A student restores an old steel boat and embarks on a seafaring journey.
My dad bought a sailboat when I was young, and we learned to sail together. Those years of experience taught me a lot about boats. At the time of this writing, I’ve almost finished restoring a 1974 Dutch Seahawk 31 ocean cruiser, with the goal of taking a long-distance trip — something I’ve always wanted to do.
This process has taught me a lot, but one of the most important lessons I’ve learned is that things don’t always go as planned.
Originally, I had a very different trip in mind from the one I’m on now. The idea hatched last winter break when I was accepted into a Colgate-led study abroad program in Trinidad. My dad — knowing my lifelong dream — suggested, “the following summer, you could sail home.”
Although I know a lot about sailing, I’d never learned about all of the other things that are important when you’re doing a long-term trip. I thought, “If I’m going to be by myself 1,000 miles from home, I should know how to fix my lights, plumbing, and engine.” I figured the best way to learn would be to buy a fixer-upper boat and spend the summer working on it.
Once finished, I was either going to have a friend bring it down to Trinidad and Tobago or have it sent down with a paid captain, so that I could take it back up after the abroad program.
That was the plan before COVID-19 was a factor.
When campus closed during the spring 2020 semester, I came home to Washington, D.C. This seemed like a good opportunity to jump-start my plan a few months early, so I began looking at classifieds and driving around marinas to look for a good boat — something in the 30- to 40-foot range, with stability but not too slow, and generally seaworthy.
Through odd circumstances, I ended up finding the boat that I would later name Little Wing.
My family was selling our farmhouse in southern Maryland, and the buyer wanted to know if the tractor was included in the sale. My dad said, “We can make a trade. Do you have a boat?” Surprisingly, the buyer did, and it happened to be the size I was looking for.
The previous owner had bought the boat about 20 years prior, lived on it for five years, and then put it up on land. Neglecting it for 15 years, he had locked the cabin and lost the key. During the buying process, I saw the outside, but we had to close the contract before we could see the inside of the boat. I thought, “I’m probably not going to get another opportunity for (what is to me) a free boat, so let’s do it.”
One of the quirky things about the boat is that it is steel — which is rare. I know a decent amount about wooden boats. I know a decent amount about fiberglass boats. But, before getting Little Wing, I’d never done anything with steel sailboats. I probably would have been more terrified of the project if I knew more about what I was getting into.
I started working on it in April, with my dad’s help. In the beginning, the work was mainly scrubbing and power washing. It had a lot of pine needles and old moldy gear to get rid of. I made long lists, going through every corner and noting things that needed a lot of attention. Then I decided the best order to tackle those things.
One of the most challenging parts was replacing the original 1974 diesel engine, which was rusted from the inside. It weighed about 500 pounds, so my dad and I devised our own crane system to lift it out of the boat and swing it over the side. That was a nail-biter. When the new one came in, it was half the weight, but we still had to use the crane to lower it down, align it, and attach it properly. This was in July, with temperatures around 100 degrees. I slid into the very small space behind the engine, and after 10 hours, we finally got it aligned. But, looking at it, we realized something was very wrong. Although we had ordered the correct transmission, the wrong one was delivered; so we had to do the whole thing again with the right transmission.
Because the boat is steel, every square inch had to be painted to protect it from rust. Over the course of several months, I sanded all the paint and repainted it below the waterline, above the waterline, on the decks, and in all the storage compartments inside. Boat paints are super toxic, so I had to wear a gas mask and a full body suit. Hopefully, the boat’s going to now stay painted for at least 10 years.
My dad hadn’t had experience with steel boats either, so we’ve had to do research along the way. There are forums of sailors online that have answers to questions about anything and everything. I also spent a lot of time on the phone with distributors and wandering around marina shops to ask questions. But if we ran into a problem, a lot of figuring things out just came down to sitting on it for a while. That’s part of why it took so long; we had to find some creative solutions.
When study abroad trips were canceled, I decided to take a leave of absence and keep working on the boat. This has been my most consuming activity since April. In the peak of July, when there was a lot of daylight, my dad and I would wake up at 4 a.m. and work until 10 p.m. It hasn’t all involved hard manual labor — a lot of it is going to the hardware store five times a day or going to Bed Bath & Beyond to find a way to organize my kitchen.
We were finally ready to put the boat in the water for the first time at the end of July. I was so paranoid. “Anything could go wrong,” I thought. “After months of work, the boat might just sink at the dock, and I’d be devastated.” Beforehand, I went through to double-check everything — including the valves, to make sure they were closed. The boat was lowered into the water, and when I got on, I saw a fire hose of water rushing from the forward cabin and there was water over the floorboards. I ran outside and yelled for them to pick the boat up again. Taking a closer look at one of the valves, I realized the handle was on backward. So every time I had checked to make sure it was closed, it was actually open.
In addition to study abroad programs being canceled, my plan to travel to Trinidad and Tobago became complicated because of the restrictions regarding quarantining and the cost of testing in every country I’d have to pass through along the way. My backup plan is the Florida Keys. I’ll be taking the Atlantic Intracoastal Waterway to Florida, which allows me to travel more than 1,000 miles down the coast without entering the ocean. The entire one-way trip will probably take me two or three months.
If things work out, I’ll have a few months to sail around before heading back in time to avoid hurricane season and start my senior year at Colgate.
I’m really excited to go to places I haven’t been before, and to be in charge of my own boat. It’s exciting that this boat is mine; if I make a mistake, it’s my fault — or if it’s successful, it’s also on me.