Simplicity. Enough said.
Sail Area 365 sf. (100% Fore triangle)
It has been one of those weeks for you - work has taxed your patience to the max, the baby has been sick, and it seems like the telephone has not quit ringing. As the pressures of life only seem to be mounting, decompression time is finally here! You've rowed your dinghy out to where you have Simplicity moored, Heeding her quiet beckoning even before you arrived at water's edge. The squeak of the dinghy's oarlocks have finally given way to the gentle sound of wavelets tickling the yawl's lithe hull. You've boarded her, lunch pail in hand, and in a few short minutes her sail covers are off and stowed below. Looking around at the other moorings, you realize that there are boats tugging at their painters that have not been used in weeks, some because they take a crew the size of the Philadelphia Eagle's defensive line to run, one or two because some bit of electronic wizardry has gone AWOL. There are but a few others that persist, and you hear the sound of motors starting here and there, and occasionally get a whiff of diesel fumes as the breeze lofts them. Not for you though, as you hoist the mizzen, leaving the sheet hard and feeling her obediently face the wind at attention. Not a full minute later the jib is up, luffing a bit with the sheet paid out just a little. Now she is ready, now she is a bit impatient to do what she loves to do the most...
You drop her mooring line, let her fall off the wind just a bit, and feel her spring forward like a cat as the jib fills. A couple of minutes on this tack, a hitch over onto the other, and you are clear of the moorings and ready to add the main, easy to do with the cockpit-led halyards. Sheeting in the main and trimming the mizzen, and she's sliding along across the bay just as easily as the knots dropping out of your rope. A couple hour's worth of drinking in her gentle motion and admiring her flat wake, and the small cove you had in mind has volunteered itself yet again to you. You drop the main, back the jib, lash the tiller over, and Simplicity rewards you with a well-mannered hove-to while you contentedly attack the contents of your lunch pail.
After a brief nap stretched out on the cockpit seat you note that the breeze has freshened a bit, so you take the opportunity to throw a reef in the main. Better make it a double, just to be sure, as the center of the bay is likely to be spirited afternoon sailing this time of year. Bringing her round on a course approximately back toward her mooring -- but not precisely, as there is no rush -- and she is off. When she was launched last year, club members could not fathom her long keel, yawl rig, and uncluttered layout. There was no door in her transom to get to the built in swim platform - and no built in swim platform for that matter, no electronics to tell you how fast you are going or at what time you are going to arrive at your destination, no built in TV or stereo to mask the gurgling of the water against the hull. You smiled and enjoyed the questions, patiently answering their well-meaning but bedazzled awe based on your own change of heart regarding many of these points -- the long keel helps her track easily and minimizes leeway, and if you had wanted avionics you would be flying. Motors are for those who don't sail, and you came to sail, not swim anyway! You have an audiophile stereo system at home you can listen to tonight! And here is the proof in the pudding -- she's heeling with excitement and almost quivering like a bird dog on point as the breeze pushes her, yet she continues to glide with an easy motion and respond to your lightest touch on the helm, almost as if she is reading your mind.
All too soon it's time to drop the main and round up to catch the mooring. In less than 15 minutes her sails are covered, lines stowed, and you reluctantly slide the final drop-board home. What a shame the baby was sick -- you're spouse would have so loved this trip! As you lower yourself into the dinghy, you realize that your neighbor is sitting in the cockpit of his production boat sipping from a beer can. You wave, exchange pleasantries, and notice the cobwebs in the rigging. Perhaps we should have named the boat "Therapy..."