More of this Feature • Part 1: Nordic Tugs 52 • Part 2: Nordic Tugs 52 • Born in the USA • Nordic Tugs 52 Specs • Nordic Tugs 52 Deck Plan • Nordic Tugs 52 Acceleration Curve • Nordic Tugs 52 Photo Gallery
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I remember the first big, commercial tug I ever saw. Recently transplanted from the farmlands of Northern New York State to the docks of New Orleans, I was flat-out stunned by the arrival of the enormous, 130-foot Sara Hayes, all festooned with tractor tires, deckhands, and hawsers. My idea of a tug back then borrowed more from the realm of children’s literature than from the raw world of commercial shipping I was trying to break into. But the Hayes was no Theodore Tugboat. No Little Toot. She was as massive and authoritative as a tank.

Which is why I thought of her, I suppose, when I first caught up with the new Nordic Tugs 52 tied alongside a wharf at Cape Sante Boat Haven, in Anacortes, Washington. Over the years, most of the vessels in Nordic’s steadily evolving fleet have been called cute, and indeed, there’s no denying the 26 (discontinued some six years ago), 32, 37, and perhaps even the 42 are all attractive in a perky, diminutive sort of way. But the new 52? We’re talking giant.

For openers, the 52’s bow pulpit hovers a whopping 8'10" above the waterline. And the bow itself is nothing short of vast, primarily due to the boat’s ample 16'10" beam. As I toted my boat-test paraphernalia down the long wharf, I initially had some difficulty spotting the 52 because her bow-on aspect was so tall, broad-shouldered, and unlike anything Nordic’s ever done before. Luckily, a young guy who was rather tall and broad-shouldered himself yelled down from the towering wheelhouse, “So, whataya think, Bill?”

“Awesome,” I responded. Turned out the guy was Jeff Cress, son of Nordic’s president Jim Cress (see “Born in the USA,” this story) who was in Fort Lauderdale at the time putting the finishing touches on a new dealership opening there. Young Cress helped me get my stuff into the cockpit, then led the way through a roomy, teak-accented saloon, past a Corian-countertopped U-shape galley, and up a couple of steps to the wheelhouse. The engines, a set of optional 460-hp Cummins 480C-Es, were already murmuring—quite smokelessly, I might add. So with about as much fanfare as it takes to toss a kayak into a pond—despite the 52’s high bow, the wide, swoop-down side decks are low and deckhand-friendly—Cress and I cast off for a sea trial among the San Juan Islands.

It was a calm, spectacularly sunny day. Visibility was superb from the wheelhouse, and with both port and starboard doors open, ventilation was superb, too. Optional Raymarine electronics were powered up and running nicely, and the single Recaro Maritime helm seat was invitingly adjustable, although I preferred to stand while easing the 52 out of the marina, through a series of snaky fairways toward open water.

To steer and turn corners, I used a nifty Kobelt jog-lever control at the helm as well as alternating bursts of power from the mains a la smooth, deftly detented Twin Disc electronic engine controls. Efficient but cost-adding jog-lever systems, incidentally, are seldom seen on midrange yachts these days, but they’re common on large commercial craft. Our test boat had three jog-lever systems—one in the wheelhouse, another at the control station on the flying bridge, and yet another at the optional steering station in the cockpit. They were all actuated by an Accu-Steer hydraulic pump that was wholly separate from the Teleflex hydraulics that powered the wheel-steering system. Because the jog-lever maneuvered the test boat with such alacrity—it took the rudder just seven seconds to go from full port to full starboard and back—I abandoned the wheel early on.

Next page > Part 2: I was big-time impressed with a tour of the 52’s interior. > Page 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7