I will never forget the day when my husband Curtis and I began planning our cruise up the east coast of the USA, several months ago. We promised ourselves that we would NEVER leave port unless the wind was favorable, and we would NEVER sail under the pressure of a schedule or a time constraint. As I write this I am sitting in the salon of our 35’ sailing catamaran, Fellowship, as we plow through heaving 2-4 foot seas with the wind on our nose, trying to make it to Oregon Inlet on the North Carolina Outer Banks. We have to get to Florida to meet up with family, and the wind and the weather are not cooperating. 

      Before we left on our cruise with our three girls, Curtis said to me, “We will only sail when the wind is right. And if the wind is not right, we just won’t go, and if there is no wind at all, we just won’t go.” I didn’t realize what that meant at the time, but months later, as we sat becalmed in the middle of the Gulf Stream, offshore of Charleston, South Carolina, while a hazy, high pressure system dominated the atmosphere, I learned just how much of a die hard sailor my husband really is. 

     Don’t get me wrong, our sailboat has an inboard diesel engine, and we have used it, mainly for motoring in and out of port, but as soon as there is enough wind room, the sails go up, and its sailing time! We cut off that engine and it’s just us and the wind, the water and all their lovely harmonious sounds. But as we sat becalmed off the coast of South Carolina, at the beginning of our cruise north up the east coast this year, groaning at the lack of wind, I simply asked Curtis, “Why don’t we crank up the engine and go?” We had to be in New Jersey for a commitment in a couple of weeks, and it was starting to look like we would be pushing it to get there on time. 

     “I’m a blue water sailor, not a brown water motorer,” he declared, while we sat, for about two days, making only a couple of miles in the right direction.  

     We had (and have) a lot to be thankful for during our cruise up the coast, because we had dry cabins, all crew accounted for, plenty of provisions, and each other to keep ourselves company and spend quality time with our children. But we also had one more thing that most boats don’t carry, and the reason why I was so eager to suggest cranking up the iron genny: a tank full of soybean oil, commonly known as biodiesel. Purchased from a diesel distributor in Miami, Florida, biodiesel is fuel made from vegetable oils, such as corn, soy or even used fryer oils. It’s the ultimate in renewable energy, up there with ethanol, solar and wind, and perfect for the diesel engine. In fact, when the diesel was first invented and introduced at the World’s Fair in Paris in 1900 it was run on peanut oil. When we first heard about it we knew that biodiesel is what we wanted to fill Fellowship’s tank with, and we finally had!

     So, after the second cruising boat passed us going north, we finally broke our promise and Curtis fired up the Yanmar, and we set off, leaving in our wake the faint smell of burning cooking oil. After 12 hours of motoring we finally started to get a breeze, so we set the mainsail, then the jib, and finally the spinnaker, making good time towards our final destination in New Jersey, under soybean power the whole way.

     Normally we can’t wait to cut the motor, partially because we don’t like to burn petroleum, a non-renewable resource, and we don’t like the smell of conventional diesel fuel, as well as the impact it has on the environment. But, running biodiesel in our engine made us feel better about using the motor. We weren’t just motorsailing, we said to ourselves as we flew up the coast, we were powersailing!

     We still are going to try to stick to our promises, not leaving unless the wind is favorable and not having any schedules or constraints. But, now we know we can powersail when we really need to, and max out on energy the earth has to offer- wind for our sails, solar power for our electricity and soybean oil for our engine.;