Today I drove to Newport to see a yacht for an October issue story. (I don't want to think about October yet! I've barely begun to enjoy the summer.)
Welp, I’m shipping off for Bimini tomorrow for The PMY Yacht Club Rendezvous at the Bimini Sands Resort. The party starts on the 1st and goes through the Fourth of July, otherwise known as The Best Holiday of the Year Hands Down. Frankly I’m a little torn about being abroad on America’s birthday, but I’ll be acting so damn American to make up for it that it’ll make your face hurt*, so everything should even out.
As the PMY summer editorial intern, I’m relatively new to the intricacies of megayachts. I came in with basic knowledge of boats from experiences on my family’s 28-foot catamaran. I’ve even reported on river races in the past. But megayachts are a new ball game for me. So, what have I learned in the past four weeks? Here’s a taste:
Once a novelty accommodation for vacation, houseboats are becoming more and more popular as full-time residences.
While some are still modest, these floating homes are becoming just as modern and chic as other modest metropolitan living arrangements. They’re also capable of producing more environmentally friendly living situations.
Regular PMY readers are probably familiar with the Wider, a new Italian boat with a major twist: This 42'4" center-console-ish craft has a maximum beam of 11'6" that with the mere touch of a button expands to 21'6", giving her the room of a 60-footer. The brainchild of Tilli Antonelli, founder of Pershing Yachts, she made her debut a few months back (below) and performed as predicted.
Last week, I wrote about my father's yacht spotting shutterbug ways and asked which boats you'd seen recently. Almost immediately after hitting "Post" my inbox pinged with a note from Capt. Bill Pike. He'd spotted a couple while working hard on Italy's Amalfi coast reporting on the Maestro 82 for an upcoming issue.
I shot the photo shown above while solo-cruising Betty Jane just this past weekend. I say solo-cruising because my wife BJ did not exactly declare that she wouldn't join me but somehow, at the last minute more or less, found an excuse for not going along. The reasoning behind her decision was an elemental one, I suspect, albeit quite common in the Sunny South this time of year.
As the sun began its downward track, I looked around the picnic table at the group of our friends laughing as they enjoyed cheese and crackers and crisp, chilled white wine. We were gathered on a yacht-club deck to celebrate as Father’s Day drew to a close. Our young children played nearby in the golden light before the backdrop of the mooring field and Long Island Sound beyond.