living exhibit’ at Auckland’s National Maritime Museum

Returning to New Zealand

After the disappointment of the Great Gathering of 1995, the Wharrams returned to New Zealand the following year with renewed vigour. They and their boat were soon put to the test, as they faced the biggest storm of the voyage between New Zealand and Fiji.

As the north-easterly wind built from 30 to 40 then 50 knots, with waves to match, James, Hanneke and volunteer crew Lew took turns at the helm, while Ruth (by then, aged 75 and with limited mobility) and another volunteer crew Freya handed up food from the galley to keep them going.

At one point, James was at the helm at night, with Hanneke and Lew resting after having spent several hours making an improvised sea anchor out of three car tyres. “Suddenly I heard this huge wave,” says James. “I thought, Christ, we’re on a reef. This great wall of water swept right over the boat and dumped on the cockpit on the other side. The boat shook, then raised itself, as the water poured through the slatted decks, and carried on forward. There was no damage, but we were all terribly shaken.”

After three days, the wind eased and they completed the passage to Fiji to begin what proved to be the most fruitful part of the whole round-the-world voyage.

The islands of Melanesia

For six months, they sailed around the islands of Melanesia – from Fiji to Vanuatu, then Tikopia and New Caledonia – doing what they arguably should have done half a lifetime before: looking at, measuring and talking to people about local canoes of all shapes and sizes.

Their visit to Vanuatu seems to have been especially productive. “Canoes in Vanuatu are like bicycles in Holland,” says Hanneke. “People live on the small offlying islands and in the day paddle to the main island where they have their gardens in amongst the jungle.

“They work there during the day, then pile the produce onto the canoe and paddle home again. Sometimes, if the wind is favourable, they get some palm leaves, lash them together, hold them upright and sail home. It’s like the origins of sail!”

Here, too, they found real sailors willing to engage and talk about their boats. “It’s amazing how easy it was to talk to people and to relate to them. We had boatbuilders from the village come on board, looking at how the boat sailed through the water; an old man scratching a stick in the sand to show us how sails were rigged in the past.

“We always had good relations with the villagers. They found our boat interesting so we’d ask them on board, and then we’d ask them about their canoe and how it was built. You have to respect their hierarchy, and always address the old men first, even though most of the young men speak English. Sometimes we made tea and scones for them, just to give them something different.”

Thanks to various aid projects, there were several sailing catamarans on Vanuatu, and it was here James and Hanneke found inspiration for a new design, when they watched a small outrigger canoe scooting across the bay at Havannah Harbour. The result was the Melanesia design, a 16ft outrigger canoe, which first appeared in the Wharram design catalogue in 1997.

Time for a refit

After a refit in Brisbane in July 1997, the Wharrams continued up the coast of Australia, sailing in daylight only for fear of hitting a reef. Compared to their long ocean passages of the past two years, it was exhausting having to raise the sails every morning, tack to windward all day, and then find a mooring every evening.

Worse still, for the first time on this voyage, the Wharram network let them down and they had to sail short-handed, at one point being reduced to three adults and a child (Jamie, by now 11) as they tacked up the Great Barrier Reef.

More reinforcements came in Darwin, as they sailed across to Kupang in South Timor, then Bali, Sumatra, Sri Lanka, the Maldives and an easy passage across the Arabian Sea to Oman. Sailing off Sumatra, the main problem was lack of wind.
“But Gaia ghosts well,” says Hanneke.

“You appear to be going nowhere and the speedo says zero, but at the end of the day you find you’ve moved 20 miles north, or wherever – as long as you keep her pointing the right way, which is not always easy. We had a big genoa off Tehini, almost like an equilateral triangle, which we set between the bows on a double pulley bridle, so we could set it more to windward or to leeward, depending on the angle of sail.”

Interior accommodation is practical and comfortable

After a short visit to Djibouti, they headed north and were making steady progress up the Red Sea when, halfway up at Port Sudan, they were hit by strong northerly winds. The sails were by now worn out, having sailed most of the way round the world, and started splitting at the seams.

Rather than pull into harbour and face yet more paperwork, the Wharrams decided to heave-to for 24 hours and restitch the seams at sea. Even the foresail, which was too difficult to remove quickly, was reinforced by bringing a sewing machine on deck and restitching as much as they could reach with it.

Meanwhile, the wind carried on blowing, rising from a Force 6 to 7 and then 8, all on the nose. For 12 days they tacked to windward, clawing their way north at a rate of 60 miles a day, until they eventually reached the Gulf of Suez. There they took a well-earned holiday at Luxor, sailing a felucca on the Nile, before continuing on the final leg of their journey.

With both engines playing up, they motorsailed up the Suez Canal and entered the Mediterranean Sea on 4 May 1998. As they hoisted the aft sail for the first time since Port Sudan, the material was stiff with salt and went up like a concertina, bathing everyone and everything under it in a shower of crystals. It was as if the boat was shaking off its old skin and readying itself for a new life.

After leaving the boat in Ashkelon Marina in Israel for a few months, James and Hanneke returned in August (1998) and sailed Spirit of Gaia to Greece, where she’d remain for the next 20 years. By this time, Ruth, who had sailed with James on his pioneering transatlantic voyages in the 1950s and been a steady hand at the helm ever since, was unwell, and the family took a pause from sailing to look after her in her final years.

Inspiration for the future

The Wharrams’s original purpose of sailing with dolphins hadn’t worked out as planned, and neither had the Great Gathering in Tahiti. But much else had come from the Spirit of Gaia project – not least sailing around the world and finally discovering authentic Pacific sea craft.

The voyage even led to James being made a fellow of the Royal Geographical Society – quite a recognition for the man who was once the enfant terrible of the British yachting establishment! Back home at their design office in Cornwall, James and Hanneke set about creating new designs inspired by the traditional craft they’d studied during the voyage. The designs combined plywood hulls with solid timber beams and spars, traditional Pacific rigs and paddle steering.

A 63ft Polynesian-inspired catamaran crawling out of a remote Cornish creek and sailing around the world? What a cause for celebration! What a breath of fresh air! James and Hanneke (and Ruth) – I salute you for your vision, your tenacity and your sheer bloody-mindedness. The world needs people like you to think outside the box and to dare to do things differently.

About the author

Nic Compton has been writing about boats and the sea for nearly 30 years. He is currently boatless and spending much more time than is healthy looking at second-hand boats on the internet.

This article was originally published in PBO April 20.

Sours: https://www.pbo.co.uk/cruising/british-designer-james-wharrams-round-the-world-adventure-on-spirit-of-gaia-64509
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