Tag Archives: boat interiors

It’s a Merry Library Christmas at Little Cunning Plan

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Mike is reading from the 'go small and go now' genre.

It’s Christmas and I know the question on your mind is this: ” What does the well-heeled, crap-discarding, boat-shopping couple give one another for Christmas?” Well, you can stop fretting about this and get some sleep, because I’m going to tell you: Books. Lots and lots of books about boats and cruising. And a kitchen aid mixer, but since I can’t imagine storing that on a boat, we’ll just move on from that now.

Yes, this Christmas, rather than supporting the economy by buying a lot of useless junk that no one wants, I went directly to my local book store, Amazon.com (and also Half Price Books) and bought books on the top-secret inner workings of sailboats, how to sail on a paltry sum of money, and how to outfit a boat for blue water sailing by spending a million dollars. We will be busily reading these for weeks to come.

Mike must have been a very good boy this year.

Got a boat library of your own? Drop us a line and let us know what books you think we need. For a complete list of the books we bought and what we think about them, see our new ‘Books You Should Get If You Want To‘ page. To find that page, go to The Plan in the menu at the top of the page.

 

 

 

The Perfect Boat, With Foot Stomping

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This is an actual boat. I'm not making this up.

Is there such a thing as the perfect boat? Mike and I are smack in the middle of boat lust (at least we’re in it together) and so the concept of the ‘perfect’ boat is one we knock around a bit. I keep hearing and reading that everything on a boat is a “compromise” and, frankly, I’m getting pretty tired of hearing that already.  I’m beginning to feel more than a bit oppositional, so I thought I better get some stuff out of my system on the blog. That way I won’t have to stomp around the docks gesturing and pointing and generally having a hissy fit. Mike hates it when I do that.

I think the word ‘compromise’ actually means I’m being told ‘no’. Let’s be clear: I am a Leo and probably low on several hormones. Telling me no is probably not a very good idea. Saying ‘no’ to me brings out my inner 4 year old and like any 4 year old worth her salt, I become filled with stubborn insistence. There is a good reason for this. All 4 year old kids know that pretty much anything is possible in this world and that there is no good reason why amazing things cannot happen. Young children are in complete accord with all of the possibilities of the Universe. This is why they are constantly disappointed when adults get in their way by slinging around ridiculous concepts like ‘everything on a boat is a compromise’. So this is why these words make me want to run screaming and stamping my feet, probably with my hands over my ears yelling ‘LALALALALALA! I DON’T HEAR YOU!” I simply cannot allow these alleged grown ups to get in my way.

As an actual adult, in fact, I have learned to deal with this issue of the internal 4 year old by very carefully defining what things are important to me, and putting those things in terms that are ultimately pretty flexible, most of the time. That way the Universe doesn’t have to tell me no very often and risk my narcissistic rage. I like to protect the Universe from my narcissistic rage. I find that when defining the perfect boat, I can divide the definition into two parts: wants and needs. Tonight, my flexibility is waxing toward the ‘want’ category, probably because I’ve had too many Christmas cookies.

You’d think that the wants would be flexible and the needs be concrete but you’d be wrong. Remember we’re dealing with early childhood here. The wants are pretty much written in stone, and they mostly have to do with the interior of the boat and, hence, our comfort when aboard. For instance, I want a good master cabin with a berth that is large enough for both of us to move around at will, and that will allow me to get in and out without kicking Mike in the head. I also want room to store clothing. I want it and I’m going to get it. There is no reason why I cannot have it and I am not prepared to negotiate on this.  We’ve already ruled out two very nice boats because the master cabin was too small. Do you see how serious I am about this issue? Consider my foot stamped, hands on hips, lower lip looming large.

A worthy master cabin. Unfortunately this boat is in Virginia.

Another thing I want is two facing settees in the salon. I want these, and I want them to be big and comfortable and useful as sea berths. I want to be able to lounge around on them and read, and have room for lots of pillows. I will find a way to snug them up when they are needed as sea berths. Even though I will be on a boat, I refuse to believe that good sailing boats cannot be very comfortable inside. I do not accept that. The Universe is too big to be limited by those kinds of things. In my 4 year old mind, the salon is colorful and bright, and comfortable with plenty of light, like a tiny living room. There is plenty of room for all 4 of our family members to sit comfortably and there is a table that is useful when we want it, and that gets out of the way when we don’t. Let it be written, let it be done.

A nice salon. On the same boat in Virginia.

The last thing I want is a separate place for my son to sleep when he is on board. My feelings about this are strong, but I find myself getting flexible about how this is manifested. Ideally, he would have his own cabin. That would encourage him to want to spend more time with us, and also my daughter might consider using it at times if it had enough privacy. I really see no reason why I should not have this but I wax and wane about how much foot stomping and lip trembling I want to do about it. Probably that’s because I begin to feel a little like one of THOSE women who just wants a condo on the water. Honestly, if I thought I could actually HAVE a condo on the water, and that it would be a boat that was still a good sailor, then I’d say right on! Maybe I just don’t want to be seen as one of THOSE women, whoever they are. I’m thinking my I-want-itis is coming smack up against some other part of my ego. I hate when that happens.  When I figure that out, I’ll let you know.

This is the second cabin in the above boat, a Moody 376 that would be perfect if it were on the west coast.

Meanwhile, let the boat touring continue. We’re looking for that one amazing boat, and I know she is out there!

 

 

 

Boat Lust and Teeth Gnashing

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I fear I have an addiction. No, I’m not into drinking or doing mind-altering drugs. But I continue to engage in an activity that, by its very nature, is probably not good for me and makes me feel weepy and frantic at times. It’s like one minute I’m on a magic carpet and the next minute I’m in a tumbling free fall until I come smack down to earth. Still, I continue, knowing this will happen again and again. I feel somewhat powerless in the face of this behavior. I don’t exactly ‘hide’ this behavior from my husband or friends, not exactly, but other signs of addiction are mounting. I spend more and more time engaging in the behavior. I neglect other parts of my life in order to give myself wholly to this endeavor. It owns me, heart and soul.  I speak, of course, of looking at boats on Yachtworld.com.

Okay, so I'm doing it again. What's your point?

I can spend literally hours at a time cruising the Yachtworld pages. I have a running list of boats I like, most of which are not even listed anymore. I compare the boats available in the Great Lakes region to the ones available on the East coast, to those in California, to those in my own Pacific Northwest (where I will have to pay about 9% sales tax on a boat! Damn! That’s going to cut into the budget seriously!).  I consider the wisdom of buying a boat in Mexico or Canada.

But, hey, I’m doing research! I mean, I do learn a lot about what I like and don’t like about each boat. I guess you could say that all of this looking is helping us narrow down what’s important to us. But mostly it makes me feel like whining.

In spite of myself I’ve experienced price creep in my longings. I started out keeping my searches to a reasonable price of 50,000$. Yes, that IS a lot of money. But not for a sailboat. It’s not going to buy you much of a sailboat. So I upped it to 75,000$.  That buys a bit more. That will buy a boat that is workable for our little plan, but will still need substantial upgrading if I want to feel safe and prepared at sea, which I do.

Like all good addictions, that wasn’t enough. Soon I had to increase the price to $100,000. I hear all the gasps of pain from you readers, especially those of you who are not owned by boats. It’s a crazy amount of money. But this will basically be our HOUSE for a number of years if all goes as planned. Does it still sound like too much? Yeah. That’s what I thought, too. So I started looking at boats between 100,000 and 200,000$. Did you catch that complete disconnect there?  Dear God there are some beautiful floating houses out there. Now I’m REALLY flying out of my league. Way, way out.

Not even close to my price range.

The day is coming when the shopping needs to end and a decision needs to be made. I think we are getting closer to making that decision to buy a different boat, my addiction not withstanding. The money we’re spending on a boat now needs to be spent on a boat that will take us to Mexico and beyond in the future. This is only logical, people. It must have been that logic that caused me to fall completely in love with an Oyster39 center cockpit for sale up in Sydney BC. I had looked at the boat on line couple of times before and thought it looked very nice, not to mention that Oyster yachts have a fine reputation as blue water cruisers. And the price was right, too. Unbelievable.

So here is where the teeth gnashing comes in. I contacted the broker, only to be told that an offer had been written on the boat THE DAY BEFORE! Oh my dear GOD in Heaven!! Teeth gnashing doesn’t even begin to cover it. There was wailing and carrying on and tearing of hair, at least inside my head. There were visions of me prostrate on the ground, praying to whatever little gods are in charge of boat-buying to save that boat for us. I believe wheedling and deal-making may have been involved. There began to be actual praying that the sale would fall through for whatever poor soul is buying our boat. How unworthy of me! I had to pull myself up short. And believe me when I say it was HARD! I still have my moments. Sniff.

So I fear I have willingly bought a ticket for the worst kind of roller coaster. Last time I rode a roller coaster I had vertigo for a week. I had trouble telling where the ground was. I’d wake up in the night and clutch the bed, thinking I was falling.  Let’s hope this experience is not more of the same. I’d like to keep my sanity intact. Meanwhile, Mike is holding onto his wallet for dear life.

I tell you, this is important research!