Location:
Blacksburg, Virginia, US
It's
not our fault! Really!
You
may recall that we went to visit Mark's cousin Nancy and her husband
Chris in Seattle a few months ago. They invited us to their place on
Lopez Island in the San Juan Islands for a long weekend. Then, while
we were there they invited us out for a sail in
their 23' sailboat. So, it's obvious, right? You can see how it's
really their fault, and not ours, right? Right!
What's
that you say? Your fault about what? Oh! The boat, of course!
What
boat? you ask
Oh.
Hmm... maybe we'd better explain. Cue the flashback music,
please...
It's
a beautiful summer day in the San Juan Islands. Clear blue sky,
about 8 knots of wind, and we're sailing for the first time in almost
2 years. Feeling the wind in our faces gently pulling us along, we
both realize how much we miss this. The word “visceral” comes to
mind. A quick Google search finds the definitions “Derived
from or prompted by a natural tendency or impulse" and “Of,
relating to, or arising from one's mental or spiritual being". Visceral. That's
what sailing is to us. We can't help it. It's not our fault.
So,
just for fun (and we've talked about this before), we start
discussing what sort of boat we might (hypothetically) look for (if,
in fact, we were ever to look for another boat, which we aren't). We tell ourselves
we're just day dreaming, and we pretty much believe us.
We
think something with less draft would be fun so we can go to some of
the shallower places we've never been able to get into with Rachel's
6' draft. We want something a bit smaller, more stable, but we're
reluctant to give up much living space.
It
starts to sound as if a catamaran might fit the bill (even though
we've never sailed one), but they're much more expensive than a
similar length monohull, so that's pretty much out of the question.
We kick it around some more on our trip back east, but don't really
get anywhere, and set it aside. Grand children, house upkeep,
visiting friends and family all keep us pretty well occupied and
we're just not thinking about it any more. It's all hypothetical,
anyway, right?
When
we took off in the RV a year and a half ago, we left Wanda the Honda
with some friends near Deltaville, VA where we used to keep Rachel.
We catch a ride back up with other friends to pick up the van, then
head over to the boatyard and marina to visit with even more friends
before heading back to Blacksburg.
Some
time during the day, a funky looking catamaran appears in “the
field of dreams”. This is a small yard owned by the Deltaville
Maritime Museum just across the road from Deltaville Boatyard. We
call it “the field of dreams” because the museum accepts donation
boats which they then resell. Many of the boats are in pretty sad
shape, but in some cases, if you're willing to do some work, you can
get a great boat for a really good price. Many otherwise
unreachable dreams have come to fruition as a result.
So it's not
our fault – we didn't ask for that catamaran to suddenly appear.
We
wander over and take a walk around the boat. It's a 33' 1996 Gemini
105M. Cosmetically, on the outside, it's a mess – dirty, moldy,
leaves and leaf stains, black sail covers now dark green with moss
etc. But, since we're always willing to look on the bright side and
put in some sweat equity if we can get a good deal on something, we
see a lot of potential.
Some
of our friends say “It would be cool to see what it looks like
inside.” So now it's their fault. They are what we call “Big
Enablers”!
In
a moment of weakness, we call and arrange for the museum's boat guy
to meet us and let us inside to look around. We're pleasantly
surprised – a bit of trim and one floorboard are damaged from a
persistent leak, and we notice a few other issues, but overall, it's
in much better shape than we expected when we were looking at the
outside. It smells nice, no mold, it's clean and bright, and it even
has new settee cushions. The asking price is pretty low for a
catamaran, but still higher than we're willing to pay. On a lark,
Mark mentions a low-ball number (not really an offer – just an “I
wonder if they'd be willing to go that low?”) and the guy says
he'll take it back to the museum board and see what they say.
So
we go back to Blacksburg, forget about it for the most part, and a
couple of busy weeks pass. Some friends from England are flying in
to check out their boat in Deltaville, and we make arrangements with
several other friends up there for a get-together while they're in
the US. The day before we leave to head up for the shindig, Mark
remembers about the boat, and thinking it's probably already been
sold, calls the museum. He is told “Sorry I didn't get back to
you, the board accepted your offer.”
EEP!!
So now it's the museum board's fault – first for calling it an
“offer” then for accepting it. Now what?
Still
trying to convince ourselves that we're not really serious, we make
arrangements to get the key so we can give the boat a good going over
for a couple of days.
On
the up side, she only draws 18” of water with the centerboards and
rudders up (talk about shallow draft!!) and is only 14' wide, so can
fit in a regular travel lift. Because she's a catamaran, she has a
huge cockpit (easily seating 10 or 12) and front deck, and can seat 6 (or more) people at the dinner table. A queen
size master berth, a full head and shower, a small but workable galley, and two
guest cabins fill out the accommodations. She
also comes with an 8' Caribe dinghy with outboard, a Honda generator,
and a big, expensive chart plotter, all of which seem to work.
We
do find a few more issues, none of which are real deal breakers, but
all of which potentially add up to more than we're willing to spend
on repairs. So, in a half-hearted attempt to get out of the whole
deal, Mark goes back to the guy and offers him even less. The guy
leaves, then calls back an hour later and says “You have a deal.”
Oh!
Hmmm! So whose fault is it now?
Yep,
we're boat owners again. Previously named “Cat's Paw”, we decide
to rename her “Rachel”.
We
expect it'll take a month or so of hard work before we'll be able to
put her back in the water and go for our first sail, but we find
ourselves looking forward to it. We do love a project.
Our
work will be cut out for us next spring when we get back from Vietnam
– oh, oops, guess we forgot to tell you about that, too. Looks
like we've already found a topic for the next Khronicle...
See?
Told you it wasn't our fault!
