Awake at 0200 with the wind howling in the rigging on a cold morning this spring, I got up and started browsing Yachtworld, as idly docked sailors are sometimes wont to do (particularly with looming tasks of boat repair hanging over them). Like everyone, we have our bouts with “three-footitis,” that burning, feverish desire for a boat that is just three feet longer… just enough to make all those little annoying fit and function problems evaporate. We’re wise enough to understand that they never really go away, of course, that those problems are part and parcel of nautical life. But at 2AM, wisdom is at its ebb.
Mandy and I had long since decided that we did need a bigger boat someday, that living aboard a 33 footer is possible and even enjoyable for two people, but that living and working aboard required something with a little more space. The only real debate after making that decision was, how big, and how old? We started out thinking forty to forty-three feet, but after some consideration and experience, we scaled that back. Smaller is less expensive, both initially and down the line, for a whole host of reasons, and time spent ducking in and out of narrow and sometimes shallow anchorages and marinas has convinced us that it’s more flexible and manageable for us, as well. Taken together with the fact that newer boats tend to be roomier at the same length than older boats, we figured something in the 36 to 38 foot range might actually be better.
While the small/large thing was a matter of preference, the new/old debate settled itself quickly after a glance at the carnage several years of economic havoc had wrought in our savings accounts. Some day we might be able to afford a brand new boat in that size range… but not this year.
This is where the consequences come in, though. Money spent on an older boat this year probably isn’t going to be available for a new boat down the road… by sinking that cash into something right now, we are probably delaying that new boat by a few more years, or perhaps even torpedoing the possibility entirely.
This sort of cold, hard accounting can lead to a sort of decision paralysis, which I found it easy to indulge myself in through the early part of the summer with little opportunity to actively seek solutions. Now that we’re back in Seattle, it is time to look at boats.
After one day out on the docks, poking around at used yachts, the consequences of decisions became even more apparent. Months of comparison shopping on Yachtworld hadn’t adequately prepared me for the relatively high prices here in the Pacific Northwest, or the dearth of options available in the size range we are looking at. Finding the right combination of features, in the right size range, at the right price, seems impossible. All boats are compromises, but few have opted for the sorts of trade-offs I am interested in. It’s like hunting for a condo in a very small neighborhood split evenly between Tudors and ranch-style homes.
Since it will be our home, the decision is that much more portentous. It certainly makes me realize how lucky we are with our current boat. Having known almost nothing when she bought it, my wife ended up with a solid, well-performing boat that has a lot of features we like that turn out to be pretty rare in the wider world of yachts. More than once I have contemplated breaking out the chainsaw and fiberglass and extending her “manually” for that three extra feet. And it may be telling that my nautical dreams now, instead of depicting fantasies about light blue waters and warm breezes, consist almost entirely of visions of gutting and repairing old boats to bring them up to the standards I have become accustomed to.
The decision was made especially stark for me this afternoon as we tied up in our slip after a long, dreary motor south from Port Townsend. As I killed the engine, it occurred to me that it might well be the last time I do so on Insegrevious. Our plan now is to list her toward the end of October. It’s unlikely she’ll sell so soon, but on the off chance that she does, we could be in an apartment by Thanksgiving, and our next trip by boat would be aboard a different boat. It seems, suddenly, a much weightier consequence than I had imagined.