It is not as hard as it looks but the process exists for a reason

Some time ago a buyer commented, 'your process is too complicated.' It should be just like buying a car. Obviously they did not know what went on in the back office when they last bought a car. To this person it was as easy as handing over the cash and taking the signed off title in return, hooking up the boat to the car and leaving. I did not know them only having talked to them that afternoon. What I inferred was they knew exactly what they wanted, the boat I had listed filled those wants and the fact it was a cash transaction should make the whole process very simple. If it were always so easy.

Buying a boat is much more like buying a house than a car. There are far fewer variables buying a car than a boat, some may argue not true, and the investment of money is different. Most people do not spend a low five digits for cars that are twenty years old or anywhere in between. Even older boats may have values approaching mid five digits. So how could that kind of expenditure be compared to buying a car? Many people sell boats on their own, and I am sure there are many transactions of that nature which are satisfactorily concluded. My experience tells me the percentages are low for success, and just last week received an email from a former buyer he bought a boat on line (not from us) and "got screwed." He did not elaborate, but did tell me he would be looking again. Of course this is anecdotal evidence and hard data might be difficult to obtain. There is just inherent risk in buying high dollar items from people you do not know.

Typically a transaction goes something like this:
    *Contact a broker and discuss your goals for a purchase, total budget, and features you would like to see. You might discuss your experience in boating or with the particular type of boat you are shopping. In addition you will learn about the broker, their experience as a boater, and knowledge of the industry.

  *The broker goes looking.

   *Possibilities are discussed and perhaps arrangements are made to view the boat. You make an offer and the necessary paperwork is completed. The broker contacts the owner of the boat to present the offer. There may be negotiation or there may not. The broker will have consulted with you about the offer and its probability of acceptance and understand your willingness to negotiate.

  *The offer accepted based on contingencies**. Your broker will guide through each of these steps. The typical contingencies are inspection and or survey, and water trial. The offer is finally accepted, you place a deposit, (to the brokerage trust account) and arrangements made to satisfy the contingencies. The contingencies are satisfactorily met and the transaction is completed. If they are not your deposit is refunded.

Now each step deserves its own analysis and commentary which are upcoming. For now consider; would you had over several thousand dollars to complete the transaction without some opportunity to inspect what you are buying? Would want to make sure the seller has the authority to sell the vessel? Would you want to make sure you have a clean title? Would you want some assurance the vessel is capable of doing what it is you want it to do?

The broker should be functioning as your consultant on your journey to buying your boat. Ask questions, even the ones you may think are dumb ones (there are not any dumb ones.) The broker should be willing to discuss boats and boating in general and share their knowledge. They should also tell you want they don't know.

**Costs are borne by the buyer

From the Salish Sea to Home

Captain invited Third Leg to help him bring his boat, a Willard Cutter, home after his four month voyage in South East Alaska. At the risk of significant trouble from the company the invitation was accepted to make the trip from the Salish Sea to its home port near Portland, Oregon on the Multnomah Channel. Secure of faith in technology a Verizon Jet Pack and 3 gigs of data account and mobile phone packed along to at least keep up with daily emails and communications. Picking up The Cook drove north with the wives for the rendezvous in Olympia. After lunch, hugs and kisses, The Cook’s wife and Third Leg’s bride of 40 years returned home and we stowed our gear aboard. 

Departing Olympia late in the day under a bright blue warm sky we motored up Budd Inlet, across Dana Passage into Squaxin Passage to Haro Island State Park; a short cruise. At the helm Third Leg steered the boat to a mooring buoy.

The Captain said, “let’s take” that one.”

“Ok. That one there?” Third Leg called out. The Captain and The Cook were ready to feed the line through the eye.

“No over there, the middle one.”

“Oh.” Then they went ahead and tied off to the one next to the boat. ‘Oh, well’ Third Leg thought, ‘we will nail communications later.’

No one was hungry after the late lunch so a few snacks, an episode of British drama on Netflix everyone found their bunks and slept an unsettled night. (Technology note: The Captain uses a Super Wi Fi Antenna to find open connections – used this throughout his summer cruise.) The intrepid crew spent a fitful night on the buoy as the wind direction did not favor the location.

On day two all rose and departed around 0730. This became the routine which conveniently matched the tide and current from departure to destination. After reviewing the expected course, time, and planned plots with Third Leg, The Captain he announced, “I want to top off the fuel tank.”

The Cook (which eventually just shortened to Cookie) busied himself in the galley making coffee and preparing breakfast, and Third Leg said “Ok.”

“I have a jerry can, and that should be enough to the next place we can fuel.” He pointed out a couple of potentials near our destination of Gig Harbor.

Third Leg eyed the computer screen, made a mental calculation and shrugged. Helping Captain pull the can out of lazarett he added, “gauge says quarter tank but not sure if it is accurate.”

Finishing that task Third Leg put away mooring lines and fenders and sat down with Auto’s shiny new electronic control and checked the course. After breakfast Captain and Cookie discussed who would do dishes in what would become a daily ritual.  Once completed, The Captain came on deck, and Third Leg went about checking emails and responding to inquiries from sellers and buyers. One ear tuned to Cookie and The Captain talking about the now closed McNeil Island prison and avoiding the ferry to starboard.

This section of the trip was mostly, ‘so we turn round than point there?’

‘Yea, that one. See it the one this side of the other one.’ It is the disadvantage of using a small screen laptop. The larger perspective is available but not without some manipulation.

‘Oh, sure I see.’ Fortunately a sail boat does not go so fast course corrections can be made with relatively little embarrassment. As we swung past a bucolic little marina to starboard Cookie asked, “what is that place.”

Third Leg said, “why that is Baston Hawba.”

Cookie gave a look like maybe he was from there. The real Baston Hawba.

Third Leg just chuckled and said under his breath, ‘Yah Baston, south of New Yawk.” Looking around, “well they probably make fun of the way we talk.” For some reason Third Leg was the only who thought his linguistics were funny.

Sliding through the Narrows at high slack tide the next destination eventually hove into view. Gig Harbor is a beautiful and snug location with most amenities within walking distance of the boat. There is a museum of wooden boats, a chandlery, good restaurants (one with killer ice cream called Kelly’s) and a large public dock. There is no fuel, and Captain wanted to fill that, now empty, jerry can. That would wait until later as the first order of business was lunch. Who knew the appetizer menu would include an iceberg wedge salad? It had a profound effect on Cookie, who could not get it off his mind the remainder of the trip. The reduced balsamic vinegar stayed on his tongue.

When it became clear from asking a couple of the locals and consulting the internet via smart phone, we were in for a walk to fill that jerry can.

“We gotta walk up to the highway.”

“Up?”

“Yeh, like San Francisco or Seattle.”

“How far?”

“I dunno, six blocks maybe.” Third Leg stopped, then said, “coming back down carrying forty pounds of diesel, will be the hard part.”

Captain gave a funny look, he had the heart surgery after all, “no worries, I have a hand truck.”

Third Leg rubbed his knees. “Ok, let’s go.”

Captain took the lead towing the handcart with can firmly attached. Cookie looked at Third Leg shrugged and began our slow march. A third of the way up the hill we stopped (cause Captain did.) “Good view.”

“Yeh, great.”

Captain chuckled and resumed the march. Finally reaching our destination he filled the can.

Third Leg took the cart and we began the descent. Halfway down stopping to rub his knees.

Captain stated from behind, “we will stop and get some ice cream.”

‘Great,’ thought Third Leg, ‘this kind of constitutional loosens the bowels.’ Eating ice cream just sounded like swallowing poison at that point.

Stopping in front of the ice cream store Captain and Cookie went in. Third Leg made his excuses and quickened his steps to the boat. A few long moments later--sweet relief.

Emerging from the restroom at the top of the ramp, Third Leg spied Cookie and Captain still eating ice cream. Captain stating, “we will have to go back later.”

Day three opened with a planned destination of Blake Island State Park. “Our first stop is Des Moines for fuel.” Captain stated. “Since we are entering a VTS (Vessel Traffic Separation) are we will just track along this line.” He pointed to the salmon/pink dotted line on the chart. Pulling out his pad, he pulled up another chart which he frequently referenced. Great planning tool, but since the manufacturer saw fit not to put in a GPS into the IPAD we could not utilize the full power available in the program. Hence followed a long conversation about upgrading the device at minimal cost. One of the Captain’s virtues.

As we motored up (North) through the East Passage, passing through the short Dalco Passage first with Maury Island to port, Captain pointed several land marks along our route. A couple of largish power boats motored out fast after clearing the breakwater at Des Moines. Captain commented, “wait till tomorrow, ferry boat wakes are bigger.”

Third Leg’s mind wandered while standing at the computer. ‘One thing about the ocean, there is a certain rhythm, boat wakes just toss everything around.’ This comment will come back to haunt him.

The approach, entrance, and refueling session at Des Moines passed without incident or any comments of particular interest other than learning Cookie’s brain is filled with far more trivia than Third Leg. Everyone thought Third Leg the master of the arcane thought, but the torch has been passed to Cookie, at least in Third Leg’s mind. 

Blake Island is a favorite destination for boaters from Seattle due to its proximity to the city. It must be crazy on Friday afternoon in the summer. The camp host was friendly and directed the boat to a dock. The showers are usable but on Captain’s advice deferred that activity to another subsequent port. Instead a walk was ordered up. Great walking trails, but for the most part the tracks are in deep forest and the canopy is thick. Back at the docks deer grazed nonchalantly allowing posing for a number of photos and as the sun set and the full moon rose above the skyline. The view was impressive.

Captain was proud of his existence without ice (two months he says.) Cookie and Third Leg really disrupted that by bringing some food items that are best served cool. Unfortunately block ice was never found, and cocktail ice has a shorter life span than a dragonfly. The eggs, chicken, bacon and other perishables were eaten early in the cruise. Cookie made eggs and bacon for breakfast and the now thawed chicken was added to rice and beans tonight.

“Pretty good, Cookie.”

“Thanks.”

“Too bad we don’t have some curry.”

“I do, hang on,” exclaimed Captain! He dove below and began digging through his supplies. Now understand this boat has more places to store stuff than most bigger boats. When something went missing Captain would say, “it is only a thirty foot boat.” There are a lot of hiding places, however. In a moment he came up with a small container of curry powder.

“Ahh, that will answer,” Third Leg stated.

“Good,” grunted Cookie.

The evening was complete when after dinner, we snapped a number of pictures, settled into watching Foyle’s War on Netflix, and Cookie fell into slumber.

The next day dawned foggy, really foggy. Not as foggy as some trips though. Recollection of a night leaving Port Angeles so foggy the bow lights could not be seen and wearing a towel around the neck ‘cause the air was so thick the glasses had to be wiped every few minutes. It was not that bad. Captain did fire up the radar however and we left Blake Island quietly. Our destination, Port Townsend, was some distance so it was going to be long day. The forecast, as before, predicted no wind so we would listen to the iron jenny all day. Sokay—it is a smooth running engine.

As usual Third Leg took the first trick at the wheel while Cookie, under the watchful of eyeThe Captain, made breakfast. Now that sounds worse than it really was, it is just that The Captain knew the location of everything. Thanks to a previous guest aboard we had superlative oatmeal with raisins, bananas, and brown sugar. Oh yeh good hot coffee.

Third Leg steered, actually telling Auto to steer, a course North through Puget Sound again following the western edge of the VTS. Tugs and Ferry’s moved in and out of the fog and thanks to the radar kept us well clear. By the time we changed heading at Point No Point came abeam, the sun was burning off the remainder of the morning mist. By this time Third Leg had finished the morning email, having long since been relieved of poking Auto’s buttons. Standing on the companion way steps a broad view of the area revealed Whidbey Island to the north and the still snow covered Mount Baker.

For some reason the morning ritual of reviewing the planned course did not take place. Third Leg, reluctant to call out the Captain, merely stretched around to look at the laptop screen. “Forecast for Admiralty Inlet is for small craft advisories this afternoon.”

“Not going that way. Going to Oak Bay and through the Port Townsend Canal.”

 I did not need to see the planning chart on the pad to see we were already bucking an incoming tide. “Are we late,” Third Leg ventured?

“Depends on how you look at it.” Captain chuckled. “We will be ahead of the slack so it may be a bit slow going through the Canal.”

We were and it was. It was a nice ‘shortcut’ though.

Emerging on the other side we speculated on what the Navy did on Indian Island recognizing in the end we had no clue. Port Townsend lay ahead, and unfortunately or fortunately, we missed the Wooden Boat Festival by a weekend. Tying up to the dock we were still in the midst of a number of beautiful wood boats. Rounding up quarters we headed to the showers, noting the cleaning lady was not put off. Cookie seemed most disturbed.

Venturing around Port Townsend is an interesting activity. The architecture is striking and the tree lined streets are inviting to walk. The crew had many choices for dinner, but settled on finding a place by way of an alley off a side street to enjoy the view of the water. The limited menu looked good as Cookie ordered off the appetizer list;   oyster shooters, artichoke dip, and spiced potato tots. Oh, yeh cold beer from a local brewery also. Cookie commented again how much he liked the salad at Gig Harbor.  Slow walking back the ice cream vendor was located, and the helping was generous, but not as good as the place back at Gig Harbor.

We got back to the dock and another transient boater asked “is that your Bayliner?” In unison we shook our heads.

Captain pointed out we were on the cutter.

“Well you may want to check the back of your boat.” He pointed, “I think he may have hit it.”

Seems the big power boat came untied and the only thing keeping it from caroming off other boats was that it was plugged into shore power. Checking the aft end of the Willard there appeared to be no damage other than the bar-b-que askew. ‘I took a line from them when they came in but did not watch them tie off,’ thought Third Leg. ‘Make a note for future reference.’ Also remembering the skipper saying the boat had not been out for two and a half years as he maneuvered into the dock. Also, now it was tied port side to rather than starboard. Guess the guy will figure it out.

Getting under way the next morning for Port Angles, Third Leg could feel the tug of upcoming long day and night down the coast. The weather forecast was still favorable for a Saturday departure from Neah Bay. For now we would enjoy replenishing a few supplies at Port Angeles. The usual morning drill, Third Leg steered around Pt. Hudson with the top of Admiralty Inlet to starboard. A short time later the boat Pt Wilson and again followed a course along the (now southern) boundary of the VTS.

A breakfast of The Captain’s French toast was not only welcome, but settled down the ensuing who would do dishes dialogue. The eastern end of the Straits of Juan de Fuca were un-naturally calm, bringing the view across to Victoria closer. It is a short sixteen nautical miles from our next destination, but on some afternoons can seem interminably long. The benevolence persisted all the way into Port Angeles.

Tying up to the fuel dock The Captain wanted to top off the tank, and Cookie inquired about ice and nearest grocery store. The Harbor master responded Ice was available at a café at the top of the ramp and gave up general locations for the store. He assigned our spot for the evening and tied up.

Now everything is a long way away in Port Angeles. The good news—it has the fuel dock. There is a considerable commercial fishing fleet and in the transient area you will see everything that looks like it could go around the world in comfort and some that should not be in the neighbors irrigation pond.

“How about some lunch?” The Captain Inquired.

Silent and enthusiastic nods from Cookie and Third Leg. ‘Lord I have gained weight on this trip,’ he thought. Walking the length of the dock as the Willard was tied at its extreme end, the various and sundry were eye balled and discussed. Passing a J42 bound for Portland The Captain talked briefly with one of the crew. A sailing plan roughly the same.

“What’s on the menu?” All staring at the ‘specials’ on the wall.

“Seafood.”

“Ok, let’s go.” Cookie noted the place has ice also.

“Well that was good, shall we go for a walk?”

Locating a nearby grocery store, a sort of New Season’s type place, the shelves were perused for items to see us through the next three days. The overall plan to procure what could easily be made underway, on and off watch, in conditions which would never allow a level deck. Satisfied we had enough the next quest was for, what can’t you guess? Ice cream. All three knew the Dairy Queen was near the wharf for the Coho ferry so a course was plotted. Finishing this end of the walk along the new (relatively) public area just to the east the plot was laid to return to the marina.

Walking by the café where lunch was had previously resulted in disappointment as they were closed. No ice.

“Well I will walk back to the gas station,” Third Leg volunteered.

Cookie said he would go.

The Captain said, “let’s stow our groceries and we can all walk back.”

Third Leg raised an eyebrow, ‘exasperation maybe. Naw, he really likes to walk and he does it a lot.’

On the way back with ice the chat continued with the boat on its way back to Portland. A crew of three also, and it will stretch its legs on the way. Never mind it had twelve feet of additional length it’s a J boat.

The rest of the afternoon passed pleasantly noting another fast looking sloop came in and tied up for the night. Her home port announced San Francisco. A third boat in the flotilla all mused. Knowing the boat would never be seen again once we departed as it (we were to learn later) raced south and home.

“Hey Cookie, can you stay up for another installment of Foyle’s War,” asked the Captain?

“You guys go ahead and follow your routine,” he smiled.

Since the laptop provided the viewing from its perch on the counter atop the companion way ladder Third Leg made his seat on the cabin sole. Utilizing two back cushions from the settee and moving a folding table just long enough to bar the passage to the head and V berth as the support for one of the two cushions.

The Captain popped a kettle full of pop corn (no microwave stuff), Cookie stretched out the port settee happily munching corn. Third Leg assumed his position on the cabin sole. The Captain announced, “we may see the Aurora on the way home, big CME’s.”

“Ha,” cried Third Leg. “Hey Cookie if I have told you this story, tell me to stop.” Swallowing some crushed salty goodness. “This was years ago, I think my first trip on this boat Captain.”

“Yeh, we had not had it too long at that time.”

“Bout, this time of year I reckon. Anyway we were already outside heading south and I was on watch by myself. For some reason The Captain had decided we should stop in La Push.” Cookie tried to interject some story or other about when he lived and worked there. Another of many he could tell of the multitudinous locations he has lived in or worked. But those are his stories. “I got the floor now Cookie, wait your turn.” Third Leg waived his arm.

The Captain laughed at that one. “We stopped because it is an interesting place, and to slow us down to make the high tide on the bar.”

Third Leg knew he had them now and did not want to distract them from the story. “Anyway it was about two in the morning. You could see Destruction Island Light – that was when it was still there.”

“Isn’t it?” Queried The Captain. “

Third Leg gave him a funny look, “according to the 2014 Light List. It has been a couple of years since my last trip. Not sure when the Coasties decommissioned it.” Third Leg paused for a drink of water, “I’ll be brief.”

Cookie snorted, “yeh sure.”

“Everybody needs a peanut gallery. As I was saying I was on watch and happened to look aft and right there in the North was the most beautiful display of celestial light I had ever seen. It hung like a blue green curtain waiving in the wind. I was so excited I hollered below ‘Hey the Aurora is out. In unison, from below, ‘we’ve seen it! Call us again on the watch change.’ Well I thought then, your loss. I had never seen it and damn it was spiritual.”

The Captain said, “well I will make sure you have that piece of the midwatch then.”

“Thanks Skipper,” Third Leg grinned.

Cookie started to relate some story again about the Northern Lights around some place up North he had worked.

The Captain said, “ok let’s watch the movie.”

Cookie was starting to doze off anyway.

We left a little later the next day, than had been our usual routine, and The Captain figured we would get into Neah Bay around 1600hours, and he hit it about spot on. Third Leg did not even make a comment at the morning “briefing.” Once again at the helm for the first trick and the breakfast banter. The sea state was near perfect compared to some previous trips. No fog, a shifting wind, and unfortunately an incoming tide. We rolled on out watching the shrinking sails of the two acquaintances from yesterday. Both reached across the Strait and we lost sight of the San Francisco boat early. A few fishing boats, big commercial vessels, and a clear view of Vancouver Island were companions on the trip.  

At the usual post meal shift change Cookie and The Captain came on deck. “Let’s put up the staysail.”

The Captain and Third Leg moved cautiously forward and set to work. Several times on the trip the staysail had been hoisted, but under the current conditions the goal to stabilize the role of the boat would be reached.

Completing that chore Third Leg turned below to check emails and review inquiries. The afternoon passed slowly and Third Leg noted the various sea states from flat calm to three foot swells, confused surface, and occasional one to two foot wind waves.

“At least no fog.” The Captain stated flatly.

“Oh yeh,” Third Leg stopped, ‘humm, already told them that story,’ he mused.

The J42 crossed our bow a few miles out heading into Neah Bay.

As Cookie managed the helm Captain and Third Leg doused the stay sail. Third Leg noting that no one was anchored out. An unusual site as we motored deeper into the bay. Third Leg secured the fenders with Cookie’s help and we tied to the gas dock, a short distance from the marina. Picking up a finger opposite the J42 The Captain went up to the moorage office seconding as a small grocery and fishing supply. Since the harbor master wanted us on the same finger adjacent to our new acquaintances The Captain said, “we will just hand line her over.” The space between the fingers is much wider than the length of the boat we easily turned her and pointed bow out.

Now there is not much in Neah Bay other than a world class museum. The J boat crew recommend the pizza at a little vendor. Sounded good to us. Third Leg told his bride upon returning home. ‘Two solid reasons for making a weekend road trip, honey. Smoked Salmon Pizza in Neah Bay and ice cream in Gig Harbor.’

Since the plan was to leave a little later  in the morning tomorrow we did not go through the usual prep of stowing loose items and rigging jack lines. There was time also for breakfast at the Round House. Nothing like eggs, bacon, and pancakes to settle a nervous stomach. The Captain figured to cross the bar at around 1300 hours on the slack Sunday afternoon. Leaving by 1000 in the morning will give us ample room either way. “We can slow the boat down; we can’t speed her up,” he emphasized.

Third Leg thought inwardly of the crossing into La Push dismissing the thought quickly, ‘different circumstances then. Besides we will only be a few hours into the trip.’

After stowing gear and rigging jack lines the essentials were laid out including harness and PFD. The weather report looked benign but that also meant no favorable winds. The forecast called for an offshore flow, not unusual for this time of year, and a westerly swell for most of the trip. The swell would become northwesterly generally south of Gray’s Harbor. The last trip was similar mused Third Leg, but more wind and that westerly swell made for a somewhat uncomfortable trip. This would be different with the absence of the predominant north westerly’s. 

The Captain laid out the plan including taking the short cut through Hole in the Wall. Considering the sea state and an ebb tide, “should be easy to see the rocks.”

Most of yesterday The Captain pondered an appropriate watch schedule and still discussed the dilemma of meeting his goal of having two on watch through the night as we departed. Third Leg only contributed, “won’t work. Each of us will have stand one hour alone in the night.” Finally agreeing the schedule was posted.

Now Hole in the Wall is a local knowledge thing. The more cautious route is around Duntze Rock leaving its light well abeam. The pass provides access from the Pacific to the Straits through a narrow channel between Tatoosh Island and Cape Flattery. To avoid the drying rocks (low tide) it is best to stay close to the island. There are no markers. That’s the local knowledge thing. Sea lions barked and a helicopter passed from the mainland to the island carrying a bucket, the assumption was some construction on the island. Like many other islands with lights on the North Pacific coast this one was once serviced by a keeper. ‘A lonely and courageous existence,’ thought Third Leg.

Cookie cooked up the last of the bacon and served an excellent lunch of BLT’s and chips. “All food is better on the water,” announced Third Leg. “Thanks Cookie!”

“You are welcome,” he grinned. “A regular lunch meal on the tugs I worked on bound for Alaska.”

“Right,” chuckled the Captain.

The afternoon passed leaving La Push and Umatilla Reef behind while still in the daylight. As the late afternoon progressed it seemed a good idea to use up some the perishable vegetables for the evening meal. As anyone who has done this recognizes working the galley in any kind of seaway can be difficult. Third Leg was sure he had it mastered, mixing together lettuce, tomato, onion, canned corn, canned peas, some cheese, chopped almonds (try that underway), and seasoning. Viola! Chicken salad, once the canned chicken breast is added. Third Leg was pleased with himself as he dished up for Cookie and the Captain, and even managed to clean up the galley. Then, ‘where did that seventh one come from?’ The remainder of the bowl managing to find itself upside down on the deck. “Damn it,” cried Third Leg.

“Sorry. I saw that one coming.”

“Thanks,” grumbled Third Leg.

“Its Ok,” smiled Cookie, “everyone got seconds.”

“Not like it is the first time it has happened,” said The Captain smiling.

“Thanks guys. I think I need to gift some carpet cleaner, Skipper.”

“Probably that rug needs replacing anyway.”

There are four points of activity along the Washington coast. General locations where it pays to keep out an eye for other vessels with a tad more intensity and a sharp watch on the radar at night. Local sailors always make the remark that ‘the crab pots go away at night.’ So staying out past the hundred fathom line is always a safe bet. It is a good idea to watch for floats in any case. The Straits are behind as is the port of La Push and as the night began and the number of boats that could be seen diminished. What is left is a celestial tapestry that is unbelievable. Third Leg thought to himself, ‘there is nothing like a clear night on the ocean.’ Stars appear right down to the horizon and the Milky Way occludes the night sky like a cloud. The stars barely twinkle and the manmade objects compare poorly to the view. Third Leg felt good about getting the 2200 to 2400 watch to see the moon coming up. Coming back up on deck at 0200 a city had bloomed around him. The area off Gray’s Harbor is one of the “areas” of activity. The lights of fishing boats nearby and distant shone well to the west. The numerous buoys marking the entrance winked in the night and the RACOR return from the number one buoy made a large bright spot on the radar. Standing watch alone at this time provides a welcome solitude, but no aurora. The Northern Lights failed to appear. Third Leg decided to let Cookie sleep and stood the second hour alone watching the passing lights. Around 0400 I rousted him out and The Captain.

Waking around 0700, Third Leg made coffee without the mishap of the previous evening. The sun was coming up and the forecast held as the swell was now rolling out the northwest.  Cookie was rustling and Third Leg knew the morning routine established seven days ago would begin. Third Leg took his turn playing with Auto, The Captain went below to muster up breakfast and subsequently a nap.

With the sun up full the eyes start straining to see the North Jetty. Cape Disappointment is visible and it occurs to Third Leg, this is when things can get weird. More recreational and commercial fishing boats, lots more crab pots, and the nearness of the “quiet water” of the river beckons’. The frequent and numerical growth of all the above proved no surprise. As the rumb line pointed closer to about buoy six, the number of pots grew as did the number of commercial fishing rigs. Third Leg shut down Auto and thanked him for his dedication. He could take a rest until we reached the bar.

Third Leg checked his watch. “We are early,” he said to no one in particular. The bar pilot announced a large ship inbound. The bearing did not look good to Third Leg, so steered a course towards its stern. ‘Damn crab pots.’ Quickly maneuvering around. Resuming the course the boat headed on a more southerly course. This happened frequently. Now about two miles off the North Jetty and the ship well in we bounced on the still ebbing tide slowly making the way in.

A fuel stop in Astoria, sandwiches from the galley under Cookie’s care and the boat headed upriver to Cathlamet. The Captain napped. Under clear windless skies motored into the Elochoman Marina.  Third Leg, under the Captains tutelage, eased the boat into a starboard tie turning the cutter inside the little fairway between the docks. Behind a big Hunter which had passed on the way up river.  The Captain and Cookie regaled the crew of the Hunter, but Third Leg had no interest in being friendly. Only getting a shower and shave. A ‘B’ line to the showers. Looking over his shoulder Third leg saw his escape was a near things as the female representative of the Hunter crew seemed to be intent on bending the Captain’s ear all the way down the dock.

The evenings activities were probably some of the most entertaining, but to comment on the locals might bring the wrong impression of this neat destination on the Columbia. The Captain did buy ice cream at the local grocery. Talking the long walk back to the marina The Captain noted the expansion of the facilities and the drying of the treatment ponds since the city now had a treatment plant. Ahh progress.

Departure the next morning and a plan to make the long run back home. There are two ways into Cathlamet (or exits depending on your destination.) One is around Puget Island. Longer and in the summer windier and rougher. The other is through the Cathlamet Channel. All three of the crew has navigated the channel prior to the Coast Guard placing ATON's. They have since been removed due to the "shifting channel." We took this shorter route and even though a couple of the "old" references (pre ATON) are gone. The trip up river was uneventful and relaxing in the late summer sun. 

Enjoying an adult beverage on Cookie’s deck late that afternoon, he stated  “man that salad was good”.

The Captain and Third Leg laughed together, and The Captain added, “yeh and so was the ice cream.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

From Practical Sailor Waypoints--Stop That Leak

A repost from Practical Sailor Waypoints.

Practical Sailor Waypoints - Stop That Leak!

 

 

 

Practical Sailor

9/03/14

                 

Modern chemistry has presented us with new choices of sealants for everything, including the kitchen sink. Stop That Leak! Modern chemistry has presented us with new choices of sealants for everything

From:	Practical Sailor (practicalsailor@e.practical-sailor.com)
Sent:	Wed 9/03/14 7:15 AM
To:

Modern chemistry has presented us with new choices of sealants for everything, including the kitchen sink.

Stop That Leak! Modern chemistry has presented us with new choices of sealants for everything, including the kitchen sink. The trick is to choose the right one. Some sealants get hard enough to sand or drill, and others stay supple. Some will stick to anything; others pull away from glass and certain plastics. Some will writhe and stretch as your boat "works." Others crack. And some, designed for household use, won't hold up in the harsh heat, cold, wind, and ultraviolet light your boat is subject to. There are six major sealant types, all with special uses. Read the labels to be sure, but a good marine sealant should perform as follows: Bedding Compounds Many boatbuilders still use bedding compounds such as Interlux 214 for bedding deck hardware, cleats, padeyes, flanges and more. The surface of this bedding compound hardens to allow painting, but stays flexible underneath the surface to provide a flexible waterproof seal. Bedding compounds will tend to dry out over time and hardware will need to be re-bedded. Silicones Sticks to almost everything including glass, electrical insulation, and most metals. Ideal insulator and waterproof for wiring including trailer wiring, windshields and ports, and emergency gaskets in applications where temperatures don't exceed 400 degrees F. Don't use with polypropylene, under water, or in areas where you want to sand and paint. Not as good as polysulfide in areas that take a lot of twisting, compression, contraction, and expansion. They are generally safe to use with most plastic glazing, including Lexan and acrylic (Plexiglas). Polysulfides Use above and below the waterline. Can take up to 25 percent stretching, twisting, expansion and will bond difficult surfaces including oily woods, aluminum, and glass. (Read directions for possible surface preparation steps.) Can be sanded and painted. Available in liquid form to ease filling of hairline cracks. Drawback: takes up to 10 days to cure in a humid climate; longer in dry climate. If you're not counting on it as a waterproofer, you can launch the boat right after caulking because water speeds curing time. Other caulks cure faster. Polyurethane Polyurethane sealants and adhesives have grown in popularity and are preferred by boatbuilders for projects like sealing hull-to-deck joints and installing through-hulls. The long-chain molecules that crosslink in the curing process include isocyanate resin that reacts with moisture to form a flexible solid. These highly adhesive polymers offer both excellent surface grip and desirable gap-filling characteristics. There are numerous formulations that lead to products with different cure rates, elongation characteristics, and tensile strength. Polyether-Based Caulks These are the newest genre of ultra flexible gap-filling adhesive/sealants, and their cure is dramatically accelerated by a more reactive methyl silyl-enhanced reaction with water vapor that causes polyether products to skin cure faster than silicone and deep cure much quicker than polyurethanes. Their lack of solvents eliminates odor and minimizes shrinkage-based skin stress. They have very favorable stretch capacity and good resistance to ultraviolet rays and weathering. Butyls Cure fast, stick well, can be used on polypropylene where polysulfide cannot. Not sandable, but can be painted. Easy to apply, and cures to supple rubber. Acrylics Ideal for bedding on wood, fiberglass, metals. Skins over quickly and can be painted after half an hour; full cure in one to two days. Water soluble which means easy water clean-up but also that it's not suitable for underwater use. For more information on choosing the right sealants and how to apply them, purchase This Old Boat, Second Edition today

Perspective and Engine Hours

 

Perspective

Everyone knows perception is an individual’s view of reality. People describe their realities connecting adjectives, adverbs, and nouns together forming a sentence. When it comes to describing their perception of a boat the use of adjectives in particular is startling. There are differences in the perception, particularly between buyer and seller, that is always (note I rarely use absolutes) profound. For the broker handling expressions of these differences can be a challenge.

When buyers are introduced to a vessel virtually or in person their usual reaction is silence. No opinion is expressed or they will just say it is not a boat in which they have any interest. The seller will want to know what they thought and the broker will offer up some explanation, with just enough truth, to explain why there will not be an offer. Sometimes the buyer will be more direct, and in varying degrees. By that the adjectives used will become progressively more negative depending upon the personality of the buyer. These descriptive statements may vary between, ‘it needs more work than I want to put into it’ to ‘that boat is a wreck!’ In the virtual world handling and epithet like the second is easier. In person it is a good deal harder. When the buyer is there, there is a sense of the emotional state; virtually, the senses are of no use. There is never (absolutes again) any point in arguing with a buyer or trying to counter those negative perceptions. It is best to just suggest ‘we keep looking,’ and move on. Of course embrace what is learned. All the buyer did was offer up an objection.

The best way to handle the negative perceptions is to understand the expectations of the buyer. It takes a little effort, but is worthwhile.

For sellers, always make sure your boat is ready to view. If there are deficiencies disclose them ahead of time.

 For buyers, perspective is yours but it may different than the seller so for the sake of good manners keep the opinion to yourself for later discussion.

Engine Hours

A frequent question from buyers is, “How many hours on the engine?”

Typically the answer is, (1) a specific value, (2) unknown, or (3) a value with disclaimer ‘best guess.’ Not all engines have hour meters. Like Kleenex for tissue paper Hobbs Meter is used as a generic term. The Hobbs Meter was developed for aircraft to monitor the time between the Master Switch On and the Master Switch Off. On boats, when present, the hour meter starts turning when the key is switched on. On others it may start only when the distributer starts spinning. The meter is useful to the owner to properly schedule maintenance. “A functioning hour meter is essential for properly scheduling maintenance. A well-maintained auxiliary diesel should easily run 5,000 hours between overhauls.”[1] T

The proper question might be then, “Are maintenance records available?” This inquiry with a positive response from seller of boat seems to me to be far more useful. The importance of this information should be apparent and it is verifiable through the log book, receipts, and inspection of the engine by the buyer, surveyor or mechanic. It is also valuable to the current owner and prospective owner to obtain a lab report of an engine oil sample. Oil samples must be taken on a regular basis so that a typical wear pattern can be established for an engine, enabling detection of abnormalities when they occur.[2] Lab tests are typically inexpensive and provide a wealth of information. Engine hours can be best estimated, on a gas engine, by a marine mechanic.

Today some outboard builders add hour meters and are useful as noted above. An acquaintance in the USCG said the big outboards on their vessels run hundreds of hours, if not thousands. They are run every day. Outboard builders design engines with the expectations the motors will set for long periods of time, unused. Verification of regular maintenance becomes even more important.

The value of the question then is very limited without placing it in the context of maintenance history.

So to sellers I would say, keep those records. With the fall season upon us many will have boats winterized and stored for the season, so now is a good time to gather up those receipts for inspection. Others will continue to use their vessels, like yours truly, and the boat never really has a down season (other than maybe January.) So update the log book and bind off those records from the yard.

For buyers, ask the important questions. The ones when verified reveal what you need to know when buying a boat.

 

 

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[1] Don Casey, Complete Illustrated Sailboat Maintenance Manual, International Marine/McGraw Hill 2006

[2] Nigel Calder Boatowner’s Mechanical and Electrical Manual (2^nd Ed.) International Marine/McGraw Hill 1996

Bankers and Boat Values

It just occurred to me, as I looked over a valuation sheet sent to me by a seller, how bankers express their reluctance to make boat loans. Like insurance companies that premiums on certain product lines use that pricing to control their overall exposure to the risk in the market place. A banker can look at borrower and measure the character and capacity with (payment history and ability to repay,) and have a quality loan, but the collateral (includes down payment amount) is on an asset they just don't want to mess with and this case it is a boat!

Where bankers are out of touch with maritime history (isn't everybody) is that pricing an item in the model as Low Retail and Average Retail presumes there is an active after market for used boat gear. Although many marine exchanges thrive around the country it is not a business that has wide spread appeal as there is very little useful used marine equipment. In addition technology changes quickly, and replacing many items on a boat with used product may impair safety and operability of the vessel. Mariners of old expected items damaged by loss to be replaced with new. Similar to your current home owners policy which has direct lineage to yacht and ship policies. So replacing gear on a boat and using some arbitrary valuation for used gear seems silly. Nobody is gonna do that. Ok, I do know someone who would, but they shall remain nameless. If the VHF quits chances are it is replaced with a new one, or the autohelm. If the running rigging needs replaced, typically it is replaced with new line, and so on.

Fighting with a banker, is like fighting city hall. There may be some short term gratification, but in the long term you only get tired.

An idea

As many of my readers know--I think I am up to four now. I have been working as a yacht/boat broker for POP Yachts for a little while. Looking for ways to expand my base it occurred to me to use this blog to tell you about new listings. The blog goes to Twitter which uploads to Facebook and LinkdedIN. My concern is become to commercial, but I get excited about boats, talking with buyers and sellers, and learning what people do with their recreational time on the water. Check out my listings: robertw.popyachts.com

What is missed

Waaall the governmint is shut down, third full day I think, and not missing it so far. Although I feel bad for the 800K+ employees furloughed (more competitors for fewer job openings). Let's see I have worked six months out of the last twenty one. Not a great record. This blog started as record of our journey to buy a bigger boat. Now it seems to be a record of why I probably never will. It is a kind of 'oh well' situation. I have a boat.

In a love affair you get rather caught up in the moment. Higher brain functions shut down, vision (clarity of thought and eye) is diminished. The tendency is to focus on only what makes your heart race, makes you shiver with anticipation, and create a more or less constant smile on your face, to appreciate only that moment. Same with a boat, at least for some, it is like that for me. I always feel better even in inclement weather when I am on, near, or working on the boat. Doesn't matter; I am with her. Get it? Every thing done during the day is about her. Read about boats, read about navigation, play with the chart tool, research boats, fantasize about what you will do together. Stay fit, keep her in shape. You see if this is not what it is about or some variation, don't bother. You are not a boater, never will be a boater, and never care about EVERYTHING associated with boating. You may be boat owner, but you will never CARE about it. I know this from the number of boats I see that have not been used in a very long time. It seemed fun to have one for that first summer, but then some work needed to be done, or something broke, or some minor incident occurred that put you off; trouble at the boat ramp or something like that. Worse your significant other does not like boating, or maybe the kids don't like it.

So I am more or less stepping off the deep end. For years it has been a dream to work in the boating industry. Hell, I woulda swept the floor of the paint building for work to be near boats and the water. Just nothing materialized until now. A yacht broker has agreed to take me on, teach me the business, and I plan on being successful. Sure it is late, but I would like to finish my work years caring about my job. You know I have been working since I was twelve, and as I think back on it I never really cared about any of "career." Oh, don't get me wrong, some of it was fun. I have met, worked with, and conspired with some unforgettable people. Some actually could inspire and get me passionate about what I was doing. But they were rare and not around anymore.

I want the passion back. The shiver of anticipation and a constant smile. I can't go sailing everyday, but I can talk to people everyday who may want to be more than just boat owners.