Sitting in a canoe with cold fingers and feet, watching a beautiful dark blue hulled ketch slowly motor by—its occupants comfortable and dry under their dodger—filled me with envy. This was especially true knowing that we were headed for a rocky beach to camp another night in already-damp sleeping bags, sure to nod off uncomfortably envisioning their warm bunks on board. After 10 days of living from a canoe with plenty of time for a wandering mind, these visions stick in our memories and give us the impetus for change—shifting gears, as it were.
Reeling back through time, I can pinpoint some of the mental gear changes that led to “progress” in our boating career. Watching that ketch near the end of our canoe trip through Haida Gwaii spurred me to study sailboats as a comfort option for our adventures. I had some sailing experience with a friend who had a fancy timeshare boat arrangement, but had always thought that was out of reach. Discomfort is a great motivator, and it turns out that sailboats are not so unreasonably expensive if you don’t buy a new one.
Another vision came after a long day beating down Saratoga Passage in our Kent Ranger 24 Bora on our way home to Tacoma after two weeks in the islands. Of course, it was in punky weather and, again, after a long period of discomfort; this time sitting in the cockpit dodging the powerboat wakes. We pulled through the breakwater and into the refuge of the marina in Edmonds, appreciating the calm water and tying up. Our first objective was hot showers in the excellent facilities there and, walking the docks on our way back to Bora, we passed a small boat with a couple sitting in the dinette drinking wine and playing cards. It was the first time I noticed the practicality of the C-Dory cruiser, and that image stayed with me for the next several years.
At that time, we also owned a VW Vanagon camper that we loved taking out winter camping to places like Space 47 at Point Hudson RV Park (right on top of the marina breakwater), or down to Astoria, or any of the ocean beach camping areas normally crowded to capacity in the warm dry months. We could sit at our own little dinette inside watching the pouring rain with wine and cards of our own. We really liked the idea of the same thing only on the water, not to mention navigating from inside the pilothouse.
Nonetheless, we kept sailing and loving it. As our son Brandon grew into his 6-foot teenage size, the little 24-foot Bora kept getting smaller and smaller, so we moved up to our Cal 27 Moondance. That kept the comfort level reasonable and Moondance was a pleasure to sail. Still, I often found myself sitting at the helm in the rain, bundled up against the weather and dreaming of a dry cockpit. I frequently saw C-Dory boats and that dock vision from Edmonds always resurfaced with bright clarity.
Brandon outgrew sailing with Tekla and me and, when he flew from the nest, the boat became a slightly wistful and quiet place. We sailed a lot those next few years, sometimes using Moondance as a weekend getaway just to relax in the slip during the cold winter months. In time, we began feeling a little unsettled with sailing. Of course, we still loved being out on the water, but we had been everywhere within weekend distance a dozen times, plus I was becoming less enthusiastic about rigging work and hauling out again to paint the bottom. Maybe it was time to shift…
I took some nice pictures of Moondance and put out an exploratory ad and boom she was gone. You know that adage, “The two happiest days of boat ownership are the day you buy the boat and the day you sell the boat.” Not true! We both cried when we went to the docks to take all our stuff off for the new owner. What had I done? We were now boatless.
to the Cal 27 provided a more rewarding sailing experience.
To be honest, I had been looking at small powerboats when I decided to see if Moondance would sell, but I had not found anything that seemed right or reasonably affordable. Now, I felt panicked.
In the nine months that followed, we went to look at Bayliner Trophys and Cieras, Arima Sea Rangers, a SeaSport 24, and a few others. Every C-Dory that came up was either too new and expensive or sold the same day it came onto Craigslist. I missed out three separate times because I was the second or third one to call. Then one Thursday, I was doom-scrolling the boat pages and there was Sea Lab. This listing had the make spelled “Sea Dory” so it did not come up under a search for C-Dory, and thus it was still available when I called the seller in Oregon.
Kim, the owner, told me he had several inquiries in the first hours, but each had some amount of delay. I told him I could be there the next day, and he agreed to at least not sell to someone else until I had been there to look. I called Tekla at work to see if she could get Friday off and then went to the bank and took out a cashier’s check for the asking price, just in case it was the one.
That night I couldn’t sleep and lay awake wondering if I was acting rashly. I could not conclude that I wasn’t. It was 325 miles from our home to Roseburg, so we got up early and hit the road, hoping we had everything we needed to maybe pull the boat home. Kim called us twice while we were driving to make sure we were still coming, as he had a lot of response to his ad the previous evening. We finally arrived after what seemed like a terribly long drive and he met us in the driveway of his sprawling place and walked us down to the shed where the boat was. We were both pretty sure she was the one at first sight. Clean, stored inside, and not used for storage of junk overflowing from the house or garage.
We looked top to bottom and asked endless questions, and eventually made our full price offer. He accepted. Suddenly, we were the proud owners of our very own C-Dory. It turns out that Kim’s wife didn’t really like being out on the ocean—they had only taken the boat out at Bandon on the Oregon coast a few times and it was too rough for her. He had bought Sea Lab from an estate not realizing the cult-like following of C-Dory’s, and so was not too attached to the boat. We got lucky.
Tek and I loaded all the stuff that comes with an older boat and politely declined Kim’s generous offer to stay the night, which I’m sure would have been fun and interesting. We hitched up the trailer, nervously uncertain as to whether our little Tacoma truck could pull such a boat, and hit the road. By the time we got to Cottage Grove, Oregon, the lack of sleep and the exciting day caught up with us and we decided we better stop for the night. I don’t always sleep well in motels, but I did that night and, in the morning, we were excited to coffee-up and get Sea Lab home. The drive was just as long back as it was down there, and we were pleasantly surprised at how well our little truck did over the mountain passes with such a heavy load. We were also surprised at how much gas it took to pull her over those passes, but that is just part of the deal.
We made it with no problems and backed Sea Lab into our driveway. After unhitching, we went to our favorite brew pub to celebrate with dinner and an IPA. The next weeks were spent getting to know Sea Lab sitting on her trailer and figuring out what to do next, since neither of us had any experience with powerboats, but already the learning had been exciting and fun. We started to think about the range of new possibilities this shift would bring.
Since that day, we have both learned what seems like an entirely new (to us) way to enjoy our time on the water. We certainly miss some of the special times that are unique to sailing, but I enjoy the anticipation of something new with the promise of self-discovery even more. We’ve loved beginning some of our cruises beyond our homeport by trailering Sea Lab to unfamiliar boat launches and exploring more and farther than before. It’s the next phase of our boating experience, and it continues to offer new rewards and, indeed, comforts.
Maybe, when some of that prolonged discomfort returns, there will be yet another gear shift, or boat, in our future.
Dennis, Tekla, and Tim Tim the sailor dog recently changed their home cruising waters from Tacoma to Case Inlet.
