What’s it really like to go from a monohull to a catamaran? A liveaboard cruiser’s lessons learned

Multihulls have soared in popularity, but what’s it really like to go from a monohull to a catamaran? Liveaboard cruiser Joshua Shankle shares lessons learned

For over a decade, my wife, Rachel, and I lived aboard what could aptly be described as a traditional bluewater cruising yacht. Our 1984 Tayana 42, Agápē, was an excellent choice for us to begin our cruising adventure.

Everything about her was robust and designed to withstand decades of abuse from the relentless ocean. We sailed her through Mexico, Central America, and into French Polynesia where we have spent the last five years exploring countless remote islands and anchorages.

The longer we spent on the water, the more we fell in love with the cruising life. Yet simultaneously, the remote lifestyle left us longing for friends and family. A sailor’s life is filled with farewells as new friends sail in and out of each other’s orbits.

Two years ago, when we decided to make cruising a permanent move, we started taking on more and more crew. This was not because we needed help sailing, but to forge and strengthen friendships made along the way. Coincidentally, around this time, I developed a serious condition: I was bitten by the ‘bigger boat’ bug, sometimes referred to as ‘Two foot-itis’.

Unfortunately this condition affects the part of the brain responsible for rational thinking!

A bigger boat

I began exploring different yachts that would offer us more space for visitors. I also hankered after something that could sail faster than our 16-ton cruiser was capable of. Here in French Polynesia, we sometimes navigate passes where the current exceeds 5 knots, and our ability to motor at just 5.5 knots has prevented us from visiting some places we’d hoped to. We realised that achieving all the space we wanted would require a 55-60ft monohull.

Gradually, my attention turned instead to catamarans. I loved the space and stability catamarans offer but was concerned about their performance in foul weather.

Once we decided to focus on catamarans, I began trying to get on board as many different models as possible. This isn’t difficult, as catamarans now constitute roughly 40-50% of cruising yachts. Everything involving boats is a compromise, and stepping aboard different models gave us a clearer idea of what we truly desired or could live without.

This proved invaluable, as design features we might admire for their sailing characteristics could be less practical for day-to-day life. After a decade aboard our Tayana, we had a good grasp of what was important to us, but transitioning from monohull to multihull opened a whole new world of questions.

Narrowing the search

Rachel and I spend the majority of our cruising time at anchor, rarely tying up at docks or marinas. This meant our next vessel needed to function more like a floating condo than a weekend racer. We wanted something that sailed well, but equally important was having a comfortable and inviting home to enjoy and share.

One of the first things I reconsidered in our search was where I wanted the helm position. Initially, I favoured older Catanas and Nautitechs with their lower booms and more performance-oriented look. However, on both brands, the helms are exposed at the stern.

While advantageous for viewing sail shape and trim, I felt they can obstruct ease of movement when embarking or disembarking, especially when carrying heavy dive equipment – diving is one of our passions. Combined with the experience of an autopilot failure necessitating hours of hand steering, I began to prioritise a comfortable and protected helm station.

Gradually, we narrowed our search, and focused on a few models that suited our lifestyle best. It’s not that they were superior boats, but they aligned more closely with our needs. Unfortunately, most were half a world away and outside our budget.

With cyclone season fast approaching, we listed Agápē, hoping to sell before the season began, which would allow us to leave French Polynesia in search of our new home. Completing the last few projects before sale proved unexpectedly challenging, as I found myself wanting to do more and more. Posting her listing felt like a betrayal.

While I cherished our monohull, she was ageing, and every boat reaches a point where an owners’ affection no longer justifies the cost required to maintain it to a certain standard. Selling Agápē was – on paper – undoubtedly the correct decision, yet emotional attachments to a boat are hard to sever. Older boats possess more character and can feel like part of the family. The idea of replacing the hand-finished solid teak interior with laminate and glassfibre was difficult to accept.

Serendipity

One evening, everything seemed to fall into place. While enjoying sundowners at the beach, some cruising friends asked which broker we were using, as they too were contemplating selling their boat, a 2012 Leopard 46.

We’d spent many evenings aboard their catamaran, sharing meals and games, and over the years had assisted them with several smaller projects. A few months earlier, our boats had even been side by side in the boatyard for bottom jobs, allowing me to inspect theirs closely.

As we discussed the sales process in French Polynesia, a price was mentioned that we could afford. From there, the decision was easy, as this catamaran was already in French Polynesia, sparing us a significant cost in taxes and simplifying the moving process. We’d set aside thousands of dollars for flights to inspect boats globally and ship our belongings, funds we could now allocate to making the Leopard fit to become our new home.

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It took me three days to meticulously inspect every square inch of the catamaran, testing everything I could before reaching a decision. While this may seem intrusive, especially when the owners are friends, it’s an essential step. Personally inspecting a boat as comprehensively as possible is crucial; surveyors are invaluable for insurance purposes, but no one should be more committed to uncovering the boat’s true condition than its prospective new owners.

Having recently sold one boat and bought another, I can attest to the fact that I forgot or was unaware of issues on our own monohull, as well as discovering overlooked details on the catamaran. These are no one’s fault (unless deliberately concealed) – it’s just the nature of boats.

Although it won’t be feasible for everyone, I was very grateful we could spend the night on board before we bought the boat. We’d stayed on a few of our friends’ catamarans over the years and the benefit of being able to spend time on the Leopard – just listening to the noises or how passing wakes might slap the sugar scoops – cannot be understated. It also gives you time for the ‘wow’ factor to wear off and start to notice the small imperfections.

Shakedown sail

Once we committed to buying the Leopard, everything progressed swiftly. With cyclone season approaching, we only had a few weeks to finalise Agápē’s sale and prepare our new catamaran, now named Agápē Nui (Nui meaning ‘big’ in Tahitian), for a 1,000-mile sail from Tahiti to the Marquesas Islands against the trade winds.

This passage served as a thorough shakedown for both boat and crew. With my parents aboard, the extra hands and rest were welcomed. We tested everything, from reefing lines and deck hatches during headwinds and waves to engine performance during the calm of the last 36 hours of the journey. The passage gave us plenty of time to learn the Leopard’s sailing characteristics as my dad and I played with different angles and trim. As often is the case, we discovered the boat could endure more than we could. Typically, we needed to slow down to enjoy a smoother ride against the swells.

Six months later, we’ve sailed our new home over 3,000 miles from Tahiti to the Marquesas and back, through the Tuamotu archipelago. I continue to be impressed with how well she sails and the comfort a catamaran provides. However, it’s not been without its challenges.

The hardest thing for me sailing the catamaran is there is very little feeling to the boat. On our monohull, I could walk away from the helm and know if she was overpowered or if the wind had shifted by the way she would move. We also had a built-in safety margin in the way a monohull can heel in a big gust. This isn’t the case on a catamaran.

We’ve had to adopt a more conservative approach – especially when running downwind on squally nights. We don’t have radar to see squalls approaching and as the wind speed picks up so does the boat speed. When deciding to reef, turning into the wind exposes the boat’s beam to its full force, highlighting the overpowering effect of the massive mainsail. The rig loads are also formidable. On our cutter-rigged monohull, I could adjust the mainsheet by hand; on the catamaran, every manoeuvre requires a winch.

Another challenge has been anchoring. On this model of catamaran, the anchor roller sits behind the trampoline, a design that has its pros and cons. The heavy anchor is not stowed as far forward when sailing, which is good for weight placement, but makes it more difficult to add floats to our anchor chain (important to keep it from damaging or becoming entangled in fragile coral reefs). We’ve managed a workaround, but it adds time when raising the chain.

On our monohull, the roller was on the bow, so if the boat drifted due to wind or waves, we could wait a moment for the boat to correct itself. With the catamaran, we can’t allow the boat to drift, or we risk the chain becoming taut against the hulls. This means when picking up or lowering the anchor in windy conditions the helmsman must use more throttle than normal to keep the bows into the wind. We’re learning and getting better but, since anchoring can be a flashpoint for many cruising couples, any additional stress in this area is best avoided.

We’ve often heard that catamarans mean more work, but I’ve found this to be only partly true. While we now manage two engines and a diesel generator, the increased space around these motors makes routine maintenance significantly easier and quicker. The larger space makes it easier to keep the area clean, helping to spot any leaks or issues immediately. Otherwise maintenance is roughly the same – except for waxing the hulls, which literally is twice the work.

It’s normal to take time adjusting to a new yacht, especially when transitioning between different types. Perhaps over the next few years, I’ll come to appreciate the subtle nuances of the Leopard as deeply as I did our beloved Agápē.

In comfort and company

The most significant change by far, and one that outweighs any negatives, is the comfort.

Exhaustion is one of the most formidable challenges cruising sailors face. On our monohull, even simple tasks during rough passages, such as using the heads, could prove daunting. Living aboard while heeled at 20° sometimes felt more like a battle for survival than a hobby.

So far, on Agápē Nui, we haven’t encountered anything like that. While conditions can still be rough and somewhat uncomfortable, neither of us has been tossed from our beds. More importantly, we arrive at each new anchorage tired but far less exhausted than before.

In terms of comfort, the catamaran truly shines at anchor. We now enjoy double the refrigeration and freezer space, two watermakers, even a washing machine. Our solar capacity has doubled to 1,800W, and we have plans to increase it to nearly 3,000W. This allows us to operate all our appliances sustainably and live far more comfortably than we could have dreamed of just 10 years ago.

In the past six months alone, we’ve welcomed 19 friends, family members, and fellow creatives aboard, many staying for weeks at a time. This was one of the main reasons we chose a catamaran – to share our lives with loved ones – and having those plans come to fruition has been extraordinary.

There’s ample room for everyone to spread out and work or relax. We thoroughly enjoy having guests on board, but having space to retreat to ensures we can host for even longer. Few things are so rewarding as getting to share the magic moments of cruising life with the ones you cherish.

Just six months in, we’re still in the honeymoon phase of ownership, but we’re convinced that choosing a catamaran was the right decision. Our catamaran ticked far more boxes than it left empty. We now have the space to host friends and family for months, using solar energy alone to meet our daily needs.

I love the way she sails and being able to cover more miles in more comfort allows us to enjoy the places we arrive at sooner, and experience for longer. Every time I step onto the deck, I’m astounded and grateful that we now call Agápē Nui our home.

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