The Catamaran Lie: Multihulls Are Reshaping Sailing

Sailors with 30-year careers say catamarans are not real sailing. Families with kids say catamarans are the best thing to happen to the sport since GPS. Both are wrong about each other.

I've spent the last decade sailing both: monohulls from Bavaria 40s to Hallberg-Rassys, catamarans from Lagoon 42s to Fountaine Pajot Elba 45s. I've raced in 35-knot gusts on a J/109, and I've motored across flat-calm seas in a Bali 4.4 while someone made risotto in the galley. I know both worlds. And the thing I'm most certain of is this: the debate itself is broken.

Here's my position, stated plainly: catamarans are legitimate sailing, and gatekeeping is toxic. But the loss of sailing feel is real, and pretending it doesn't matter is dishonest. Let me show you why.

The Case Against Catamarans , Stated Fairly

The critics are not all snobs. Some of them are making a point that deserves serious engagement.

The core argument is about feedback. On a monohull, heel is information. When the boat leans 15°, you feel the wind's power in your legs, your hands, your gut. You instinctively know when to ease the main, when to reef, when the gust has passed. The boat communicates with your body. This is not mysticism. It's biomechanics. Your vestibular system literally processes heel as data.

A catamaran eliminates most of that channel. It sails flat. A well-trimmed Lagoon 40 in 18 knots of breeze might heel 3-5°. You don't feel the wind building. You don't sense the limits. The first warning you get that you're overpowered is when the windward hull lifts, and by then, on some boats, you're already in trouble. This is why catamarans pitch-pole when monohulls round up: the failure mode is more binary, less gradual.

Then there's the marina problem. A 40-foot catamaran is typically 22-24 feet wide. A 40-foot monohull is about 13 feet. The cat takes nearly double the berth space. In crowded Mediterranean harbours, Greek marinas, Croatian marinas: this isn't abstract. It means smaller boats can't find space. Berth fees run 40-80% higher. Some harbours in the Kornati or the smaller Cyclades simply cannot take cats at all.

And the culture critique, however uncomfortable, has teeth. Walk through a charter marina in Split or Lefkada in July. The cats have music playing, people lounging on trampolines with cocktails, nobody looking at a sail. The monohull crews are bent over charts, arguing about tacking angles. You can call that elitism. You can also call it a different activity.

The harshest version of the critique: a catamaran is a floating apartment that happens to have a mast. Sailing is its secondary function. Comfort is its primary one.

The Case For Catamarans , Also Stated Fairly

Now let the defence speak. It's a strong one.

Start with families. A four-year-old on a monohull heeled at 20° is a scared, vomiting, miserable child. The same kid on a cat is eating lunch, looking at fish through the net, asking when they can jump in. Sailing with kids on a catamaran is not just easier. It's the difference between a family that comes back to sailing and one that never does. The sport's long-term survival depends on new people entering it. Gatekeepers should think about that.

Seasickness: let's be honest about it. Roughly 25-30% of first-time sailors experience some degree of motion sickness on monohulls. On catamarans, that number drops dramatically. The motion is different: less roll, more pitch, and the pitch is gentler. If your goal is getting people onto the water, cats remove the biggest physical barrier.

Draft changes everything about where you can go. A typical 40-foot monohull draws 1.8-2.1 metres. A comparable cat draws 0.9-1.2 metres. In the Bahamas, the BVI, the Ionian, Turkey's Turquoise Coast: that half-metre difference opens hundreds of anchorages that monohulls cannot reach. You see more of the sea, not less. Purists who claim cats separate you from the ocean have clearly never anchored in knee-deep turquoise water that no monohull could touch.

Then there's livability. On a week-long catamaran charter, you can cook a real meal underway. You can sleep in a cabin that doesn't require wedging yourself against a lee cloth. You can sit at the helm without bracing. Sailing was never supposed to be a penance. The idea that discomfort equals authenticity is a cultural hangover from an era when boats were simply harder to build well.

What the Data Actually Says

Opinions are interesting. Numbers are more interesting.

Catamaran share in Mediterranean charter fleets has grown from roughly 20% in 2015 to approximately 45% in 2025, according to industry data tracked by charter management platforms and fleet operators. That trajectory shows no sign of slowing. In some bases, Split and ACI marinas in Croatia, Lavrion and Lefkada in Greece, cats now exceed 50% of available inventory.

Charter clients pay a 30-50% premium for a catamaran over a comparable monohull. A Lagoon 40 in high season in Croatia books at approximately €4,500-5,500 per week. A Bavaria Cruiser 40 or Jeanneau Sun Odyssey 440 from the same base: €2,800-3,800 per week. People pay that premium willingly. Cats book earlier, too. The best catamarans for 2026 are already filling peak weeks.

Repeat booking rates tell the real story. Charter companies report that clients who start on a catamaran return at rates of 65-75%, compared to 50-60% for monohull first-timers. This isn't because cats are objectively "better." It's because they attract people who weren't sure they'd like sailing at all. The cat converts them. The monohull sometimes doesn't.

The 2026 charter market reflects this clearly: Lagoon, Fountaine Pajot, and Bali are running full order books. Monohull builders like Beneteau, Jeanneau, and Dufour are pivoting significant R&D budgets toward their catamaran lines. The market has spoken. You can argue with the market, but the market doesn't listen.

The Real Question Nobody Asks

Here's where both camps fail.

The purists define sailing by sensation: heel, spray, physical engagement with wind. By that definition, a catamaran is a lesser experience. Fine. But that definition is arbitrary. It's cultural, not physical.

A catamaran uses sails to harness wind to move across water. That's sailing. Full stop. The Polynesian voyagers who crossed the Pacific, the greatest sailors in human history, did it on multihulls. The proa, the outrigger canoe, the catamaran: these are not corruptions of sailing. They're among its oldest and most successful forms. The monohull as default is a European convention, not a law of nature.

When a Lagoon 42 is on a beam reach in 20 knots, doing 8.5 knots with its sails properly trimmed, it is sailing. The crew may not feel the heel that a monohull crew feels. But they are reading wind, trimming sheets, choosing angles. The physics are identical: a foil generates lift from moving air, and that force propels the vessel. The hull shape changes the experience. It does not change the physics.

The gatekeeping, when you strip it down, is about identity. "I suffered; therefore I'm a real sailor." "I learned to brace at 25° of heel; therefore my experience is more authentic." That's a psychological claim dressed up as a nautical one.

But here's where the catamaran evangelists go wrong: dismissing the sensation critique entirely is also dishonest. Something is lost. The deep, physical connection between body and boat that a well-sailed monohull provides is genuinely harder to find on a cat. Not impossible. But harder. If you've ever driven a manual sports car and then switched to an automatic SUV, you know the feeling. The SUV is better in almost every measurable way. But something intangible is gone. Acknowledging that isn't gatekeeping. It's honesty.

The Verdict

Catamarans are not ruining sailing. They are changing what sailing means to most people who do it. You can mourn the old definition, the heel, the spray, the cold bunk, the bruised shins, or you can sail the new one. Both are valid experiences of wind on water.

What's not valid is telling someone who just spent a week sailing from Lefkada to Corfu on a Fountaine Pajot that they weren't really sailing. They were. They just sailed differently than you.

The wind doesn't care which hull you have. It blows for both.

If you're choosing between the two for your first charter, read our guide to the key differences between monohulls and catamarans. If you've decided a cat is right, compare the three major catamaran brands. And if you're a purist who made it this far without throwing your phone: respect. Now go sail something with two hulls, just once, and report back.