Trimaran ‘No Name’ — One Thing Leads to Another

Stephen Wolf called our office a while back and described a sailing adventure in the ’70s. The more he told us, the more we wanted to hear. It was a 10-year, 40,000-mile circumnavigation on a 24-ft trimaran with a crew of two that started in Gashouse Cove. He sent some classic photos and a vignette of one leg of his and wife Margo’s amazing voyage.

Our boat, No Name, was a Piver-designed Nugget trimaran sloop built by Cox Marine in England and imported to the US in the mid-’60s. At 24-ft by 24-ft with a draft of 18 inches, it was a trailerable boat with fold-down floats. A nicely built and finished boat, built as a daysailer with a small, open dog house. The interior had a five-foot settee and a ball head. Gasketed plexiglass windows provided great visibility. It weighed 1,000 lbs. and could carry an additional 1,000 lbs. A motor was left ashore in Hawaii when my future wife Margo came aboard. We carried 12 sails ranging in size from a 25-square-foot spanker to a 300-square-foot drifter. Self-steering was fitted but there were no electrical devices other than flashlights. A sextant was used for position finding. A Sea Swing single-burner gimbaled stove, originally using Sterno, was used for cooking. Fitted with a pop-up aluminum rudder and a large daggerboard, it was a fast and stable boat, and comfortable in most conditions. Through our trip it was greatly modified. No Name proved to be an excellent and seaworthy craft, accomplishing some remarkable passages. It was also a very forgiving boat. Through the ’70s, No Name carried us on an improbable journey, logging some 40,000 miles.

We had spent several years in the tropical Pacific and made our way west. Decided to give New Guinea a try, then Indonesia, Cocos Keeling and the Seychelles, where we would have to decide how to get to the Atlantic. The Red Sea or the Cape of Good Hope? We were leaning toward the Cape of Good Hope, as the Red Sea passage is very difficult for a sailing vessel. That is until the skipper of the barkentine Black Pearl offered us a tow up the Red Sea if we could get to Djibouti on our own. The offer of a tow was one we could not refuse.

We cut short our time in the Seychelles and met the Pearl in time to secure a tow. We set off in tow for a carefree trip to the Med. It was not to be. The Pearl was unable to make headway against the eight-foot waves. The prop would break through the surface and would spin as the swell passed underneath the hull. They turned around and beat a hasty and lovely retreat under full canvas, returning to Djibouti. We continued on but could not make any significant progress and soon followed the Pearl. It was a magnificent sail.

The Pearl was broken down and required major work. The skipper left and a skeleton crew remained, awaiting money and a new command. A month later we tried again on our own but without success. A new skipper and crew found the Pearl heading north without No Name astern. We were stuck in North Africa, believing it was not practical to head south around the Cape, yet the Red Sea was perhaps too much for us. We lived and worked in Djibouti, gaining local knowledge from the dhow captains and nautical books, charts and logs. In December there is often a short window when the wind blows southerly up the Red Sea as far as Jedda. We decided to give it a try.

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