The Boat of My Dreams

After the boats I saw in California, I was wondering if 1) my budget was unrealistic or 2) I'd have to go to the east coast to find a suitable vessel.  One thing was abundantly clear, however: You cannot trust a sailboat listing at all.  Pictures lie.  The boats that looked best online turned out to be total dogs, some that were vague with blurry pictures turned out to be pretty clean and stout.

Thus, I lined up eight different showings in OR, WA, and BC.  The first one I looked at was a 33' Cape Carib ketch in St. Helens, OR.  It had tons of space, but the price was a little high and it would've needed lots of work to be ready to go offshore.  I decided to keep it in my back pocket and check out the others. 

Cape Carib 33 Ketch - forgive the shitty camera phone picture

The boat that I had been lusting after for a long time was in Ballard, WA.  It was a Pearson Triton that had been outfitted for open ocean racing and despite its outlandish paint job, it looked immaculate in the posting and I was confident it'd be my front-runner.  It was located at the edge of an industrial area and the marina was dirty and run-down.  When I finally got out to the boat, I found it to be a total piece of crap.  It was filthy, everything on it was half-assed, and after fifteen minutes of poking around it - I went on my way.

OH THE HORROR! - Boat fire waiting to happen...

Delam everywhere!

One day, I made the trek up to Vancouver to take a peek at a Contessa 26 from a Craigslist posting.  The seller told me to meet at the Maritime Museum and we would row out to the boat (which was anchored in Vancouver harbor).  I got the impression he would be a unique guy.

I crossed the border earlier in the day so I would have plenty of time to navigate around Vancouver and find the meeting spot.  I neglected to consider, however, that I was traveling in my truck - which was packed completely full of stuff and the border guards didn't take kindly to that.  I got flagged into the "additional scrutiny" zone and they gave me the riot act for an hour and a half, asking me dozens of questions and searching the truck from top to bottom.  They apparently thought I was trying to sneak into Canada to remain there forever.  Is it really so strange that someone would be traveling with all their possessions to look at a boat in Vancouver?  Hmm... yeah, I guess that is pretty strange.

Contessa 26 in the foreground

I ended up meeting the seller on the beach in his inflatable dingy and we rowed out to his boat and talked for hours.  He had owned his own business, raised a family in the suburbs, and spent years slaving away for monetary gain.  Eventually he realized how little happiness that brought him and he decided to move onto a tiny sailboat.  It had clearly changed his life and he was one of the happiest guys I've ever met.  He had tons of incredible stories to tell, and though the boat wasn't anything to write home about, I drove back south with a big smile on my face and a lot more hope that things would work out alright.

There was a glorious sunset at the border crossing

The following day I had two appointments - the morning ended up being a dud, and the broker for the afternoon listing (a Tripp 30) called and said he couldn't make it because he had car troubles.  "Here we go again!" I thought, but he gave me the code to get in the gate and I went to take a look at it anyway.  As I strode up to the boat, I was immediately taken by it.  It had graceful lines, but a sturdy presence.  The second I stepped aboard, I knew she was the one.  I searched in vain for almost an hour to find some sort of major flaw, but she was clean, exceptionally stout, and just the right size and shape for the voyage ahead.  

The golden moment

I called the broker back and told him I was interested and asked about the boats owners, its history, and how flexible the price was. It sounded like I was in luck.  That following morning, I made a formal offer and started lining up a haul-out and survey.  

Hoisted way up in the air

The surveyor picked over the boat with a fine tooth comb and found no major cause for concern.  I spent the afternoon in a daze, sitting on the boat, basking in the glow of the past few days.

She was built in 1960, right at the beginning of the era when fiberglass was introduced.  In that day and age, nobody understood just how strong fiberglass was, and as a result, she is built with the thicknesses and construction that you'd expect in an older wooden boat... which means shes strong as a bull and she can take a lot of abuse and punishment.  She was built in Holland and imported through New York, so though she is branded as a Seafarer, she was built in an industrial shipyard in Europe.  Shes covered in brass fittings and accented with lots of rich, varnished wood.  Shes quite clean and tidy (especially in comparison with other boats I looked at) and she even has lots of extra accessories, like a dingy and a tiller-pilot.  The sails are exceptionally heavy duty and they were made by Schattauer Sails specifically for offshore cruising.  They're almost 20 years old, but they still look and feel brand new.  I think my favorite part about the interior is the little  wood stove that heats her.

That ought to keep the chill out!

The closing is happening tomorrow and I've already started to clean her out and move my stuff on.  I'll be spending the next few months in the Bellingham area, sailing her around the bay, making additions/changes, and getting ready for the voyage to come.  I'm planning a christening ceremony sometime in April where I'll re-name her and perhaps do a little bit of partying.  More details to come.