I love my boat. I’m in love with this lifestyle. Tearing everything apart during the day, putting it back together every night and she’s a home again. It’ll be even better when we’re floating. Everyone thinks I’m the crazy American girl living on her boat. Lots of people stay on their boats here in the boatyard and the marina, but I’m the only one actually living aboard. I walk around saying “bounjour” to people I don’t know, and wear a little red scarf around my neck to show what a Francophile I am.
This morning I woke up to a knock on the hull from the waitress at the little cafe on site with a pack of cigarettes for me! “Yellow cigarettes for the yellow boat,” she said. We chatted on the boat for a bit and then she took me for a real tour of this one pony town. She’s originally from Seattle and we had a lot to talk about like the Pacific Northwest, our taste for dating older men, and traveling. She paid for lunch and when I tried to give her money she said “welcome to North Country.”
The tour wouldn’t be complete without a stop at the Weather Cock, the local watering hole. While there I told sea stories and basically won all the local’s over, once we got one question squared away. One of the guys asked it, after I told them my plans for the boat, but everyone was thinking it.
“So, what are you a trust fund kid or something?”
My new friend chimed in. “She bought her boat with the tips she made waitressing.”
She filled me in on all the gossip around the marina. Like how everyone thought my crew member, Gina, and I were lesbians, and how it was just assumed I was French Canadian because of my style. Both I took as compliments.
When we got back I invited her and her boyfriend for dinner onboard one night in the yard, and definitely a sail once I’m launched. Before leaving she told me how cool she thought it was that I have the self motivation and confidence to buy my own old sailboat, fix it up and go sailing. It was nice to hear from one of my peers.
My confidence and motivation comes in waves, but today was a good day. I finally figured out the roller furler, prepped for my chainplate repair, and got my new ground tackle all set up. While doing so, my boat neighbor, Claude, came over with a shackle that he insisted I keep, “just in case.”
Baaahahahahaha, trust fund, yes in Emily we trust. Funny I was looking at the pictures of your jib and the furller and wondering how that all came together.. My 22 the jib was hanked on, and the 25 was a roller furling, that fought you at every turn. (Have I mentioned lately that I never felt safe with that rig, and the next owner lost the rig in a small squall.) Anyway, blah, blah, blah, Boat looks really great, you guys look great, stories sound great, and she’s still on jack stands. Be safe, and remember, in a pinch, I can be there in an 8 hour motorcycle ride, with a change of clothes, various credit cards, and a bad attitude. Think of me as your rather large, possibly embarrassing alternative emotional Seatow. Thrilled for you, stay safe.