Boatless

Posted 28 July 2008

For the first time in more than a dozen years, I’m boatless. Well, nearly so, as there’s still a couple of kayaks and dinghies.

Kestrel II in Ayala Cove

Two weeks ago I closed the sale of Kestrel II, a 30-foot Sea Ray cruiser built in 1979. I owned her for 9 years, and spent many happy days and nights aboard.

Some of the most memorable times were trips out the Farallon Islands; trying to keep up with the Queen Mary II as she came in the Golden Gate; a week in the Sacramento Delta with my family; several lovely evenings at Paradise Cove with my wife; many 4th of July fireworks shows; Fleet Week; Tall ship visits; and countless visits to Angel Island’s Ayala Cove.

Seals in Richardson Bay

Watching the flocks of pelicans and other birds was always a joy. Once we saw a whale off San Rafael. And there were many times we enjoyed the seals and sea lions on the buoys and floats around the bay, as well as their heads popping out of the water.

Deer in Ayala Cove, with Kestrel II in the background.

I took many thousands of photos from this boat, some of which you can see on my boating site, BoatingSF. I’m a sailor at heart, but one of the things I love about power boats is that they make much better sightseeing and photography platforms, at least within the context of San Francisco Bay.

Sunset at our Sausalito slip

There’s an old saying that the happiest day in a boat-owner’s life is the day he buys the boat, and the day he sells it. That may be true for many, but it wasn’t for me—I was sad to part with Kestrel II. I gave her up because owning a boat was just too expensive and too time-consuming a hobby while living on savings and building a new business.

Another factor was the unconscionable rate at which the boat guzzled gasoline. Not only was it awfully expensive at today’s gas prices, it started to feel irresponsible in these days of global warming.

The Irrational Love of Boats

I love boats. I can’t quite explain why. It has something to do with the freedom they offer, and the different view of the world they provide.

Tall Ship Pallada Visiting San Francisco

Many guests remarked how utterly different San Francisco seemed when viewed from the water. I often reflected on how much the water was an integral part of San Francisco’s life for centuries, yet it has become almost peripheral to most residents and visitors today.

Being on a boat puts you back in touch with the realities of San Francisco Bay, in a form that is largely unchanged (despite huge changes in the shoreline) since its settlement.

Boats do consume ungodly amounts of time and money. A complex mechanical contraption, bathed in salt water and salt air and constantly jiggled around, is a formula for endless repairs. For a long time, I enjoyed the never-ending projects, but I’m ready for a break. And it’s a much lower-stress undertaking when money is plentiful than when it’s tight.

Sunset at the Golden Gate

I replaced nearly all the guts of this boat, bit by bit, even including the engines. Replacing the engines cost as much as a nice car—and more than I sold the entire boat for. One of the troubling things about boats is that most of the money you put in to them you can never get out.

Yet there is something just wonderful about boats. They can be things of beauty (though this boat wasn’t), retreats, projects, and traveling machines. The variety of them is endless, and it’s fascinating all the different tradeoffs made by various designers and owners.

The stunning Lynx

If you want to see just how far a boating passion can be taken, pick up a copy of Mine’s Bigger, the story of Tom Perkins’s creation of the Maltese Falcon, the world’s largest private sailboat.

What’s Next?

For a while, I’ll enjoy my kayaks and the occasional rented boat. But there will, I’m sure, be another boat in my future. Maybe a catamaran based in the Caribbean, if my current startup is as successful as I hope it will be…