A Sophisticated Irrational Decision

Sophisticated, A Irrational Decision

by Mark Bath

You never know when a chance conversation is going to change your life. I was in Belize on my post-divorce 59th birthday trip when I met a guy who explained that he avoided island fever by living on his boat and picking up and moving when he got tired of a place. He said there was always a festival somewhere, and I was hooked. I didn’t really have a boating background other than a love of Jimmy Buffet music, but it sounded so good I came home to San Diego determined to adopt the liveaboard lifestyle.

I started the journey with sailing lessons. I took a small boat course and then American Sailing Association’s 101 and 102 courses from a local charter company. I started sailing with meetup groups and sailed with an older guy who would sail us through the mooring field, pointing out unloved boats to buy. I was on a shoestring budget, having been laid off only two months before, and had resigned myself to not being able to afford a boat more than 30 feet. One day my friend called me up and said there was a boat on Craigslist that I had to buy, a 1969 Columbia

36. We went to look at it the next evening, and I made an offer the following day. One of my friends called it a sophisticated irrational decision, and I couldn’t really argue.

The boat was rough when it was purchased in April of 2015. Ninkasi had been just sitting at her mooring next to the airport for years and was coated with airplane dust. The batteries were dead, and the interior, which was pretty much original, needed a lot of work. She had been re-powered with a Universal diesel engine which I thought was new but later found out was used. On the plus side, there was new standing rigging and a start at deck paint.

By this time, I was burning through savings, so I decided to move aboard. I spent my last two months at the apartment giving Ninkasi a thorough scrubbing, cleaning out the water tanks, and installing a new water pump, new batteries, a solar system, and a propane camp stove to go with the ice box. I did temporary security work and refereed kids’ soccer to make ends meet, buy the necessities for the boat and cover those expenses that inevitably crop up on a boat. For example, a couple of weeks after moving aboard, I was getting ready for the July 4th celebration, where I had a front-row seat on the water, when my holding tank burst! That’s not an issue I would wish on anyone, but a frantic drive up the coast to Los Angeles to a tank manufacturer who made one to spec, and I was back in business. I also purchased new dock lines and fenders and a used dinghy as the previous owner wanted their canoe back and I was set.

Living aboard while working the boat was a lot like camping. I was working on one part while living in another. The move was also a continuous experience of downsizing. After my divorce, I downsized from the big house to an apartment, and moving aboard meant another round of downsizing and many, many trips to Goodwill. There were some things that I just couldn’t bear to part with, and I had to rent a small storage space to keep family heirlooms like my great grandfathers rocking chair until my kids were settled enough to take them.

My next project was finishing painting the decks which turned out to be a lot of work as it required stripping all the hardware off. Then I painted the interior, which made a huge livability improvement, but nothing made as much difference as cutting out the icebox and installing a refrigerator. After the paint and the refrigerator, it was time for a new two-burner stove and a formal propane system with safety valves and sensors. Of course, I also had to upgrade the solar system to keep the fridge running. I also replaced the head after some not-so-subtle suggestions from my girlfriend, and I have to admit it was a boost to livability.

I eventually found a new job, so some niceties were in order, all the while keeping a gym membership at the nearby Sheraton for showers and the occasional getaway. Ninkasi got all new wiring and led lights and a new switch panel. I’m an electronics technician by trade and grew up on a cattle ranch, so I was able to do all the work myself. I also installed all new port lights to replace the leaky originals and spent five months removing and varnishing all interior wood.

Of course, after shelling out the big bucks for sails, the next day, the diesel engine crapped out. The water pump was shot, and it was at the height of the pandemic. That meant I couldn’t find a mechanic to address the problem. By the time I got someone out, the engine had rusted and was trash. I had to re-power the boat and decided to go with a QuietTorque 10.0 Sail Drive from Electric Yacht powered by eight six-volt gel cell batteries that I typically recharge with 800 watts of solar panels. I’ve been happy with the performance of the sail drive. Range depends on how fast you want to go, but if I run the little 2kw generator and keep the speed down to 2-3 knots, it’s virtually unlimited. The installation was super easy, and after removing the diesel, the sail drive and batteries took up almost no space. I’ve turned part of the engine compartment into tool storage, and eventually, I’ll remove the diesel tanks and turn that space into storage as well. A couple of years ago, I installed new cockpit cushions that made the outside much more comfortable. My current project of replacing salon cushions is in process.

Looking back, I don’t know that I would do anything differently. Some of my early investments would have been more cost-effective if I’d waited until I could afford better quality, but those things improved my quality of life, so I don’t regret going ahead with them. If you’re thinking about buying an older boat and fixing it up, I’d say it pays to be handy, but you can learn anything from youtube, and you’ve just gotta try. I calculated the other day that I’ve put $25k into a $7k boat with a big chunk of that going toward the sail drive, and that doesn’t include all the sweat equity I’ve put in. I’m moored in San Diego Bay, and I love being in downtown San Diego where I can walk to restaurants and pubs. I spend a couple of days a week with my girlfriend since I met someone who didn’t read “live on my boat” as “essentially homeless,” as my voter registration says. If you ask me, 32 thousand for a million-dollar location is a major bargain. I’m looking at retirement at the end of the year; who knows — maybe Mexico?