A Proven Hull Design, Creature Comforts and More

I'm standing at the helm of Hatteras's 68 Convertible while running full tilt into a head sea that looks like something straight out of Deadliest Catch, when it hits me: This is the first boat I've ever sea trialed that tells the seas which way to go, instead of vise versa. There's a series of curling five-footers dead ahead? Big deal—with 126,500 pounds of fiberglass and iron, the Hatteras kicks them to the curb.

If you want a boat that lets you take charge of your own destiny instead of allowing nature to make the calls, this is a ride you have to experience.

I'm standing at the helm of Hatteras's 68 Convertible while running full tilt into a head sea that looks like something straight out of Deadliest Catch, when it hits me: This is the first boat I've ever sea trialed that tells the seas which way to go, instead of vise versa. There's a series of curling five-footers dead ahead? Big deal—with 126,500 pounds of fiberglass and iron, the Hatteras kicks them to the curb.

If you want a boat that lets you take charge of your own destiny instead of allowing nature to make the calls, this is a ride you have to experience.

INTELLIGENT DESIGN

Of course, in the extreme, there's no stopping Mother Nature. Even freighters and battleships are ultimately at the mercy of the seas. But any boater with half a brain and a NOAA weather report can tell the difference between normal conditions and abnormally rough ones. And long as there aren't small-craft warnings posted, the Hatteras 68 is in command.

Sheer mass isn't the only reason why this boat kicks big wave butt. Smart hull design is, too. Hatteras has been known for building good sea boats for decades, ever since its first fishing boat was constructed in 1960. The company doesn't like to change proven things. But it still wanted more from the 68 Convertible – more than what was traditionally expected by customers, captains, and keyboard-smacking, boat-testing fiberglass addicts like me. And Hatteras got it, with improved design features. The 68 has a variable-degree-deadrise hull with a convex entry, which reduces impact acceleration. The V in its hull tapers from 20 degrees amidships to two degrees at the transom. Yes, that's extremely flat, but remember that 126,500 pounds doesn't exactly fly out of the water with regularity. Even when the 68 is charging through the seas at nearly 40 mph, rarely does more than the forward quarter of the boat leave the water. That means the stagnation line (the point at which the hull bottom meets the water when the boat is on full plane) is quite sharp. Meanwhile, the flattened transom deadrise boosts stability and planning area. A pair of strakes bisects the stagnation line, further improving stability and also boosting tracking. The hull also incorporates a pair of deep propeller pockets, which keep draft down to 5 feet, 3 inches. That may sound like a lot, but consider the fact that a Viking 68 requires 5 feet, 5 inches; a Davis 70 needs 5 feet, 6 inches; and a Donzi Roscioli 65 draws 5 feet, 9 inches. The weight of each of these boats, by the way, exceeds that of the Hatteras by more than 10,000 pounds.

Of course, for a boat to feel solid underfoot, it has to be built solid. If hatches and doors start rattling or banging as you hit the waves, it'll feel like a rough ride. No such problem on the Hatteras 68. Construction techniques are the tried-and-true Hatteras method: The hull is solid fiberglass laid up with vinylester resin, backed by foam-cored stringers and vacuum-bagged composite bulkheads. The decks and hull sides are cored with high-density structural foam. Hardware is backed with pre-tapped aluminum plates, and in high-stress areas like the fighting chair base and flybridge seating bases, the pre-tapped plates are actually laminated into the deck; they won't come free come hell or high water.

The electrical system is another high point. Wiring harnesses are straight, tightly loomed, cushioned, and even marked for easy identification in case they need repair or modification. In the engine room and other visible areas, they're hidden behind protective valences. The same goes for plumbing lines. Hoses are double-clamped and supported so tightly you can't get a finger behind them in most places.

COMFORT ZONED

One reason why a boat of this nature must excel at seakeeping is to keep its passengers comfortable; if you spend more than $3 million on a boat, you dang well expect to enjoy yourself. Naturally, this extends to the boat's interior. When I entered the salon and sat down on the settee, I was treated to silky-smooth fabrics and poofy cushions that seemed form fitted to my frame. Then I took a look around at the cabinetry and woodwork finished in glossy cherry, the marble galley countertops, and the 42-inch plasma-screen TV. Yeah, I could be comfy in here. I did have a beef with the marble countertops, one that comes up often on luxury fishboats: They don't have fiddle rails. I'd like to see them added, so my margarita doesn't go sliding off the counter every time I troll in the trough.

The four-stateroom, four-head layout also ensures comfort. It includes a full-beam master suite amidships, with a king berth and a walk-in hanging locker. Yes, of course, it also has a private head. The surprise here is a pair of opening ports, a feature eliminated on most modern sportfishermen. They not only allow sunlight below decks, but also provide an escape hatch should the need ever arise. All staterooms have padded bulkheads and headliners, and there's a washer/dryer set into the companionway.

But the best detail is on the bridge deck. Check out the Hatteras Monitor System, a proprietary feature. A touch-screen inset in the dash displays a diagram of the entire boat. Tanks, bilge pumps, engine monitors, fuel pumps, and just about everything else you can imagine can be tapped and brought up on screen, giving you data at a moment's notice.

More cool stuff on the bridge deck: room for three 12-inch LCD screens on the power-actuated, disappearing electronics flat. Teaser reels are hidden overhead, there's room for a dozen guests to lounge on the lounge, an aft-facing seat is near the ladder for quick cockpit access, and a standard freezer and chill box keep your caviar fresh. Cool – but not as cool as the air conditioning vents up forward along the flybridge brow, which chills the entire bridge deck. In fact, I could locate just one place on the entire boat that wasn't cooled by the A/C system: the engine room. No matter, because you'll still find this space a lot comfier than most. Since the air-intake vents pull from under the gunwales instead of from hull-side vents, big baffle boxes and filters aren't necessary, and that opens up a ton of space outboard of the diesels.

Unfortunately, there is one place on the Hatteras where there is no comfort: the bow. It's cambered, and our test boat didn't have a bowrail, so it takes a brave soul with exceedingly sure footing to scoot forward. Even while the 68 was tied to the dock, I was nervous walking around the house and up onto the bow, and I did so in a crouch.

There won't be any crouching in the cockpit, though. Here you'll be stretching out as much as you like, because the Hatteras 68 has 192 square feet of wide-open deck space. Generally speaking, such a wide platform affects fishing, in that the rod tips could have difficulty clearing the gunwales when an angler is harnessed into the center-mounted fighting chair. Hatteras solved the problem by installing a double-offset chair that swings out in either direction. When combined with seven-foot boat rods, that moves the chair far enough to the sides to clear either gunwale, more than 20 feet apart.

Another problem anglers face with a huge cockpit is keeping all the tackle and gear well organized. Instead of several different tackle and rigging stations in different cockpit units, the 68 I tested had the fishing gear all together under the first section of the mezzanine deck. The second section housed a bait cooler, the third the engine-room entrance, and the fourth was a general stowage box filled with cleaning supplies. A chilled drink box was under the stairs to the salon. If you'd rather have a bait freezer here and a drink box there, it's a piece of cake. The mezzanine's modular design allows an owner to choose what goes where as the boat is constructed.

More about that fish-fighting arena: Take a look at that bridge-deck overhang, and notice how it's guttered and drained. That means it won't drip on you while you're standing in the cockpit. Why doesn't every builder do this? Anyone who's spent a serious amount of time on a sportfisherman of this nature has experienced the sudden shock of cold water hitting you in the back of the neck, as it drains helter skelter along all the edges of the overhang – yet this is only the third boat I've ever tested that actually had a gutter molded in here. Thank you, Hatteras.

Another way the Hatteras pampers you while you hang out in the cockpit is by keeping your head and lungs clear – literally. The passive exhaust system, which allows exhaust gas to pass through transom vents at idle, gets re-routed when the diesel horses hit 1,400 rpm or more. Backpressure then forces the exhaust to flow down and out through hull-bottom vents, so it doesn't blow back into the cockpit via the "station wagon effect," a common problem aboard convertibles. Net result: The cockpit stays fresh and free of fumes, and transom soot buildup is reduced.

Like they say on TV: But wait, there's more! Do you plan on backing down on billfish? I tested the action (no fish were involved, I'm sad to say) during our sea trial and piled water high against the transom while doing 7.5 mph in reverse, yet no water came in around the tuna door, and none back-flowed through the scuppers. The reason? A near-perfect seal on the door and internal flappers in the scuppers, which prevent water from flooding back into the cockpit.

So if you feel like burying the throttles and taking command of the seas, instead of letting the seas rule over you, do it from the helm of a Hatteras 68. Go forwards, go backwards, and go wherever you like. Because when you're running this boat, you're in charge of your own destiny.

Lenny Rudow was senior technical editor for Boating magazine for more than 10 years, and is currently the electronics editor for Marlin and GoBoating magazines.

Boat Sales | Market Sales