Sailing was never a goal, or even a desire, for me. Frankly, I’d just never thought about it. Heck, I’d never even been near a sailboat before. Then I met Bob, who on our first date told me he planned to retire in a few years and circumnavigate the Pacific on a sailboat. He asked if I wanted to go along. I had recently left a stagnant marriage in which excitement was limited to navigating the "isles of the grocery store", I said, "Uh,… Sure!" So Bob took on a completely unskilled, basically clueless first mate.
At the time, Bob was without a boat because we’d been living inland, but his goal for the previous three years was to get back to his home in the Portland, Oregon area, along the Columbia River, and get another boat. So the move was made and the following weekend we decided to take a break from unpacking to go walk along some docks.
We were strolling along just enjoying the day when we saw a little 25ft sailboat in a slip. It looked sad, was growing suspicious green things, and hadn't been sailed in several years. It looked abandoned and badly in need of love. There was a sign taped on its bow saying "Must Sell, Make Offer." Thinking that this might be a good size boat for me to learn on, we went back the following Saturday to take a closer look at it.
The owner’s friend and caretaker, Ann, met us at the boat. She told us that the owner, an old bachelor I’ll call Charlie, was now in a nursing home. Charlie had purchased it new in 1984 and lived on it for eight years, right there in the slip. He only took it out onto the Columbia a couple of times. Unfortunately, his health deteriorated, and he could no longer live on board so it sat idle for 12 years. It was filthy. I think I know why he had never been married. Eeeewww!
Ann told us that Charlie’s niece had put a fair amount of money into it in 2003 so that she could sell it out from under him, but it didn't work for her. Ann showed us all the invoices and receipts for the work that had been done; new sails, rigging, and wiring, work on the outboard motor and more, about $8,000 worth. But it sat for another four years after that, so it looked pretty bad. Ann said she'd had her son try to start the motor, but despite his efforts, it was dead. They were asking $8,000, but she said she'd take $5,000 because both she and Charlie really wanted it sold. It was deteriorating and they both knew it. Thinking that it was in really bad shape, Bob offered $3,000, feeling certain that they would probably decline. Well, they took it. It's funny, as soon as Ann accepted the offer, Bob and I both looked at each other like, "Oh crap, she took that fast. We just made a BIG mistake." Oh well, like it or not, that Saturday afternoon, we'd bought ourselves a Hunter 25.5 sailboat.
That evening, we talked about a name for the boat, which had never been named. I told Bob that I could really associate with that little boat, because she and I had both sat idle for many years, deteriorating, wanting to do more and be more than our present situation was offering. Then Bob came along and gave us both a new lease on life. There were changes ahead for both her and I. Changes usually don’t come fast; in fact they’re often very gradual. Bob suggested a name befitting of the situation that also identified our shared belief on a major subject. We named her Evolution.
We spent all day Sunday on Evolution cleaning her. Bob attacked the outside, (hull, decks and cockpit), with a power washer; while I attacked the inside with rubber gloves, Lysol, bleach, a razor scraper and a pretty fair amount of nausea. YUK! We braced ourselves for several weeks of cleaning and repair. We were pooped by the end of the day.
The next day, Monday, we were back at the boat bright and early. I went back to cleaning the inside, while Bob started playing with the little ten horse Honda motor. He hooked up the gas tank, and determined that the gas wasn’t getting to the motor. The cleaning inside seemed to go faster than expected, so we stopped for lunch and to go to a nearby boat store to buy new gas line fittings. When we returned, Bob put the new fittings on, and $4.94 later the motor started on the first pull! Life giving blood, (ok, gasoline,) began flowing in, and the little motor came to life. She purred like a kitten!
At the time, Bob was without a boat because we’d been living inland, but his goal for the previous three years was to get back to his home in the Portland, Oregon area, along the Columbia River, and get another boat. So the move was made and the following weekend we decided to take a break from unpacking to go walk along some docks.
We were strolling along just enjoying the day when we saw a little 25ft sailboat in a slip. It looked sad, was growing suspicious green things, and hadn't been sailed in several years. It looked abandoned and badly in need of love. There was a sign taped on its bow saying "Must Sell, Make Offer." Thinking that this might be a good size boat for me to learn on, we went back the following Saturday to take a closer look at it.
The owner’s friend and caretaker, Ann, met us at the boat. She told us that the owner, an old bachelor I’ll call Charlie, was now in a nursing home. Charlie had purchased it new in 1984 and lived on it for eight years, right there in the slip. He only took it out onto the Columbia a couple of times. Unfortunately, his health deteriorated, and he could no longer live on board so it sat idle for 12 years. It was filthy. I think I know why he had never been married. Eeeewww!
Ann told us that Charlie’s niece had put a fair amount of money into it in 2003 so that she could sell it out from under him, but it didn't work for her. Ann showed us all the invoices and receipts for the work that had been done; new sails, rigging, and wiring, work on the outboard motor and more, about $8,000 worth. But it sat for another four years after that, so it looked pretty bad. Ann said she'd had her son try to start the motor, but despite his efforts, it was dead. They were asking $8,000, but she said she'd take $5,000 because both she and Charlie really wanted it sold. It was deteriorating and they both knew it. Thinking that it was in really bad shape, Bob offered $3,000, feeling certain that they would probably decline. Well, they took it. It's funny, as soon as Ann accepted the offer, Bob and I both looked at each other like, "Oh crap, she took that fast. We just made a BIG mistake." Oh well, like it or not, that Saturday afternoon, we'd bought ourselves a Hunter 25.5 sailboat.That evening, we talked about a name for the boat, which had never been named. I told Bob that I could really associate with that little boat, because she and I had both sat idle for many years, deteriorating, wanting to do more and be more than our present situation was offering. Then Bob came along and gave us both a new lease on life. There were changes ahead for both her and I. Changes usually don’t come fast; in fact they’re often very gradual. Bob suggested a name befitting of the situation that also identified our shared belief on a major subject. We named her Evolution.
We spent all day Sunday on Evolution cleaning her. Bob attacked the outside, (hull, decks and cockpit), with a power washer; while I attacked the inside with rubber gloves, Lysol, bleach, a razor scraper and a pretty fair amount of nausea. YUK! We braced ourselves for several weeks of cleaning and repair. We were pooped by the end of the day. The next day, Monday, we were back at the boat bright and early. I went back to cleaning the inside, while Bob started playing with the little ten horse Honda motor. He hooked up the gas tank, and determined that the gas wasn’t getting to the motor. The cleaning inside seemed to go faster than expected, so we stopped for lunch and to go to a nearby boat store to buy new gas line fittings. When we returned, Bob put the new fittings on, and $4.94 later the motor started on the first pull! Life giving blood, (ok, gasoline,) began flowing in, and the little motor came to life. She purred like a kitten!
We were so excited that the motor started so easily and seemed to be running so well that we decided to take her out for a little spin. We untied all the mooring lines, gave her a shove and hopped aboard. And so began the comedy of errors.
In our haste, we forgot about a little thing called the tiller. Yep, no ability to steer. The rudder was there, but we’d neglected to attach the handle. Mistake #1. So we were headed straight backward toward the boats on the next row of slips. As Bob gingerly tried to turn the boat with only the tiny motor, I swung below to retrieve the handle for the tiller. For as small as it was, that little Honda actually pushed the boat pretty well, so we over corrected and our bow swung around toward the other boats. Mistake #2. I promptly ran to the bow and stuck my foot out to keep us from hitting someone else’s pride and joy. Mistake #3. The other boat nearly pushed me overboard, and I raked my shin on their motor. But I did keep us from crashing into it. Using body parts as a fender is not a good idea. So we were now headed stern first into our original slip. Luckily (or unluckily for Bob’s pride) another boater was nearby and watching and probably trying hard not to laugh. He came to our rescue by catching our motor and keeping it from hitting the dock. Mark, the other boater, then held the stern in place so that Bob could attach the tiller handle.
While balancing the handle across the top of the rudder, Bob unscrewed the bolt to attach the handle. Mistake #4. The bolt chose that moment to commit suicide by leaping from Bob’s hands, sinking to the bottom of the drink. Aaaarrrgh….! With the boat being held by Mark and me, Bob removed the middle bolt from the tiller and used it to attach the handle. With steering capability restored, Mark turned us loose. Despite our mistakes, we were able to motor out of the marina without further mishap and our boat still intact, although I cannot say the same for our pride.
Once we were out into the Columbia, our quick little spin turned into a nice little jaunt. There was a little more boat traffic than we would have liked, but it was fun crossing the big wakes of the powerful cabin cruisers and having the water break over the bow. We decided to motor down the river a ways away from the mass of spiffy-dressed boaters near the entrance to the marina. We even got brave enough to kick the motor out of gear and test the sails and rigging, which I am pleased to say all worked well.
However, there was a small problem when a large number of really gross, bubble-butted spiders that had taken up residence in the previously abandoned sails began blowing down and falling all around us! I HATE spiders! Needless to say that didn’t go over real well with me. I didn’t realize how small 25 feet was until I was surrounded by spiders, and there was nowhere to run! Bob was pitching spiders overboard as fast as he could in order to keep the Coast Guard from coming to see what all the blood curdling screams were about. My shrieks were so shrill that Bob claims they opened the drawbridge down river for us. Yea, sure they did.
Once the boat was spider free we had a very nice sail: blue sky, a beautiful view of Mt. Hood, and just the right amount of breeze. It was the perfect day.
But the first time Evolution heeled over, having never been on a sail-boat before, I nearly wet my pants! I’d seen pictures of boats in that position, but it just didn’t look that scary. Well, I was terrified. As I clung to the rail I looked over at Bob for reassurance. He seemed content and perfectly calm, just enjoying the cruise. He was having a great time. I figured it must be normal, so I tried to act casual and just hung on for dear life.
On the cruise back, with the wind square at our back, we even sailed wing and wing for a while. We were moving along at a pretty good clip against a strong current and in a light breeze; it was like flying! As I became more comfortable, I even began helping with the sheets and tiller. I was feeling like quite the little sailor! Yeeehaw!!!! (Oops, that’s the small town inland hick coming out in me!)
We had anticipated that it would be weeks before we would have Evolution out on the water; we were really pleased with how she handled being out for the first time in so many years. The sails went up and down smoothly, there were no leaks, and the motor ran great. As it turns out, we’ve decided that we got a REALLY good deal. The little Hunter 25.5 is out doing what she loves to do, and she and Bob are patiently teaching me the ropes.
OK, consider me hooked!
In our haste, we forgot about a little thing called the tiller. Yep, no ability to steer. The rudder was there, but we’d neglected to attach the handle. Mistake #1. So we were headed straight backward toward the boats on the next row of slips. As Bob gingerly tried to turn the boat with only the tiny motor, I swung below to retrieve the handle for the tiller. For as small as it was, that little Honda actually pushed the boat pretty well, so we over corrected and our bow swung around toward the other boats. Mistake #2. I promptly ran to the bow and stuck my foot out to keep us from hitting someone else’s pride and joy. Mistake #3. The other boat nearly pushed me overboard, and I raked my shin on their motor. But I did keep us from crashing into it. Using body parts as a fender is not a good idea. So we were now headed stern first into our original slip. Luckily (or unluckily for Bob’s pride) another boater was nearby and watching and probably trying hard not to laugh. He came to our rescue by catching our motor and keeping it from hitting the dock. Mark, the other boater, then held the stern in place so that Bob could attach the tiller handle.
While balancing the handle across the top of the rudder, Bob unscrewed the bolt to attach the handle. Mistake #4. The bolt chose that moment to commit suicide by leaping from Bob’s hands, sinking to the bottom of the drink. Aaaarrrgh….! With the boat being held by Mark and me, Bob removed the middle bolt from the tiller and used it to attach the handle. With steering capability restored, Mark turned us loose. Despite our mistakes, we were able to motor out of the marina without further mishap and our boat still intact, although I cannot say the same for our pride.
Once we were out into the Columbia, our quick little spin turned into a nice little jaunt. There was a little more boat traffic than we would have liked, but it was fun crossing the big wakes of the powerful cabin cruisers and having the water break over the bow. We decided to motor down the river a ways away from the mass of spiffy-dressed boaters near the entrance to the marina. We even got brave enough to kick the motor out of gear and test the sails and rigging, which I am pleased to say all worked well.
However, there was a small problem when a large number of really gross, bubble-butted spiders that had taken up residence in the previously abandoned sails began blowing down and falling all around us! I HATE spiders! Needless to say that didn’t go over real well with me. I didn’t realize how small 25 feet was until I was surrounded by spiders, and there was nowhere to run! Bob was pitching spiders overboard as fast as he could in order to keep the Coast Guard from coming to see what all the blood curdling screams were about. My shrieks were so shrill that Bob claims they opened the drawbridge down river for us. Yea, sure they did.
Once the boat was spider free we had a very nice sail: blue sky, a beautiful view of Mt. Hood, and just the right amount of breeze. It was the perfect day. But the first time Evolution heeled over, having never been on a sail-boat before, I nearly wet my pants! I’d seen pictures of boats in that position, but it just didn’t look that scary. Well, I was terrified. As I clung to the rail I looked over at Bob for reassurance. He seemed content and perfectly calm, just enjoying the cruise. He was having a great time. I figured it must be normal, so I tried to act casual and just hung on for dear life.
On the cruise back, with the wind square at our back, we even sailed wing and wing for a while. We were moving along at a pretty good clip against a strong current and in a light breeze; it was like flying! As I became more comfortable, I even began helping with the sheets and tiller. I was feeling like quite the little sailor! Yeeehaw!!!! (Oops, that’s the small town inland hick coming out in me!)
We had anticipated that it would be weeks before we would have Evolution out on the water; we were really pleased with how she handled being out for the first time in so many years. The sails went up and down smoothly, there were no leaks, and the motor ran great. As it turns out, we’ve decided that we got a REALLY good deal. The little Hunter 25.5 is out doing what she loves to do, and she and Bob are patiently teaching me the ropes.OK, consider me hooked!
Ahoy!
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4 comments:
Wahooo!! Great job, sis! It looks great and I can't wait to read your upcoming posts. Go forth and blog!
Nice stories. I have been sailing over 40 years and I still make stupid mistakes, so don't feel bad.
Your writing reminds me of Farley Mowat's The Boat Who Wouldn't Float. I think you'd like it.
You should be a writer----I guess you are. Sounds like you are having some excitement in your life and that is what counts. Remember that your sailing trips that will be memorable are the ones where something out of the ordinary happens. I have been sailing for 40 years and my favorite trip to date is running the boat hard aground in a nice breeze and waiting out the tide. If I had your talent for writing I would write up all the misadventures that followed. Keep your enthusiasm for the sport and stay an board and you will have lots of fun----and adventures. You may want to try joing a racing or cruising club as the best way to learn is to associate with others who are more knowledgeable. You may also want to contact one of the sailing magazines as they may be willing to pay you for your writing work. You have an interesting perspective on the sport.
Auntie Linda! LOVED this post (can't wait to read more). :) Diving back in...
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