Provisioning for passages over 1000nm

Every passage provisioning list I've seen in the last five years lists 'two weeks of food' as if that means the same thing in 40°N as it does in 15°S, as if your crew eats the same on day three as they do on day twelve, and as if you can actually cook when it's blowing 30 knots on the beam for seventy-two hours straight.

TLDR

• Calorie requirements increase 15-20% after day five at sea due to cold, motion, and watch-standing fatigue, but appetite drops, creating a provisioning paradox that most lists ignore.
• Fresh produce shelf life varies wildly by purchase location and storage method, with tropical markets yielding half the longevity of temperate climate produce for identical items.
• Your water calculation must account for seasickness, which can double per-person consumption through waste and cleaning in the first 96 hours.

The standard provisioning formula, one pound of food per person per day plus two gallons of water, works fine until it doesn't. It breaks down around day eight when the lettuce has gone to slime, the bread shows its first spot of mold, and your crew is too tired to chew anything that requires effort. The formula assumes a static system. Offshore is anything but static.

Start with water because it's binary. You either have enough or you're rationing, and rationing 600 miles out is how you turn a passage into an ordeal. The two-gallon figure comes from coastal sailing assumptions, one gallon for drinking and cooking, one for washing. Add seasickness to the equation and that number is fantasy. A crew member puking into the leeward cockpit drain goes through a liter of water just rinsing their mouth and face. Cleaning the head after a bad night takes another two liters if you want it sanitary. I calculate three gallons per person per day for the first four days, then drop to two gallons once everyone has their sea legs. On a fifteen-day passage with three crew, that's 117 gallons minimum, closer to 140 if you want margin. That's seven hundred pounds of water if you're tankage is full at departure. Your waterline will tell you if you planned correctly.

Fresh food longevity is where most provisioning fails. The cruising blogs show beautiful fruit bowls on passage day ten, but they don't mention that produce was bought in New Zealand in autumn and stored in a bilge that stays below 65°F. Try that same provisioning strategy departing Panama in June and your bananas are black by day four, your tomatoes are mush by day six. I've tested this across three oceans. Tropical produce has shorter shelf life because it's bred for fast growth cycles and higher sugar content. Temperate produce, especially root vegetables, has evolved for storage. Cabbage from a California market will last three weeks if kept dry. Cabbage from a Mexican mercado might give you ten days.

Storage method matters more than most cruisers admit. Eggs last six weeks unrefrigerated if they've never been refrigerated, which means buying from markets that don't refrigerate them. Once an egg has been chilled, the protective bloom is compromised and you've got maybe ten days before the yolk breaks down. I've learned to crack each egg into a separate cup before adding it to a pan because one bad egg will ruin your breakfast and your morale on the same morning. Onions and potatoes can't be stored together. Onions release moisture and ethylene gas. Potatoes absorb both and sprout in days instead of weeks. They need separate, ventilated bins, which means dedicating locker space most cruisers think they don't have until they're throwing away sprouted potatoes south of Bermuda.

Caloric density becomes critical after the first week. Your body is burning more calories from cold, motion, and disrupted sleep, but your appetite is suppressed from fatigue and the motion itself. This is the provisioning paradox. You need more fuel exactly when you want to eat less. The solution is calorie-dense food that requires minimal preparation. Nuts, nut butter, dried fruit, cheese that doesn't require refrigeration, cured meats, dark chocolate. These aren't luxuries. They're systems insurance. A crew member who isn't eating enough will make mistakes. Mistakes offshore have compounding consequences.

I provision in reverse now. I plan the last five days first because that's when energy is lowest and conditions are often worst as you approach a coastline. What can I prepare in under ten minutes that delivers 600 calories and doesn't require fresh ingredients? Then I plan the middle days, when the ship's routine is established but fatigue is building. Finally, I plan the first three days, when everyone still has optimism and the ability to stand in a galley that's moving. This method ensures you're not planning fresh fish tacos on day twelve when nobody has the energy to filet a mahi.

Redundancy in staples is non-negotiable. If your passage plan assumes twelve days but weather adds four, you can't stretch rice and pasta backwards. I carry 50% more staples than the calendar suggests and I accept the weight penalty. An extra twenty pounds of rice and dried beans is invisible to boat performance but visible in crew morale when you're on day sixteen and still eating real meals instead of rationing freeze-dried backpacker food that tastes like salted cardboard.

The biggest provisioning failure I see is assuming you'll cook like you do at anchor. You won't. Anything that requires more than one pot, sustained attention, or precise timing will get abandoned when you're tired. I've made three-course meals at anchor and eaten peanut butter from the jar with a spoon on passage day nine. Both were correct decisions for the conditions. Your provisioning list should reflect what you'll actually do in a seaway, not what you're capable of doing tied to a dock.

By Sara Voss