Category Archives: Preparing to cruise

A Cunning Plan, Perhaps Not So Little

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Stunned and amazed. Like a deer in headlights. When you take a left turn from the domain of logic and reason and engage with heart and soul, the experience can leave you almost breathless. These experiences come out of the blue and strike like lightning; fast and sharp, a bolt through the heart from the gods beyond the clouds. And when you just go with it and don’t resist, that’s when the magic happens. At least that’s our working hypothesis.

It began when we got a call on Thursday from our Yacht broker, Lee Youngblood, of Gig Harbor Yacht Sales. Lee’s been working with us for about a year and knows us pretty well by now, even though we continue to surprise him. His tone on my voice mail sounded emotional and I could tell he was trying to contain himself. “The owner of Flying Gull is getting ready to trade that boat in on an RV!  If you are even thinking of making an offer, now is the time. The other broker has people who might be interested and he’s calling them, too, to see if they might be serious.  I know you need to sell Moonrise, but maybe we can make a deal if you are serious about this boat. Call me!”

The boat in question

The boat in question

I reacted in my usual calm, self assured and reasonable way. I went and bought a pair of shoes so I could think about it. It’s spring and I had no flats to wear for work.

That night Mike and I had a little meeting of the minds about this thing over dinner. And we decided that we really do both love that boat, in spite of the fact that it is too big. Neither of us felt much concern about it being made of wood. We’re familiar with wood, love wood, know how to work on wood.  How can you beat a Sparkman and Stephens design for sheer beauty and sailing characteristics? It was built by the Henry C. Grebe boatyard, a yard famous for its quality. The provenance of this boat cannot be beat. And where could we ever find another boat with the kind of fascinating history this one has; one that appears to be in such good condition, with this amount of work having already been completed? For the right price, we could be ahead of the game with this boat, if the survey checked out. But the listing price was out of our ballpark. There is love, and then there is crazy love. We are not crazy, in spite of what some people say.

The wheelhouse that started it all.

The wheelhouse that started it all.

We called Lee and told him we were serious but we wanted to talk to the owner. We had a LOT of questions and were unimpressed by the amount of information we had so far. This was us being reasonable and thinking with our heads. And it was a bit of an effort, I can tell you, because I felt like the boat had already chosen us as the next caretakers, so it was going to take a lot to keep it from happening. But I’m known to think that way.

Lee promptly responded with the guy’s phone number, contacted the owner and got permission for us to call. The next day, yesterday, Mike and the owner had their own little meeting of the minds over the phone. The owner has circumnavigated twice, and sailed around the horn. This person knows sailing and sailboats. He told us how the fiberglass skin had been attached to the hull: the right way apparently, and it has held up beautifully since it was done in the early 1990’s. He told us many other things about it such as that the engine had been completely rebuilt and had less than 700 hours on it. The sails were new in 2004. The masts were completely serviced in 2008, reset, sealed with spartite. The beautiful military grade windlass works great. So great you have to be careful with it.  Mike said we’d be in touch. Then we got busy crunching some numbers.

Yesterday we went to the broker’s office and made two different offers, one with a low cash price and us bearing the risk of continuing to try to sell Moonrise. The other with an even lower cash price, but he could have our boat and sell it, eventually making more on his boat. Honestly, we could live with it either way because we offered a price we knew we could afford right now, even if we had to wait a few months for our boat to sell.  It was a little financially risky, but not so much that it would keep us up at night. Frankly, we were sorry this owner might have to sell this boat for so little, considering the amount he’s put into it. But financial statements don’t lie, and we can’t afford to get in over our heads at this point in the game. We might be in love, but we still have to be careful.  If he wanted us as the next caretakers of Flying Gull, this was as good as we could give. And we were willing to walk away. We truly were. This owner accepted our cash price offer within the hour.  And we couldn’t believe it. That was when the stunned amazement began.

Serious hail and sleet.

Serious hail and sleet.

We drove down to visit Flying Gull and look at a couple of small things we couldn’t remember seeing. Our daughter, who is considering living aboard her for awhile, came with us. While we were there the heavens opened, the thunder and lightning came, and we were deluged with hail. This was no small spring squall. This went on for an extraordinarily long time and if you live in Seattle and are reading this, you know what I’m talking about! The hail just kept coming, building up on the docks, covering the boats with several inches of ice.  The noise was deafening, but we had our first ‘heavy weather’ bonding experience with her as we tunneled around like moles underneath the boat cover pushing it up to keep the weight of the ice from bringing it down or putting undue stress on the stanchions. Thank goodness we were there because it would have been a bad situation considering the sheer amount of ice that fell from the sky. Claire said it was our ‘congratulations’ from the weather gods; their version of throwing confetti.20130413_87

So our cunning little plan is beginning in earnest right now. If this works out (survey, sea trial still to come) we’ll have a boat that can literally take us anywhere in comfort. It has a most versatile sail plan, enough room for everyone in our family, and the ability to keep us sheltered from weather of all kinds while under sail if we so choose. In addition, we’ve already begun meeting people who know a great deal about wooden boats and have been incredibly encouraging, including the owner of sister ship ‘Awab’, currently moored on the east coast.

If in reading this you think I make it sound as though this is a done deal, don’t be fooled because in all honesty, that changes moment by moment. Our mood shifts rapidly from excitement to sheer, unadulterated terror. Five hundred gallons of fuel? Dear God! We know in choosing this boat we are walking away from smaller, easier, cheaper-to-operate boats with simpler systems, boats like Moonrise that we can take out on a whim and just have fun.  We know this is counter to the common wisdom out there. In our more lucid periods, we don’t know if that’s really what we want. That’s why the emotional roller coaster has such profound highs and lows.

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Claire, watching the confetti fall from the sky.

What we do know is that in order to really engage with a boat enough to get the feel of the thing, you have to make an offer. You have to be willing to gamble the price of a survey. Without an offer, there will be no sea trial, no survey, no chance to see if the boat is a good fit. And when the gods practically drop it into your lap, it seems a little ungrateful not to at least give it a try. That’s the issue with gifts from the heavens. You don’t know at first if they are meant to be kept, or whether they’ve shown up simply to make your choices that much more clear. It’s like the gods sit back and say, ‘You can have this, and everything that comes with it, if you want it. Or you can take the other road.’ Gods are tricky. How do we know they don’t consider us part of some divine comedy?

 This deal is far from done in our book. We are still willing to walk away if it looks like that’s the best thing to do. Three days ago we were happily contemplating our next boat after Moonrise sells, even looking forward to the shopping process. We were settled in our logical, plodding progress toward the final goal. We were planning trips to unknown destinations, just to view boats. Now we are just steps away from owning another boat. It’s happening very fast. We’re just trying to hang on for the ride.

In spite of all of this, Flying Gull speaks to us well below the threshold of logic, whispering to our hearts in a way only we can hear. I know she is trying to hold us steady during this most tumultuous time. And I appreciate the effort.

Click on the monkey’s fist to read others bloggers on this topic.

The Monkey's Fist

 

 

 

Uncharacteristic Weather: A Long Dry Spell

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My friend Cidnie over at Our Life with Ceol Mor recently did a really smart thing: she announced to her readers that she was taking a break from posting for a certain period of time. When she announced it, my first thought was ‘what a smart idea’. Unfortunately my thoughts stopped at that moment. Had I followed those thoughts to their logical conclusion I would have realized that by announcing her planned hiatus, she would avoid the guilt over what  I call “failure to post”. When you have a blog that you love, posting things becomes a natural part of your life, so I have discovered. And in spite of the fact that most people do not comment, our stats tell us people do actually at least look at our pages, so I feel a certain illogical responsibility to that audience. What to do when there is really very little to say?

I notice that some bloggers post something every day. Frankly, I can never be that blogger. I cannot imagine a time when I would have something interesting to share every day.  I don’t need to be in people’s consciousness that much.  Most days are lived in ‘the beige’ of life: they are neither high nor low, but form the background and tie all the other days together. Time drifts by. What’s so great about that? No, I fear that posting every day at this point is just not going to be my style. So if there are long periods of time between posts, know that we are living in the beige just then and have nothing of interest to report in terms of progress. No one wants to read about how many hours I spent laying on the couch doing nothing or working out to my cardio boxing game. Here’s a brief wrap up of what we’ve accomplished toward the plan so far this year:20130212_1

We’ve bought a truck. True, we’ve added a vehicle, and, against common wisdom,  this has given us a profound sense of relief because we deperately need a truck with the property we live on. Now we can do dump runs, take furniture to Goodwill, get mulch and bark for the yard, and all the good things only trucks do. Then there is the issue of transporting things like kayaks and Puddler, our dinghy. We got this truck for only 1500$ so it didn’t set us back much.

Mike has made it his goal in life to clear the yard of unused items that, while hidden from sight, still must be dealt with should we ever dig ourselves out of here. Old wheelbarrow? Gone. Useless garden hose reel? Vamoose. Lawn vac? (yeah, I know.) Finished. Next to go are my old cement mixer (yes, I owned my own), a big pile of treated wood from Andrew’s old tree house, a lot of firewood, and a big stack of cement roofing tiles leftover from a garden edging project. You begin to see why a truck is a necessity.

I have cleaned up the work area behind the greenhouse to enable a leaner operation, offer a good place for storing garden tools all in one place (yeah, like that’s going to happen once gardening season begins), and allow Mike to build a structure for things that need cover, like the lawn mower. I am willing to share that area  because the days of my starting a hundred kinds of seeds in one season and acting like I own a nursery are over for now.

Just as people have to get boats ready to go, homeowners have to get their home ready to either sell or rent, and we’ve been doing that. Mike has created a great workshop area in the garage. There is room for it now that we’ve dumped so much stuff at Goodwill. Plus room for the car. Who knew? He’s replaced a toilet and I notice that he has bought a supply of molding to finish off a couple of areas. We have a door standing by to replace another door that is hideous. Anyone who complains that boats are a lot of work has never owned a home. Their cries fall on deaf ears around here.

Anyone notice how often I’ve typed the word ‘Mike’? That’s right. He is basically driving this train right now. I am the caboose, being pulled along in the same direction, and thankful for it. My focus is on my work and my health. It’s enough for me presently. I am back to working out, which feels great, (and many thanks to Nintendo for creating the Wii because I hate going to a gym). I am back on my diet to take off the pounds of holiday excess and fight my British genetic love of all things carbohydrate. I am infusing energy into my work by planning to teach some classes. All to the good. In my line of business, sitting back and coasting isn’t really an option if you give a crap about work quality. And I do.

Moonrise remains on the market and we have continued to do little projects that don’t warrant their own post, such as bringing home the canvas cover for the wheel and giving it a good wash, and cleaning the outside of her. Boats in the Puget Sound area look just awful in the winter. They have a tendency to grow a green algae everywhere. We can’t let that stand. Mike is refinishing the teak cockpit table, as the canvas doesn’t quite cover the end of it and it was badly weathered. We’ve had some interest in Moonrise but it is now a waiting game. I am of the mind that we need to set a date by which, if she is still ours, we decide to keep her and move on. I grow weary and discouraged over having my heart broken about other boats. Who knows? Maybe it wouldn’t be that uncomfortable sailing the Pacific on Moonrise. Who am I kidding? It would be terrible. But I would probably go anyhow.

So we exist in a slow moving wave just now, a time of introspection and waiting as we have just passed the mid-winter mark. The snowdrops are blooming, I’ve cut back the old leaves of the hellebores to unveil their blossoms. The chickens are busy keeping weeds at bay and generally running amok. Some shrubs appear to believe we’ll have an early spring around here. We’ve had a blessedly easy winter this year but we aren’t out of the woods yet. I’ll do a garden post soon, as it begins to look interesting out there. Meanwhile, we surf the wave slowly but surely.

Skippy standing guard over the winter garden.

Skippy standing guard over the winter garden.

 

Days of Sloth

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It’s the week between Christmas and New Year’s Day, a time when people reflect on their lives and what they’ve accomplished over the year, setting goals for the future. The dark days of winter are, I’m sure, created in order for us to have time to be introspective, thoughtful, mindful of how we live our lives. And I intend to do just that. After I’m finished resting and relaxing.

Hermione knows what I’m talking about. What a face!

Yes, indeed, I have hit the days of Sloth full force with my resting ways. Today I have accomplished the following: a shower, throwing wrapping paper from Christmas into the recycle bin. That is all, really. And I am completely satisfied with my level of usefulness in the world. My needs this week, in terms of being at all useful to others, are small.  And in this slow-moving, deliberate living I have embraced of late, I have, indeed, had some time to think, even if I haven’t given it much notice.

The ultra cool Space Needle in Seattle. I stuck this in here because it’s a groovy photo I took this season. Some day I will buy myself a really awesome camera and learn how to use it.

I’ve been thinking about how this time last year I was on a rampage getting rid of stuff. It’s as though I somehow thought that our cutting of the dock lines was just around the corner of our lives and that I had to hurry up and simplify. Oh, brother.  In so doing, I have complicated things terribly. Whatever you do, don’t believe everything you read about how ‘freeing’ it is to get rid of all your stuff because sometimes that is just a damn lie. And this lie comes home to roost on Christmas day when you have 9 people over for dinner and own only 3 dining room chairs because you gave the other chairs away since they were cluttering up the place. And then you have the neighbors over for dinner and apologize about the lack of chairs, commenting that you don’t know what happened to them and they respond with, “You gave them to our son last year because you didn’t need them anymore. Do you need them back? You don’t have anyplace for people to sit when you entertain.” Right. Like I’m going to take back chairs I gave to someone just starting out in life who can barely make a living much less buy new chairs. How embarrassing.

Oh sure, throwing everything out would be freeing if I didn’t ever need things again, or if I was moving onto a boat, say, tomorrow. But since neither of those things is true, I better slow down or we won’t have anyplace to sit in our own home.

What we have here is a collection of very tiny ornaments. I will NOT be getting rid of my collection of tiny Christmas ornaments. They will go with us on whatever boat we have. They take up almost no room. Without Christmas, there would be no Days of Sloth. And I must have them.

Oh, we’ve de-cluttered the place nicely this year. We’ve made so many trips to Goodwill that they know us by name. But the dirty truth is this: getting rid too much stuff well in advance of making a move to a small place, or a boat, is useless. Why? Because nature abhors a vacuum, that’s why. We live in a 3000 square foot house, more or less. Already with both kids gone most of the time, we feel as though we are knocking around in a huge empty space. Getting rid of things that take up that empty space just creates more empty space, and, naturally, it somehow gets filled with more stuff.  It just feels weird to have big blank areas where furniture needs to be. I took the advice of all the self-help gurus and got rid of all the stuff I didn’t use or have on display. That leaves exactly 3000 square feet of stuff that I DO use and IS on display. The house is too big for just us, but we’re in a transitional phase just now and we’re not getting rid of it anytime soon.

And speaking of that, I’ve been pretty attached to my house lately. Maybe it’s just that it’s winter, and cold and wet but I’ve come to realize that my dreams of being on a boat really do generally include warm weather and sunshine. Not that I don’t want to sail in colder climates. I do, but I don’t intend to be miserable all the time while doing it. So this time of year when I miss the boat and think ‘let’s go sailing’, I look outside, realize that what’s in my head doesn’t match the reality outside,  and then become thankful that I’m warm and dry. Call me middle-aged. Call me a sailing wimp. Whatever. I prefer to think of it as ‘blooming where I’m planted’.

Here’s a photo from the butterfly house at the Pacific Science Center, for those who need a break from the narration. I like how this butterfly totally brings together the colors of the plants. This is how gardeners think in the winter time.

Mike has been more productive today, but then, he has a more finely developed sense of guilt than I have. After all, he did grow up in the south. He and Andrew replaced the brake shoes on two cars today, so he feels like he deserves to be laying on the couch reading one of his many new books he received from Santa this Christmas…books on sailing. Mike received 4 riveting books that are sailing oriented, and we’ll post about them later. For now, suffice to say that while Mike received books on sailing adventures, and Andrew received new sailing boots and a new anchor roller for Danger Kitten, I received kitchen utensils and a gift certificate to the spa. I’m beginning to sense a trend. Now, to be fair, I have been ‘into’ cooking lately, as is evidenced by the luscious Beef Bourguignon I served for Christmas dinner. Still, I believe my point is well taken. I will be reading his books so I dearly hope he is in a sharing kind of mood.

He must be really enjoying this book because I’ve heard a lot of snorting and guffawing, and comments like ‘this guy either has balls or he’s an idiot’. And also things like, “I know what’s going to happen next because we’ve done this. Oh, Lord, at least we know he lived to tell of it.” I can’t wait to read this book.

And so during these days of sloth when I’ve given myself the gift of not giving a damn what I get done, Mike lies on one couch, I type on another couch… you can see where I’m going with this: we simply must buy a boat with two generously built settees. Otherwise, there is no other way this whole plan will actually work.