Old Boats and Old Houses

I believe I have been fairly clear in my fondness for a home that is was created in an pre plastics, polymers and composites era.  A home with some age to it.  That has seen a few things, lived through some times, for better or worse. A home constructed from timber within a couple mile radius, that doesn't offgas petrol byproducts into your home. A storyteller with four walls.
I am moving more into "appreciation" of the above type home, and the owners who love and maintain them... as opposed to owning said home and being responsible for its upkeep. That is a never ending money pit, similar to owning a boat.
I discovered a whole new layer of ownership insanity this weekend. Well, I always knew about it, but the level that one can descend into it was eye-opening.
Old boats.  We have pulled the sailboat out into a boatyard to give it a fresh coat of bottom paint.  We took a walk a couple nights ago and saw some amazing boats.

We walked around a corner and off in the distance was this hue of mud looming gigantic over the roadway. This one made me sharply realize I should never own a boat. Because I am strongly drawn to this type of project.  I get the idea of seeing this boat sit sunken and derelict in the water for a couple years, only its mast sticking up out of the water... and wanting to pull it out and rescue it.  That Is Insanity.
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Turns out there is a slight reason for this insanity... this is a boat John Steinbeck wrote about. Built in 1937, Steinbeck and a marine biologist friend chartered it soon afterwards building tales with it.  Its most recent home was drowned in gunk in Anacortes.  Estimated cost to fix? 1 million.  And it will never float again. Even I, nutty person for old things with stories, would not venture onto this project. Although I have to say, I would volunteer to help for a time.
 

Sailing to the San Juan Islands

I just finished a weeklong tour of the San Juan Islands via a 33' sailboat. Gorgeous weather the whole time, I was with an experienced sailor who knows his boat inside and out.  Therefore, on the last day when we headed out across the strait of Juan de Fuca, with a small craft advisory that whipped us across that long strait in a few hours, I had no concerns other than seasickness.
There were a few pondering moments....noticing we were the only boat on the water except for a Navy ship... the only boat in the major shipping lanes from Seattle and Tacoma on a weekday.... I pondered a "huh" but had no worries.  Noticing my upper back was sore for three days afterwards for solidly yanking on the tiller to keep the sailboat on course while we surfed the waves- and I was not the primary person on the tiller.

The San Juan Islands (central), Vancouver Island (left) , and northern peninsula of Washington (bottom).  I am writing of sailing somewhat where the green line runs from Friday Harbor to Port Townsend.  

Noticing at times one side of the boat's gunwale skimmed alternatively on top and then slightly underwater as the waves rolled with, through, alongside us.
By the time we got into port it was dark.  Another highlight : learning how to avoid moored boats in the dark. A very quantifiable skill-  I don't think I can add it to my resume, however.

Bottom line is the boat has a certain gravitas, and solidly loves to be upright. That is not to say I was very aware that if I was alone on that sea... the boat would not have fared as well.  I follow instructions well when it is important!

Note the horizon line is not level.  So the boat (33' Luders) is even more angled than this pic.  We are heading to the left land form directly ahead.