Long before the after.

Boats come to us in strange and mysterious ways. Most of the vessels connected to us in one way or another were built by Bruce. A few we found, some we bought, a couple were castoffs gifted to us. The only thing I know for certain is that there’s been a lot of them and each ones been different from the rest. The most recent “acquisition” came through a trade; one of Bruce’s paintings for a tired, old, wooden boat. It was a Norwegian Kutter, twenty three feet long, fifty years old, built of Douglas fir. Although I knew Bruce would breathe life back into it, others might have been wondering who got the better end of that deal.

Last fall we retrieved her from Seattle’s Center for Wooden Boats where she’d been left to wait like a homely kid in an orphanage. We trailered it home, jacked it up securely and left it to rest for the winter. It had PROJECT written all over it with nothing more to offer than a decrepit hull and keel. No sails, no mast, no gear. But it was pretty and full of potential in the eyes of Bruce, the builder, who had adopted another boat.

For the past two months he’s been making a lot of noise beside our house, sawing, sanding, pounding, grinding. First the holes in the hull disappeared; frames and floors were added below the waterline. Then, the deck was repaired and strengthened. A cabin was added, a mast built, the boom created, a rudder evolved. At some point between a cloud of dust and the symphony of noise he hauled out an antique outboard motor from storage and promoted it to chief engine. But, after a dozen years of non-use, it refused to start. He pulled the cord, messed with the plugs, jiggled with the wires then started the sequence again. It’s an old British Seagull that few have knowledge about so he went digging on the internet where he discovered an odd tip about attaching a drill to the flywheel to re-magnetize the magnet. After following the directions like a brain surgeon, he pulled the cord and PUH-PUH-PUH-PUH-PUH! A blue gas cloud filled the air and it ran like a top!

Checking off the list: boat, gear, engine. With only the sails left, out came the pre-war Pfaff sewing machine that had only been used by someone’s Grandma but never by us. It, too, wouldn’t get going. So he pulled on the wheel, messed with the gears, jiggled with the timing, started the sequence over again until it, too, roared to life. Then he stitched and stitched, hanked them on and finally, our new boat, Kutty? was done.


Our new old boat goes to town.

This past week I followed the truck that hauled her into town.

5..4..3..2..1..SPLASHDOWN!

A travel lift hoisted her into the air for a brief flight before splashing into the water. Withflowers adorning her bow, she settled in comfortably before coming alongside the dock. Within two hours Bruce had her dressed in red and sailing the harbor, turning every head they passed. The old gal has a new life and we have a new boat.
Jan



The end of the first sail with friends Tom and Jan Tallman.