WET WX GEAR
(also known as oilskins because early versions were canvas waterproofed with oil or wax)
January 18, 2007
by Michel & Jane DeRidder

In the beginning, in BC where we sailed year-round on our 24-footer, we wore Cowichan Indian sweaters under our oilskins, with towels around our necks to staunch the leaks. It was at that time that we developed an aversion to sailing out in the weather, tiller in hand. It didn't take long for the drop board in the companion way hatch to develop a neatly cut and finished slit, to accommodate an extension to the tiller, enabling us to sit in the cabin out of the rain and spray, looking out the wee forward windows. Under sail with the wind vane steering, we could keep watch from below. Powering, we could hold the course with the tiller extension. All of which helps explain Magic Dragon's enclosed cockpit with sheltered steering and sail handling systems.

Foul weather gear for the tropics.

At sea we have seldom needed oilskins, for not only do we have a fully sheltered cockpit, but the boat steers itself so there is no need to sit out in the elements gripping the tiller. We seldom need to take the helm even in our sheltered cockpit. We have made several ocean crossings without once putting on oilies. However we do don our wet weather gear to anchor or go ashore on rainy days, or to reef in wet weather or in lashings of spray. In tropical downpours we wear jackets only. Bare legs are so easy to dry.

For our needs we go to industrial warehouses - suppliers to fishermen, farmers and orchardists - to replace our 'oilies'. It's a matter not just of cost, but of bulk and weight. We choose bright yellow suits rather than the dull green or khaki ones. We know nothing about the taste sharks may have for that color. We do however have one set of bright rescue orange long-lasting heavy French oilskins (called 'cirés', pronounced 'seeray' from the word for wax). These heavy but supple garments were tossed our way years ago by French racing sailors when they switched to something more up market. They are our heavy weather reefing gear, also worn for shore going in deluges. They are seldom worn so have survived for over a quarter of a century, outliving any of our cheaper ones by many years.

In Canada during the winter we wore so-called float coats, lined with closed cell foam rubber insulation. But these did not satisfy a coast guard crew stopping us in our dinghy. We needed approved life jackets even if those would not give any protection from the cold waters we were in. These days Michel has what I tell him is a "convenient malady"; his fingers go white and stiff in cold climes so we don't choose to sail in freezing areas. Because we avoid cold weather destinations, we have never needed expensive elaborate suits. One of the biggest changes over the years we have cruised is the huge amount of money sunk into gear of every sort, from wet wx gear to navigation instruments and everything in between. In the sixties it cost little to sail offshore because we made do with simple things, and we still do. We have never really needed racing sailors' wet weather gear, which is not to say it would not have come in handy on occasion, dealing with emergencies on deck in storms, for instance.

In tropical climes, rather than carry our oilskin jackets ashore, we take large clear plastic bags that have head and arm holes cut in them. They fold flat, take very little room in our backpacks and weigh next to nothing. For the same reasons we made cloaks out of clear plastic, large enough to cover our back packs, great to wear in downpours on the motorcycle or in the dinghy. People look at us askance as though we were some alien beings, when they see us walking about like the hunchback of Notre Dame, or speeding by on our Honda wearing these cloaks.

Cape, folded.

Once, in pre-McDavitt days, fellow cruisers came by to discuss the wx fax charts we were managing to get on our Toshiba 1200H laptop screen. We agreed we would have strong but favourable winds with the 1042mb high just showing up on the edge of the chart. They set sail for a different destination, leaving a yellow oilskin jacket behind on Magic Dragon, one identical to ours. We didn't even notice it for a couple of days. It was a boisterous passage, one in which their second foul weather jacket could have been needed badly. We managed to contact them on ham radio to arrange a drop off/pick up place for us to leave it and for them to retrieve it.

Rain hats are useful.

French friends leaving for New Caledonia from New Zealand did not even have any oilskin trousers because they are so used to sailing in warm latitudes. They too rely on windvane steering and like us, have a sheltered cockpit, so perhaps it did not matter.