The Sailboat that Found Us: Clueless

It started out innocently enough. Little did we know we would soon be like deer in headlights navigating ourselves from a 16-foot sailboat to a 30-foot cruiser. While browsing Facebook, we noticed a post by a friend announcing he was moving to Costa Rica and wanted a 'good home' for his sailboat.

Michael quipped, "It would look good at our dock". And that’s exactly what he posted to our friend.

Huh? The posting disappeared. "Ummm...What does that mean?" We looked at each other. "Guess we need to take quick trip downriver to visit our friend and wish him well on his great adventure," we said.

As we walked along the dock to our friend's home, he greeted us in his usual, warm, gregarious style. "I'm getting married!" We were overjoyed for him.

“I’m so glad you’re getting Tico Time,” he gushed. “You live on the water, you sail, and there’s just no one else I wanted to see her go home with!”

Our suspicions were correct. He thought we wanted his boat.

I’m a member of the Oregon Women’s Sailing Association (OWSA) and enjoy the wonder of venturing out on the Columbia River with other women sailors. I am all too happy to share my adventures on Facebook. There’s no disguising the joy I feel when the sails fill. I enjoy time with others while learning to tack and jibe on the River. I can't hide the delight found in the sound of the water rushing by, the rolling of the boat as it heels, the teamwork, the majestic beauty of the river and the mountains, the camaraderie on the water.

Sailboats are soulful. Skippers care about the afterlife of their craft. Sailors not only pitch in plenty of pesos, but invest part of their own soul when cruising and learning the unique personalities of each windblown vessel. Our friend chose us to be the next keepers.

“We’re not in the market for a sailboat,” we argued.

“She’s yours,” he urged, “just tell me what I need to do make it work for you.”

He named his price. We resisted while dreaming of the possibilities. We were so transparent.

Since I was 13, my vision was to one day own a little Alcoa Sunfish, which was not much more than a sailboard. When a neighbor in our moorage began to look for a new home for his Newport 16, we went to just look. Mis Sueños, as I named her, translated from Spanish to English as My Dreams. She came to live with us. I was thrilled a boat beyond my imagination found a new home in front of our house.

It was then I realized the essence of the owner lingers on. Our neighbor owned her for over forty years. He reminisced about their adventures together. I could see the ache in his heart as he parted with her. He was also happy she would now moor with us.

Yes, sailors care about the hereafter of their boats.