The perpetual battle to stay dry

A REGULAR READER called Nikolay has asked for advice about foul-weather clothing. He says: “To give you an idea of the intended usage: I'm a keelboat weekend sailor, some multi-day cruises, and the odd 50-100 nautical-mile race.”

I get the feeling that Nikolay is more than a little shocked, as I am, by the price of offshore foulies of the type designed for people who can’t shelter behind a dodger.

I have to say that I personally have yet to find foulies that were completely watertight, no matter what the price. There’s always the wave that smacks you full in the face and lets cold drips run down inside.

I’m told that the answer, in this case, is to wear wool underneath your oilskins, because wool keeps you warm even if it’s wet. I’ve heard the same about artificial fleece, with its alleged “wicking” properties, but I’m still skeptical about that.

In any case, I was interested to read how Robert Crawford fortified himself against the elements when he raced his little 20-footer from San Francisco to Hawaii in the 2008 Singlehanded TransPac. He had no dodger, of course, so he was totally exposed.

In his book, Black Feathers (also the name of his Cal 20), he says he wears several layers, some for warmth and some for dryness.

The first layer must be thin and breathable, he says. It must wick moisture away from the body. (I presume a sporting-goods store can help you here.)

The second layer, usually fleece, provides insulation and needs to be thick enough to be effective.

The third layer consists of foul-weather pants on the bottom, and a thin, breathable, waterproof, shell of a jacket on the top.

Now comes the surprise. On top of all that, Crawford wears a wet-suit hood over his head and neck, leaving just his face peeking out. It’s one of those hoods with extensions over the shoulders.

Finally, he dons the upper foul-weather jacket.

“With this combination I can take continual water splashes in the face without having water penetrate the inner layers,” he claims. “The water goes between the wet-suit hood and the foul-weather jacket. As the water continues downward, it travels between the foul-weather jacket and the waterproof lightweight jacket under the wet-suit hood, and then exits the clothing at the tail of the two jackets. This works very well. You must make sure the second layer is thick enough to keep you warm, however.”

You might think that he’d be looking like the Michelin man with all that stuff on, but there’s a picture of him in the book, clad for action, and he looks surprisingly trim (and dry).

The elephant in the room here, of course, is the price of all this gear. It’s not going to be cheap. But I’ve come to the conclusion that if you simply can’t stand torture by constantly dripping water, you just have to pay the price for good foul-weather gear, specially if you’re going where it’s wet, wild, and above all, cold.

Today’s Thought
It’s grand, and you canna expect to be baith grand and comfortable.
— Barrie, The Little Minister.

Boaters’ Rules of Thumb, #188
How big is she down below? The most reliable indicator of the amount of living room aboard a sailboat is displacement — that is, the actual weight of the boat loaded and ready for sea. Length overall, or length on deck is not an accurate basis for comparison.

Tailpiece
Instinct is what allows a man to recognize a mistake the second time he makes it. Experience is what keeps him from admitting it the third time.

(Drop by every Monday, Wednesday, Friday, for a new Mainly about Boats column.)