Article and Photos by Bill Jacobs
After almost 50 years of sailing, racing, cruising, raising a family, and running a business, I now enjoy the retirement life. Spending the winter in Florida and the summer in Wisconsin, I still enjoy sailing a 1974 Cape Dory Typhoon—a lovely, capable boat that I can launch, maintain and sail singlehanded. She has the familiar feel of many of the larger sailboats I’ve owned, but is more manageable at this stage of my life.
But like most of us, I never quit looking for “that next boat.” I am convinced this is part of the sailing “disease.” My condo overlooks the city marina on Sarasota Bay, and what should appear a month ago, but a Marshall Sanderling 18 catboat. It was March and she was being launched by her owners, John and Kathy Wurdeman of Charles City, Virginia, marking the start of their annual winter pilgrimage to Florida to escape the last of the Mid-Atlantic winter.

Vicari was built to order for John in 2002. It was his first sailboat, and is still his favorite. Sailing now for 11 years on his home waters along the James River, John has cruised her for as long as three weeks in Chesapeake Bay. Having learned to love cruising but desiring more space, he added a Herreshoff Meadowlark 37 and has since replaced her with a Bristol 41. But the catboat remains a constant.
I watched carefully as John singlehandedly raised the mast, trailing festoons of line that miraculously seem to be in order as the mast reached a vertical position. John selected the option of a tabernacle mast fitting. In this case, the tabernacle portion has an internal heavy metal plug onto which the mast drops 2-3 inches forming a tight and invisible seam. Once it drops in place the mast is secure.
As the boat was readied for the launch, we struck up a conversation that, fortunately, resulted in an invitation to go sailing on Vicari. The simplicity of one sail, an easy to handle mast, and a large cockpit to accommodate friends, looked desirable to a singlehander. I didn’t admit it initially, but I had never sailed a catboat.
Several days later John and I set sail in a comfortable 8-10 knot southeast breeze. My initial concern about the complexity of the gaff was put to rest as John easily hoisted the main using two halyards, one for the throat and one for the tip of the gaff. The first impression was the immensity of the 250 sq. ft. mainsail. But once it was set, it offered plenty of clearance within the cockpit, another decided advantage over my “duck the boom” technique in the Typhoon. Not to mention releasing and trimming the jib while ducking.
After checking all sail adjustments, John handed me the helm. It was very nicely balanced in the moderate breeze, but John said it could get your attention in a strong wind. I suppose the combination of a single sail with a barn door rudder can set up a tug of war. We were on a close reach with an indicted 5.3 knots of boat speed. As I put her hard on the wind she slowed to 4.6 but was pointing higher than I had expected. I must admit though, trimming a 250 sq. ft. sail without a winch and only a cam cleat was hard work for a 70 year old. On our return to the harbor we were on a broad reach requiring a jibe to port to make the entrance. At that point, while the pressure on the sheet was much more manageable, there seemed a mile of line to reel in to accomplish the maneuver.
As we all know there are endless compromises in sailing. But in terms of cockpit comfort, quality of construction, and traditional good looks, the Sanderling takes no prisoners. Who knows, there may be one more boat in my future. •SCA•
Bill Jacobs is a maritime photographer and writer who cruises the gulf coast of Florida in the winter. Each summer he sails his 1974 Cape Dory Typhoon Tern on Lake Michigan out of Baileys Harbor, Wisconsin.
First appeared in issue #84
Nice to see this article again. Thanks! Bill
There's a special place in my heart for cat boats, being the first boat I learned to sail in as practically an infant. I loved your descriptions, and esp the plot of the boat at the last - such a fat beamy, squatty looking thing on paper, yet so very pretty on the water!