A poor and passionate man’s tale
Story and photos by Alex Duff
For those of us unlucky enough to haul our boats into one of those dusty, shoddy, or overly polished boatyards — or optimistic enough to buy a boat that’s already been marinating in one — we all share one universal goal: Get the boat back in the water as fast as possible.
When planning a refit, sometimes it’s crucial to be more passionate than petty. Practicality tends to go straight out the portlight once you’re scrambling to cobble together a plan for escape. And if you can’t stay enthusiastic about that one shining end goal — GET OUT!!! — you might stall long before launch day. A misstep in the yard, especially for the poor but passionate among us, can be costly and wildly disheartening. Every yard has its fleet of abandoned projects whose captains simply buckled under the weight of reality.
So, go in prepared. Make a list. Think it through. Play the imaginary game Boatyard Bum Simulator in your mind long before your keel touches dry land. Source your parts. Make sure you actually have them. Gather your tools and materials. Brace yourself for lack of sleep, chronic dehydration, an alarming surplus of dirty clothes, and the questionable hygiene standards that seem to be a yard-wide tradition. If someone’s wearing clean clothes, they’re probably the kind who can afford contractors. Many, including myself, are not usually in that category.
Anyone planning a successful haulout will face a few inevitable questions:
- Will I meet my timeline?
- Are my goals realistic?
- Is there a decent bar within walking distance to drown my sorrows?
And of course:
- Where the heck is the ladder?!
That last one was my own personal torment on the most recent haulout — and one I’ve faced again and again thanks to chronic mis preparation. If you don’t own and store your own ladder aboard, good luck finding a free one in the yard. I’ve donated more ladders to the boatyard gods than I care to admit, hoping for a little karmic return each time. But when I’ve failed to bring one, the issue has a way of — quite literally — grounding you.
During this last round of boatyard games (new shaft seal, bottom paint, cutless bearing — the usual), I found myself perched aboard my vessel Fairweather, my 1979 Durbeck 46, twelve feet off the ground, staring down at an empty space where my borrowed ladder once stood. It had been moved, stolen, relocated, or absorbed into the boatyard vortex — several times — while I was busy doing hot boat yoga upside down in the engine room.
After rappelling down my hull with a dock line twice, I learned to chain my new-found ladder to the boat. That solution lasted until an angry knock on the hull revealed the rightful owner demanding it back. After a tense exchange and my humble explanation, I was, once again, ladderless. My final resort was a pyramid of boatyard blocks paired with my swim ladder — an athletic and questionably safe method I used for several days while watching paint dry and unintentionally breaking things I probably wasn’t qualified to disassemble.
Anyone foolish enough to own a boat knows that lessons can be expensive — especially in the yard. I’ve maxed out credit cards, bank loans, and my wife’s patience more times than I’d like to count. But one of the first lessons worth learning is simply this: Don’t give up.
“Get the boat back in the water as fast as possible.”
If you don’t get that boat out of the yard quickly, you’ll have problems far larger than finding a ladder or waiting on the metal shop to finish your flange-a-majig so you can hook up your whirlamadoodle.
Thankfully, with YouTube, internet forums, and image-search tools, it’s usually possible to track down the how-to, the diagram, or the obscure part number you need. Ideally, you’ve made a plan for the work before hauling out — but as we all know, the unexpected always shows up the moment the hull dries. As Mike Tyson once said, there’s always a plan until someone gets punched in the mouth. That’s why it’s up to us, the boat owners, to adapt, troubleshoot, and, when necessary, hire a professional — while being sure to watch and learn from them.
Don’t go bottoms-up in the boatyard. Don’t get discouraged. Keep the passion alive so you can get back to sailing. Plenty of boat owners have more money than sense, but for those of us with less sense than money, it takes dedication — and often trial and error — to get it right. Meet your yard neighbors; the grizzled ones with paint in their hair and a thousand-yard stare. They’re usually full of wisdom, cautionary tales, and creative solutions that may or may not be OSHA-approved. Whatever issue you’re facing has already been solved — probably many times — by someone else cursing in a dusty corner of some other yard.
When you’re hauled out, fix only what truly needs doing. Make sure your plan and budget match your ambition before committing to the lift. You will absolutely discover new issues once the boat is dry, but it’s up to you to knock them out quickly and efficiently. Boatyards can drain the soul, but the day you launch, the moment you feel the boat float free again, much of what you lost comes rushing back.
(Your bank account excluded.)
To sum it up: Get in, get out, and sail on.
