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| The Starting Point: The Original Builder's Data Plate at ALCYONE's Helm |
Why Worry About Weight on a 16-Metre Catamaran?
Weight obsession is a chronic condition among performance multihull sailors, and very few escape it. I caught the virus more than fifty years ago—and, in truth, it is one illness you should never want to cure.
The seven multihulls I have owned have marked every stage of my life. Looking back at their stories soon became much more than a review of boats and technical choices. It turned into a journey through my own life, bringing back countless memories and the faces of people I had almost forgotten.
I couldn't resist mentioning a few of those names along the way. They may add a little weight to what is supposed to be the technical file of a boat for sale—but unlike unnecessary equipment, these memories don't slow a multihull down. They simply tell the story of the people, adventures, and experiences that shaped ALCYONE and the sailor behind her.
1) FROM 1974 CATYAK: THE START
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| Pure happiness and freedom, spending our summer holidays on this toy sailing the Bay of Cannes. |
1974 – With my younger brother Franck aboard Torfouyou, in the Bay of Cannes
My younger brother and I bought our very first boat brand new at the Paris Boat Show, then held at the CNIT exhibition centre. It was a CATYAK—essentially an Optimist rig mounted on two polyethylene hulls.
Every evening, we stored it beneath a small bridge at La Mirandole. Our favourite game was to assert our "sailing vessel's right of way" between Île Sainte-Marguerite and Palm Beach in Cannes. No licence, no permit, no regulations to worry about—just our first taste of absolute freedom.
Before long, sailing two-up gave way to taking turns sailing solo. The little catamaran was faster, capsized less often, and was far more enjoyable to sail that way.
Weight… already! Even then, reducing weight was becoming an obsession—a theme that would follow me throughout the next fifty years of multihull sailing.
2) 1980 HOBIE CAT 16: THE FIRST COSTAL EXPEDITION
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| Excerpt from "From Provence to Morocco: 1,100 Miles on a Hobie Cat 16", published in Voiles et Voiliers, Issue No. 122. |
1980 – With Jean-Louis aboard Top Loisirs on a coastal raid from France to Morocco
By the end of my studies, my greatest ambition had been to collect every possible sporting qualification. Money was scarce, but luck was on our side: John Dinsdale, the local Hobie Cat dealer, loaned us a Hobie Cat 16 for our first real coastal adventure.
The plan was simple: sail from one Club Med to the next, all the way from Saint-Tropez to Al Hoceïma, Morocco.
Then came Gibraltar.
Crossing the Strait was the real challenge. Our waterproof bags, piled high on the trampoline, were bursting at the seams. The local military yacht club turned out to watch our departure. They had taken us under their wing after our brief stay in jail for an illegal entry into Gibraltar!
Just as we left the harbour, a violent katabatic gust flipped the catamaran over like a pancake. Embarrassed in front of our audience—but secretly rather proud—we righted her, climbed back aboard dripping wet, and continued across to Ceuta.
Weight... once again! Every extra kilogram carried high on the trampoline made the boat more vulnerable. It was another lesson that reinforced a principle which would stay with me throughout the rest of my multihull sailing life.
3) 1983 – PRINDLE 16: A NEW WORLD, A NEW CHALLENGE
Jean-Luc's book, together with two photographs reproduced from the article "2,700 km on a Prindle 16", published in Voiles et Voiliers, Issue No. 153.
With Jean-Luc aboard Club Med on a coastal expedition from Galveston (Texas) to Cancún (Mexico)
In 1981, a small advertisement in L'Express changed my life. I joined DECATHLON when the company had only five stores. Working days ran from 9:00 a.m. to 7:30 p.m. (8:00 p.m. on Saturdays), on the famous green carpet, welcomed by Gérard and his remarkable northern French team.
Once my rent for a modest apartment and the payments on my Méhari were covered, very little remained from my minimum wage. Fortunately, windsurfing was booming, and the sea was never too far away. First came weekends in Belgium with Christophe and Benoît, then countless sessions at Wissant with Eric, his brother Jean-Claude, Pascal and many others.
My responsibilities at DECATHLON quickly grew as I joined the newly created Villeneuve-d'Ascq headquarters, turning my passion into a career. But the job left little time for anything else. Living like a monk wasn't enough to justify staying so far from home, and little Fabienne arrived in my life just a bit too late.
So I resigned.
Another coastal catamaran adventure was taking shape: sailing from Texas to the Yucatán Peninsula. Thanks to Jean-Luc—who also left DECATHLON—we secured several sponsors and were able to acquire a Prindle 16 in Texas. Once again, Pierre helped us by arranging our arrival at Club Med Cancún, in exchange for naming the boat Club Med.
The great pioneering days of Club Med were coming to an end, but I stayed on for a season as a photographer working with Jacqueline.
And what does all this have to do with weight?
Two weeks before reaching Cancún, while sailing along the Yucatán coast, the forward aluminium crossbeam suddenly cracked. One hull had become completely flooded. Dragging the catamaran up the beach every evening to camp ashore had gradually worn a hole through the bottom of the starboard hull—damage we had failed to notice. Wave after wave, litres of seawater filled the hull until the extra weight and twisting loads became too much for the crossbeam.
Weight... once again. Every unnecessary kilogram eventually demands its price.
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| Tei Wan Beach Just 30 minutes from office: one of the magical places in the then free Hong Kong. |
5) 1995–1996 – CORSAIR F31: THE SHARED DREAM
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| Excerpt from the article "From Antibes to Bora Bora: 15,000 Miles on a 9.5-Metre Trimaran", published in Voiles et Voiliers, Issue No. 324. |
With Helena aboard Sale Gosse on a half circumnavigation
In 1993, my adventure with DECATHLON finally came to an end. It wasn't an easy decision. We had built something remarkable with an extraordinary team of people, but it was time to move on.
Helena and I wanted to create our own family adventure, just as many of our friends already had. We needed a project strong enough to break away from our everyday lives—a dream that belonged entirely to us.
That dream became SALE GOSSE, an extraordinary Corsair F31: a 9.2-metre folding trimaran with carbon crossbeams, light enough to be towed behind a vehicle of almost the same weight.
Two more years of work, mainly in Spain, allowed us to build the cruising budget. Then the little trimaran was shipped to the Caribbean. We were married in Grenada before setting off across the Panama Canal and the Pacific, eventually reaching French Polynesia.
The Corsair's payload was limited to just 700 kg—five times less than ALCYONE's.
No windlass.
No refrigerator.
Very few spare parts.
Minimal tools.
No extra crew.
Limited water and provisions.
No powered dinghy.
No water toys.
But the greatest toy of all was the boat herself.
Steering Sale Gosse with a tiller was pure sailing pleasure. Even more importantly, her simplicity required very little maintenance. Instead of spending our time repairing equipment, we spent it discovering new places, meeting local people and sharing unforgettable moments with fellow sailors. Everywhere we stopped, people seemed to adopt us immediately.
At first, with such a limited payload, we weighed every single item before bringing it aboard. Eventually, as often happens, we became a little less disciplined.
The lesson came between the Marquesas and the Tuamotus.
The trimaran began taking in water inside the structure every time she slammed into a wave. The laminate had started to separate around the folding beam attachments, allowing seawater to penetrate the hull. We had just loaded the boat with dozens of grapefruits, and a powerful Maramu wind finished the job.
Fortunately, we were able to slow the pace, reduce the loads, and carry out emergency epoxy repairs while still at sea. They held long enough for us to reach Makemo, and eventually Bora Bora.
This style of cruising is extraordinary. Whether sailing solo or as a couple, it offers an incomparable sense of freedom—but it is physically demanding and requires constant compromise.
Above all, it demands almost monastic discipline when it comes to controlling the weight carried on board.
Weight... always weight.
6) 1998–2004 – OUTREMER 55 LIGHT: THE FAMILY PROJECT
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| PAPOOSE, the last custom-built OUTREMER 55 Light, on the left at the Great Barrier Reef. |
With Helena and Jim aboard Papoose on a family full circumnavigation:
Our little trimaran returned to Europe inside a 40-foot container, but the dream was far from over.
This time, we wanted to set off with our young son and complete a full circumnavigation.
The philosophy had changed.
No more living with the constant obsession of saving every kilogram. Speed still meant safety at sea, but now we needed a much larger multihull.
At the time, the first generation of French performance cruising catamarans was emerging. The extended Outremer 38 was an outstanding and affordable boat, but it would still have required the same relentless discipline about weight. The Outremer 45 had not yet been launched.
Years later, in 2016, I spent three weeks sailing my brother's Outremer 45 in Vanuatu (see my article in Multicoques, No. 177, On the Way to Vanuatu). It is an excellent yacht, but I have never regretted our decision. The 50-foot series—and even more so the 55—offers a completely different level of performance and comfort at sea.
With boat prices still relatively reasonable in those days, we chose an Outremer 50 Light. It cost almost half the price of a Catana 47, offered better performance than a Fountaine Pajot Bahia, involved far less financial risk than building one of the brilliant Fioléau designs in an exotic country, and seemed a safer technical choice than commissioning one of CATANA's early one-off prototypes.
Looking at the brokerage market in 2026, I still believe it was the right decision.
Very quickly, we were attracted by the possibility of adding the practical aft scoops. Gérard Danson and Daniel Cailloux eventually built PAPOOSE, our custom-built Outremer 55 Light, hull No. 7 of the series.
After meeting the six previous owners during the design process, we still managed to reduce weight in several areas. The nacelle was shortened in favour of a huge trampoline, the gangway was eliminated, and the interior plywood floors were replaced with lightweight balsa sandwich panels. I even attacked the berth supports with a hole saw until they looked like Swiss cheese.
Old habits die hard...
Yet something had fundamentally changed.
We never weighed a single item before bringing it aboard. During a circumnavigation, stopovers are frequent and provisioning opportunities are everywhere. Jim was still young, we almost never carried more than one guest at a time, and compared with our tiny Corsair trimaran, the payload available felt enormous.
For the first—and only—time in fifty years of multihull sailing, weight was no longer something we had to worry about
7) 2017-2026: BACK TO AN OUTREMER 55LIGHT: BEST CHOICE FOR PACIFIC CRUISING
2017–2021: Back to the Pacific, with Helena on a Pacific Circumnavigation (check details on blog)
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| Jim enjoying the lazy wired autopilot while sailing around Vancouver Island in 2019. |
When we completed our first circumnavigation, Helena and I had made a deal. It was time to return to an almost normal family life. Jim was six years old and deserved a proper childhood and twelve years of schooling.
We first spent four wonderful years in the French Alps, at Hauteluce, where skiing at Les Saisies became a family passion. Then came two years in Hong Kong, where Jim discovered sailing in the Optimist class, before six years in Cannes, racing 420s with his talented crew Victor, grandson of the unforgettable Jean-Louis Chadoutaud, former president of the Antibes Yacht Club. Under the guidance of their outstanding coach, Julien Lacaze, they became French Under-18 Champions in 2016.
Despite this success, Jim chose not to join the elite sailing programme at SKEMA. Instead, he decided to study in New Zealand.
The nest was empty once again.
Nothing prevented us from returning to the Pacific. The only question was whether I should sail alone on another Corsair F31... or whether Helena and I should once again choose a larger catamaran.
The answer was ALCYONE.
We had first noticed her when she stopped in Nouméa a few years earlier because she looked remarkably similar to PAPOOSE. In 2017 she had been stored for a very long time at Norsand Boatyard in Whangārei, New Zealand. She was the last Outremer 55 Light still waiting on the enormous dry dock.
Although only six years separate the construction of PAPOOSE and ALCYONE, the Outremer yard had continued refining the design, improving structural strength while reducing weight through better materials and construction techniques.
After a minimum refit, ALCYONE's first season transformed her into what we jokingly called a floating annex of the Carrefour supermarket in Nouméa.
The refrigerator is deliberately small (135 litres), the freezer remains disconnected most of the time, and most of our long-term food supplies are stored as canned goods. After discovering how much sugar was hidden in many canned products sold throughout Oceania, we chose to buy almost exclusively French brands—even at New Caledonian prices.
Fortunately, an Outremer 55 offers plenty of storage space... even beneath the saloon table.
And after several uncomfortable days at sea—or freezing conditions leaving the Canadian coast—few things compare with opening a tin of duck confit.
Before leaving for the Southern Ocean in March 2019 (see Blog 1903), we carried out the only complete weight survey ever performed aboard ALCYONE.
We first removed nearly 100 kg of unnecessary equipment, carefully balanced the load between the two hulls, reduced the amount of water carried, and finally departed with approximately 3,042 kg of equipment aboard, including 375 kg of provisions.
Since 2021: Living part time in the Tuamotus (sea blog)
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| 28 june 2026– Behind the barrier reef at Amanu: exceptionally calm conditions for the austral winter. |
Since sharing ALCYONE with Bertrand in 2021, we have become slightly less obsessive about food supplies—except every two years before leaving Tahiti after a haul-out, when another major provisioning expedition to Carrefour Papeete becomes unavoidable.
There are no restaurants and no fuel available on Amanu.
Fortunately, supplies have become easier to obtain. The cargo schooners now provide regular deliveries from Tahiti, while Hao has become increasingly well supplied following the arrival of French military families.
Some things, however, never change.
We still believe in leaving with full tanks and carrying comprehensive spare parts.
Fresh Water
Keeping the water tanks full preserves water quality and provides an essential safety reserve if the watermaker fails. Even without the watermaker, we always have at least 400 litres available, supplemented whenever possible by rainwater collection. Bertrand, who spent many years cruising without a watermaker, still prefers carrying an additional 100 litres.
Diesel
Full fuel tanks provide the freedom to motor all the way to the Marquesas should weather conditions ever require it. Keeping the tanks full also reduces condensation, limits microbial growth and, together with regular BioBor treatment, helps preserve fuel quality.
Spare Parts and Water Toys
Some of the equipment we still carry may no longer be strictly necessary while based in Amanu. Supplies now reach us far more easily than they did a few years ago.
Yet ALCYONE has cruised very little during the past four years—barely one hundred engine hours annually—and we have chosen to keep everything aboard.
Perhaps her future owner will want to leave the beaten track, undertake new modifications, or prepare for another ambitious voyage.
Or perhaps, if she is still with us after September 2026, she will once again sail to New Zealand...
...or simply return home to Amanu.
| 21 June 2026– With stronger trade winds, the lagoon remained flat behind Amanu's east coast motus. |
2026 – ALCYONE FOR SALE: Final Thoughts on Weight Saving
Before putting ALCYONE up for sale, we decided to inventory EVERYTHING, weigh EVERYTHING, and organise EVERYTHING logically.
Every item has been carefully sorted, with small parts stored in plastic boxes of various sizes, making it quick and easy for the future owner to decide what should remain on board and what can be removed.
The result is a complete and transparent weight survey.
The 2025 weighing was carried out with all tanks full (fuel, fresh water, gas cylinders and jerrycans), but without provisions or crew. For a cruising couple with their personal belongings, simply allow approximately 180 kg in addition to the figures shown below.
3,300 kg: Only 158 kg More Than in 2019
The complete 2025 weight survey gives a total payload of 3,300 kg, only 158 kg more than the comparable 2019 survey (3,042 kg), despite eight more years of Pacific cruising...but spi disappear ...
For everyday cruising around the Tuamotus—or almost anywhere else—this is absolutely not an issue for a couple. However, before setting off on another long-distance voyage, I would reduce the load slightly, starting with the liquids:
- Fresh water, thanks to frequent rainwater collection and the watermaker.
- Diesel fuel, of which we deliberately carry a large safety reserve, sufficient to motor all the way to the Marquesas should a cyclone threaten the Tuamotus. To minimise condensation, we never empty the fuel tanks by more than 25%.
- A careful combination of both, depending on the planned itinerary.
ALCYONE: A World of Containers
The price—in both weight and convenience—for keeping everything clean, organised and immediately accessible.
- 88 sealed transparent storage boxes
- 11 XXL
- 3 XL
- 9 Large
- 25 Medium
- 21 Small
- 16 XS
- 3 XXS
- 15 open baskets and storage bins
- 27 jerrycans
- 8 × 20 L (diesel)
- 2 × 12 L (dinghy fuel and cabin heater)
- 14 × 10 L (6 diesel, 8 fresh water)
- 3 × 5 L (diesel)
- 4 gas cylinders
- 2 butane
- 2 CO₂ cylinders for the SodaStream
Plus the folding shopping trolley, removable water tank, rubbish bin, shark-proof fish container, storage bags, stainless-steel and fishing organisers, Tupperware containers… and, of course, bottles!
So What Is Her Real Lightship Weight?
The original Outremer brochure quoted a displacement of 7.5 tonnes, a figure that has long been debated among owners.
I have never had either of my Outremer 55 Lights weighed completely empty. Other owners have done so, but usually with equipment already aboard.
Without tanks, tools, spare parts or cruising equipment—but including sails and the dinghy—I estimate that a typical Outremer 55 Light weighs somewhere between 9 and 10 tonnes before loading for cruising.
Ultimately, however, the exact number matters less than the boat's behaviour at sea.
The photographs throughout this blog were taken with ALCYONE carrying full tanks, all her cruising equipment, and two people on board. She has repeatedly demonstrated her ability in demanding offshore conditions.
One experienced Outremer owner once told me that every additional 500 kg costs about one-third of a knot when sailing hard on the wind.
ALCYONE was never intended to be a racing catamaran. During long-distance cruising, there is rarely any reason to spend days beating to windward—we usually have the time to wait for better conditions.
Weight saving therefore has its limits. For example, we deliberately kept conventional gel batteries because they remain reliable, economical and well suited to our cruising programme.
The narrow hulls offer less spece and naturally discourage excessive loading. Even fully loaded, however, ALCYONE remains remarkably fast.
In practice, the single most important variable is not equipment...
It is water.
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| Our secret food storage beneath the saloon table. |
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| Our cheap HK Temple Street Market scale |
