Compass Lost
Adventures at sea
August 31, 2016
“You do not ask a tame seagull why it needs to disappear from time to time toward the open sea. It goes, that’s all.”
— Bernard Moitessier
Cal 35
A few years ago we bought a Cal 35 sailboat, built in 1984. After years in the Midwest, we’d converged on the idea during our foray to New York. Our logic was …
- We love the water
- We yearn for adventure
- We don’t need much to be comfortable
- We enjoy working in a vibrant city, but need to escape
- We find portable homes practical
We’d both grown up with boats and they figured prominently in our hobbies and careers. The idea of making boats a bigger fixture in our lives had occurred at multiple intervals, but hadn’t become practical until our move to New England.
When we found her, we’d freshly departed New York and were exploring the coast in a tricked-out camper van—19’ of boondocking versatility (post to follow). We Goldilocksed for a community that was “just right” and scouted dozens of marinas for a suitable boat.
The Cal35 was lying on a mooring in the Merrimack river. She was well cared for, had all the liveable amenities, and sailed with the bit in her teeth. As we established ourselves in New England she afforded everything we needed, with comfort and efficiency. So we sailed her to Boston Harbor to start new jobs.
Coastal Nomads
Boating is not simply a matter of life and death, it’s more important than that.
— Plaque in the galley
We’ve cruised our Cal35 from Long Island Sound to Casco Bay, and most places in between. Regular mid-week overnights in the Harbor Islands have been just the ticket. We, plus dogs, surveyed whales and birds from her gunwales. And, importantly, we established a balance between work and play.
A skim of the history books hints at New England’s storied relationship with the coastal dweller and mariner. The shell middens of the first nations, cryptic viking runes, and legends of the Pilgrims live on amongst the islands and waterways. Now, one can weigh anchor within a hundred miles of Boston, drop off your sails at the loft for laundering and make your 8am meeting in Boston on the T.
Post-Cal35
We recently decided it was time to sell our Cal35. Why sell the perfect boat? There are a few things she just can’t be:
- Metal - we’re northerners who pine for the fjords
- Bigger - not by much, guest cabin for visitors please
- Sheltered - a dog or pilot house for the Nor’easters
That’s pretty much it. Alas, 1 and 2 are unrequited asks from a 35’ fiberglass (GRP) hull. In spite of compromises, these became sticking points.
Throw in a couple more likes:
- Shallow - swing or lifting keel
- Self sufficient - tankage and power for sustenance
So, it turns out most boats that meet these specs are European or built in someone’s backyard. While fiberglass is tremendously versatile and has been good to us—our Cal35 will probably be going strong, long after we’re gone—it constrains our ambitions to consult the high latitudes.
That is where we’d like to be — in the Far North or the South Sea.
