And my
answer to that has always been: "Necessary for what? Your question is
incomplete."
As is the
case with most things to do with boats, it all depends. It depends on what you
want the boat for. At least, it mostly depends on that. If you're looking for a
boat to live on, and entertain your friends, then of course you need headroom.
What would your glittering dinner parties be without full standing headroom? How could anyone pass the Grey Poupon without dipping his tie in the pâté de foie gras?
But if you're
wanting a daysailer for pottering around the bay and picnics ashore, you don't
need headroom. Unfortunately, though, these answers are often too simplistic because
normally sane sailors sometimes fall prey to over-ambitious thoughts. "What if
. . .?" thinks the owner of the 22-foot daysailer. "What if I wanted
to sail her to Hawaii?"
I once owned
a pretty Santana 22, one of Gary Mull's sweet little club-racing one-designs. I
tarted her up and fitted her out for cruising, and told anyone who cared to
listen that she was now a sport cruiser, with a bow roller for the anchor, reef
points in the jib, and a proper white-oak Samson post on the foredeck. Her sleek
lines allowed only sitting headroom down below, of course, and then not even
that when I made the mistake of replacing the old 3-inch foam settee cushions
with 4-inch ones. But my wife and I went exploring in her quite happily for weeks at a time
for several years. (Quite happily being
a comparative statement, you
understand.)
The younger
you are, the less need you feel for headroom. But even then, I have to admit,
it was tedious down below at anchor in bad weather. There was a lot of
crab-like shuffling when you wanted to move from one settee to the other.
Cooking sitting down, facing sideways, was difficult, and trying to put your
jeans on required some rather ungraceful calisthenics. On many small sailboats there is also an
overhead problem in the head itself.
Several manufacturers provide opening hatches above the toilet, so that
when you are ensconced on the throne to attend to your business you may stick your head
up through the open hatch and survey the foredeck and the far horizon. This becomes interesting in crowded
anchorages in the early morning, when heads pop up all over, trying to look
inscrutable, avoiding each others' eyes and feigning interest in some far-off bird
or animal. A few coarse old hands will inevitably have the nerve to wave and say
hello to friends straining nearby, but they always seem to be men. I've never
seen a woman with her head out of the hatch pretending to be checking the
weather or looking for lost children.
People will
tell you that headroom isn't important at sea. They say there isn't any
headroom anyway when the boat's heeled over and you are stretched out
sideways. But I don't believe it. I find
it even more difficult to move around in a heeled boat without headroom. You
have to scrabble around like a spider in a bathtub.
Headroom is
not needed for seaworthiness, nor for speed, of course. And it's questionable
whether it's necessary for safety. But it's certainly needed for comfort, and
the lack of it can limit the duration of your marriage. So my advice is to put up with lack of
headroom in small boats that perform well under sail. Go ahead and sacrifice headroom for looks and
sailing thrills. Above all, don't buy a small boat with an ugly, unseaworthy
hump of a cabintop added simply to gain standing headroom.
But if you
really must have headroom because you feel life just isn't worthwhile without it,
the answer comes down to money. Buy a bigger boat. Something around 25 or 27
feet will do it, unless you make your money by playing basketball, in which
case you might need to start at 35 feet and work upward.
Today's Thought
If you need to stand up, go on deck.— Uffa Fox
Tailpiece
“Doc, my
stomach hurts.”“Let’s see ... hmmm, yes, you’ll have to diet.”
“What color, doc?”
(Drop by every Monday, Wednesday, Friday for a new Mainly about Boats column.)
1 comment:
I own the Centennial, a 34' sharpie ketch designed by Ted Brewer in the late '70s (inspired, perhaps, by Herreshoff's Meadowlark).
Ted, bless him, didn't actually design any standing headroom at all (in a 34-footer!). He did specify a doghouse over the galley, though.
Happily, the original owners and the builder (Alan Vaitses) deleted the bilges and raised the doghouse a good two inches, so I can stand up while frying my potato pancakes. The only standing headroom is in the galley (hence the lumps on my cranium).
There is proper sitting room in the head, but I'm going to replace the flush hatch right outside the head with another small doghouse/hatch combo so that the crew may stand while adjusting their attire.
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