A life in three boats
I’ve had several boats, as most sailors will, but three of them had particularly significant roles in my development as a sailor. One of these boats came early in my sailing life: it was the boat I bought to prove to myself that I really did want to go sailing. After some trading up to bigger and more competent boats, the second significant boat arrived: the one that marked the big step up in commitment that allows serious offshore sailing. I bought this boat when my working life allowed me time to attempt a long voyage offshore and later she came with me when another career hiatus gave me the many months involved in sailing across the Atlantic to the Caribbean. Then came the ultimate boat for me, the one that will never be beaten, the one that would have taken me round the world if I had gone that way. I have fallen from that pinnacle, already started the slide down to sailing smaller boats. My current boat is still ocean competent but not in the league of the mighty Joshua that marks the pinnacle of my sailing life.
Each of these boats leads naturally on to the others, as I moved from coastal to blue-water to live-aboard. My sailing life in three boats. You can probably see your own life in a similar way.
Click the links to the full article on each boat.
Each of these boats leads naturally on to the others, as I moved from coastal to blue-water to live-aboard. My sailing life in three boats. You can probably see your own life in a similar way.
Click the links to the full article on each boat.
The learner: Kingfisher 20
I didn’t learn to sail in a conventional way, on dinghies or a family cruiser. I was a grown up when I bought a little old boat that wouldn’t break the bank and could always be pushed off in an emergency. I found her in Essex so I sailed her in Essex, and came to love that flat estuarial landscape with its huge open skies. Sailing an old boat and sailing in Essex suited me socially and financially and taught me much about the practicalities of boat maintenance. There is much to be said for The Learner in our lives.
I didn’t learn to sail in a conventional way, on dinghies or a family cruiser. I was a grown up when I bought a little old boat that wouldn’t break the bank and could always be pushed off in an emergency. I found her in Essex so I sailed her in Essex, and came to love that flat estuarial landscape with its huge open skies. Sailing an old boat and sailing in Essex suited me socially and financially and taught me much about the practicalities of boat maintenance. There is much to be said for The Learner in our lives.
Escape Route: A well-found Colin Archer type yacht.
Sailing for me has always been about getting away. I don’t belong to yacht clubs. I always anchored instead of using a marina. My instinct is to stay at sea till I reach my destination rather than hop in and out of the harbours on land. It was inevitable, with hindsight, that I would arrive at a boat that reflected this and provided for it. It was a while before I realised that I had bought a boat that demanded me to be more antisocial than I already was. Her ferrocement construction and that bowsprit put fear into the GRP brigade who watched us creep sinisterly into harbour. I learnt not to go into harbour. Her long keel meant she could never reverse predictably out of a berth. Ditto above. Her speed over the ground meant we were destined to have more sea-time than those we sailed with in company. Her weight and keel and cutter rig meant we were more comfortable out at sea than those others. So I went with her many positives and realised all she wanted from me was to be taken offshore and sailed for weeks on end. She was a ferro cement Labrador with its leash in its mouth when you arrive home from work. She was an Escape Route all on her own.
Sailing for me has always been about getting away. I don’t belong to yacht clubs. I always anchored instead of using a marina. My instinct is to stay at sea till I reach my destination rather than hop in and out of the harbours on land. It was inevitable, with hindsight, that I would arrive at a boat that reflected this and provided for it. It was a while before I realised that I had bought a boat that demanded me to be more antisocial than I already was. Her ferrocement construction and that bowsprit put fear into the GRP brigade who watched us creep sinisterly into harbour. I learnt not to go into harbour. Her long keel meant she could never reverse predictably out of a berth. Ditto above. Her speed over the ground meant we were destined to have more sea-time than those we sailed with in company. Her weight and keel and cutter rig meant we were more comfortable out at sea than those others. So I went with her many positives and realised all she wanted from me was to be taken offshore and sailed for weeks on end. She was a ferro cement Labrador with its leash in its mouth when you arrive home from work. She was an Escape Route all on her own.
The pinnacle: Joshua Petronella
My ferro cement double ender had met all my needs wonderfully, including crossing an ocean, and I loved that canoe stern and bowsprit but she was a little too cramped for living on board in the tropics where comfort means air space. Also, I had discovered that while the Caribbean is the most wonderful sailing I had known the conditions were usually boisterous. My 32footer was lacking power. The Joshua, when I saw her standing in a Trinidad boatyard, with her bowsprit and canoe stern, looked like a very much more powerful version of my 32footer. I loved my little cutter. I was certain I would equally love this powerful ketch.
My ferro cement double ender had met all my needs wonderfully, including crossing an ocean, and I loved that canoe stern and bowsprit but she was a little too cramped for living on board in the tropics where comfort means air space. Also, I had discovered that while the Caribbean is the most wonderful sailing I had known the conditions were usually boisterous. My 32footer was lacking power. The Joshua, when I saw her standing in a Trinidad boatyard, with her bowsprit and canoe stern, looked like a very much more powerful version of my 32footer. I loved my little cutter. I was certain I would equally love this powerful ketch.
Onshore boating
Life in the slow lane: Utopia
This boat doesn't count with the three above. It wasn't a sailing boat.
We bought and moved onto a sixty foot canal boat in 2000. It was a great complement to our sailing life, now that we were spending nearly half the year in the Caribbean. The great purpose of the canal boat was to cut our living costs so much that we wouldn’t need to work as much as we did when paying the costs of living ashore in our little flat. We cut our costs and the flat provided rental income too. Win:Win, as we never actually said back then.
Life in the slow lane: Utopia
This boat doesn't count with the three above. It wasn't a sailing boat.
We bought and moved onto a sixty foot canal boat in 2000. It was a great complement to our sailing life, now that we were spending nearly half the year in the Caribbean. The great purpose of the canal boat was to cut our living costs so much that we wouldn’t need to work as much as we did when paying the costs of living ashore in our little flat. We cut our costs and the flat provided rental income too. Win:Win, as we never actually said back then.
