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Of course,
the proximity of the U-shape galley added zest to the cinematic activities.
Stowage for junk food was abundant, thankfully. Moreover, appurtenances
and appliances, which all bore top-shelf brand-names were cunningly arranged,
with a big Corian sink and lots of adjoining counter space below the side-window,
a Gaggenau oven set beneath a three-burner Force 10 cooktop against the
forward bulkhead, and a huge Whirlpool refrigerator-freezer installed
along the aft bulkhead in such a way that at least one of our number could
make secret raids with impunity, even during the day. But what really
put the frosting on the cake for me—or maybe it’s better to
say “the glazing on the doughnut” given the staggering number
of Krispy Kremes we devoured at Cat Cay—was the savvy use of Amtico
vinyl flooring on the galley’s sole. A dead ringer for teak planking,
the stuff’s far easier to clean and maintain. Mustard, pancake syrup,
trampled Cheetos—you name it, we swiped up goofs and spills with
little more than a damp sponge.
As to
sleeping arrangements, there were three instead of four staterooms onboard
our test boat because a laundry room with a home-sized washer and dryer
had been substituted for the standard, starboard-side crew’s quarters.
All were roomy and nicely outfitted: the forward VIP that I occupied,
the portside, two-berth guest that Finney and Hawn claimed, and the amidships
master where Branch ensconced himself. Although the en suite head in my
VIP, immediately abaft the chain-locker bulkhead, was located in a rather
unconventional spot, I soon discovered it was convienient and easy to
use. I especially enjoyed the separate stall shower—with rain pounding
down, I could crack the overhead hatch to let in just enough cold water
to be delightful and let out just enough steam to nix condensate on mirrors.
My only criticism stems from the challenge I encountered while trying
to read in bed—low, overhanging cabinetry at the head of the berth
made recumbent book-worming impossible, unless I stuffed the underlying
gap with pillows and blankets.
Inconveniences,
great and small, were absent from the engine room, however. Although the
65 is essentially a motoryacht, it obviously benefits from the same sea-savvy
engineering methods Ocean has been employing on its canyon-runners for
decades. The fuel tankage and transfer system, for example, is as logical
as it is simple: Gravity-fed plumbing obviates reliance on electrics to
pump and equalize fuel levels. Main engines are secured on foam-cored
fiberglass stringers with long, encapsulated slabs of bar-stock steel
inside, precisely drilled and tapped for isolation mounts. There was a
bulkhead-installed Reverso oil-exchange system that facilitates oil changes
and a couple of giant, thoroughly-illuminating A.C.-type fluorescent lights
overhead with backup D.C. incandescents nearby.
But
what of the seemingly extravagant assertions I began with? Was Hawn going
to be right about our trip across the Gulf Stream in the morning? Would
we do 25 knots? Or even 26?
At daybreak,
with virtually flat sea conditions in Cat’s narrow lee, we sea-trialed
the 65 from our climate-controlled, fully enclosed bridge. The ride was
smooth and so were the turns, thanks in part to Hynautic hydraulic steering.
Pompanette Prestige Series helm seats were comfortably adjustable and
the Glenndinning electronic controls mannerly, with easy-to-feel detentes.
Visibility was continuously excellent over the bow due to optimized running
angles, and sightlines to port and starboard were also good. A fully-outfitted
control station (with wheel, electronic engine control, and bow-thruster
joystick) on the comfy little sundeck abaft the bridge enclosure proffered
superb views of the transom for dockside maneuvering.
But
the run across the stream? Thanks to a supremely balanced, distinctly
un-motoryacht-like hull form with a 14-degree transom deadrise and sharp
entry, the 65 rocketed back to Fort Lauderdale at about 26 knots, according
to the Northstar 962 at the helm. She accomplished this feat in just under
two hours, greyhounding swells that averaged 16 feet at least, guided
almost exclusively by her Simrad Robertson AP22 autopilot.
Even
more astonishing was the fact that the 65 did all this without seriously
shaking anybody up, although an occasional plunge into an especially deep
chasm would tend to heighten stress levels momentarily. Ultimately though,
the ride began to feel so close to comfortable that Finney suggested another
game of cards.
I’m
still not sure if he was joking.
Ocean
Yachts Phone: (609) 965-4616. Fax: (609) 965-4914. www.oceanyachtsinc.com.
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