When we moved to Seattle two years ago, we left our boat behind. The Lutra was a perfect boat for gunkholing in the Chesapeake, but because she had a flat bottom with little keel, we were concerned that she would not handle well in the wilder waters of the Puget Sound. So we decided to sell her, and left her in the barn on our farm in Maryland.
They say that the two best days of one’s life are the day you buy a boat and the day you sell it. We had trouble even getting on board with the sale part of the equation. First the economy tanked and boats became a luxury. We had an airline pilot make us an offer and then pull out because he was afraid that he was going to lose his job. Then another guy offered us $25,000 for the boat and I turned him down – I was insulted by the offer. A year passed with no serious offers. Then another offer appeared for $21,000. Nancy pointed out to me that if we had accepted the earlier offer of $25,000, we would have put the money into our savings, and by now it would have been worth less than $20,000, so that we were actually ahead of the game! I liked that logic. In any case, the guy really wanted the boat, and gave us $1,000 non-refundable deposit to hold the boat. Then 2 days before he was supposed to come and get it, he emailed me and said that he had fallen in love with a lady in Alaska, and that since he was moving there and the boat wasn’t right for the Alaskan waters, he was going to have to back out.
We were beginning to feel like that boat was going to be with us forever. I suggested to Nancy that perhaps I could be buried in the Lutra, in some sort of Neo-Viking ritual. She was unimpressed, as she often is with many of my wilder solutions.
Anyway, last week we were in Maryland, and went out to the farm to check on the boat. She was a little dusty, but looked great. And we got to talking. We came to the realization (sometimes for smart people, we can be fairly dense) that it might make sense to ship to boat to Seattle. After all it was a great boat for Lake Washington if not out on the sound. We checked and the shipping costs weren’t exorbitant. And somebody might see it and buy it from us. And we would be back on the water – an itch that nothing but a boat can satisfy. So it looked like we had a plan.
That same trip to Maryland, I went out on the Bay with our friends John and Ellyn. They have a nice 25 foot bowrider. But as we were cruising, I had an epiphany: I don’t like fiberglass boats. They are devoid of character, and all come (literally) from the same mold. My next boat was going to be wooden.
Last year we had seen a small steamboat on Lake Washington – it was maybe 15 feet and looked like the boat in the African Queen. I thought wouldn’t it be cool to own that boat. So I googled “Seattle Steam Boat for sale”. The little steam boat didn’t come up, but there was a 60 foot World War II boat available on Ebay. I was excited until I read a little further and realized that it was a total restoration project at best. The ad noted that they hoped to sell all the parts in one lot – I knew that this would be a lifetime project, so I passed. Anyway, Nancy would never go for a 60 foot boat.
But while I was searching for steamboats, I noticed that the Seattle Center for Wooden Boats was having their annual festival the coming weekend, so I mentioned to Nan, in all innocence, that it would be fun to go. Her mother was going to be in town, and I thought they might enjoy taking photographs of some of the classics at the show.
We went to the show early Saturday morning. Sure enough the little “African Queen” boat was there – it is actually named the Alien Queen. Alas, it was not for sale, but it was nice to see it.
There were lots of classic wooden boats on the piers, and some of them were for sale. The fourth boat we came across was the Edimir.
She was built in 1939. She has been extensively restored in the past 10 years. The last owners had put 70 to $80,000 in her – new planking, new diesel (it only has 678 hours), new cabin, radar, GPS chart plotter, refrigerator, stove, tanks, and on and on. She sleeps 4 people – 2 in the forward v-berth, and 2 in the main cabin. She has her own 9 foot sailing dingy. And did you notice – she looks a lot like the Lutra. Except that she has a deep keel, so she is suited to cruising in the inland waters in Puget Sound and the San Juans. The current owner was selling her because they had moved up to a Nordic Tug for more room. And as we had already learned, it is a terrible time to sell a boat, but a fantastic time to be buying – so the price was very reasonable.
I spent a half hour poring over the boat, talking to Steve Hansen, the listing agent who had brought the boat to the show, and salivating over all the amenities. I told Steve that I really wanted the boat, but I was going to have to convince Nancy – after all we still had the Lutra on the East Coast.
I caught up with Nan and her mother down the dock. Nancy could tell that I was in love from my glassy looking eyes and silly grin, but bless her; she wasn’t even jealous. She reminded me that we really needed to sell the Lutra first, since we didn’t need 2 boats. (Does anyone really need a boat)? We both agreed that this boat was perfect for us and Seattle. Nancy’s mother said that as soon as she saw me sitting at the wheel of the Edimir, she knew it was a perfect match. In addition, the boat came with the option of taking over the covered slip in Ballard, about 10 minutes from the house. The planets were aligning – this was looking like a great day to buy a boat. Nancy said that the Lutra had really been her choice – she had seen it at a show in Baltimore, and was smitten—and allowed as how the next boat choice should be mine. After a few minutes of discussion, we decided we should make an offer, so that no one would buy the boat out from under us.
I went back to the boat and told Steve that we were ready to make an offer. He said, “it didn’t take you long to convince your wife.” I told him that sometimes you get lucky. We made an offer, it was accepted, and we are now the proud owners of a 30 foot classic wooden trawler. Edimir was a family name from the prior owner – he has already changed the name and thus gotten the bad luck associated with a name change: We will call the boat the Guillemot. Look for us on the water.
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