Fattycakes

My dream sailboat is a Westsail 32. They are extremely rugged, built to sail around the world. Westsails have an unfair reputation for being slow vessels. They're not necessarily slow, they're just very heavy and take a while to build up momentum. Westsails weren't built for day sails. They were built to cross oceans. They have a traditional look reminiscent of old sailing ships. I liked the whole 'round the world idea. I mean, you just never know.

Gorgeous pic of the Westsail Antares. Photo courtesy of Sail Magazine.
http://www.sailmagazine.com/great-lakes-solo

We looked at a few Westails for sale in various locations. San Diego, Seattle, Florida. None of them worked out. We still hadn't sold the powerboat so financing was tricky. The Westsails on the market in our price bracket needed way too much work. The ones in pristine condition were too expensive. I think Jon was nervous about owning a boat built to cross oceans. By now he knew me pretty well and probably figured it was only a matter of time before I started dropping hints about South America and Australia. 

I was still dreaming of Westails when our friend Mark came by our boat. "Hey. Jim's sailboat is for sale and he just lowered the price. It would be a great boat for you guys."

I knew the boat. It was anti-Westsail. It was an old beat-up looking racer. The yellow gelcoat had succumbed to oxidation and was chalky and in need of new paint. The windows were glazed over as if they suffered from a terrible case of cataracts. The non-skid tread on the decks had long ago turned smooth and very slippery.

It was anything but a gorgeous Westsail. It was a 1975 Morgan 36T, built with one purpose, which was to kick ass racing. But I liked Mark and the price was right, so we went over with him to check it out. 

We stepped aboard and I'm pretty sure I grimaced. The poor thing was so ugly from the outside. 

The sliding companionway hatch covered in old adhesive or whateverthefuck.

Cataract window oozing goop. Also, a tiny glimpse of some of the deck issues.

A close-up of the port side.

Okay, yeah. It needed some work. We went inside and it became clear why the outside looked like hell. All money and time had gone toward completely rebuilding the interior, turning the old racer's guts into a comfortable, cozy home. Jim had spent ten years rebuilding the cabin. He lived aboard the boat year round and tailored everything for comfort even in the worst of Boston winters. It had a diesel fireplace, propane stove, big batteries. Marina loses power for a week during a nor'easter? Who cares. We can still cook and be toasty warm. 

The interior was stunning. Gleaming teak-and-holly floor. Gorgeous cabinetry. A galley just perfect for me. A large v-berth for me and Jon, a quarter berth cozy for the kid. Plenty of storage. We'd be giving up some niceties, like a separate enclosed shower, but no matter. 

We were home. 

Her name was Shantih, given to her by a previous owner some decades back. The boat was quite the tank and very beamy. From the right angles she looked almost round. I gave her the nickname Fattycakes. It wouldn't be long before we'd change the name for good.

I didn't get my Westsail, but I got my Fattycakes. When I decided to write a novel about a girl who was preparing to sail around the world, I made her boat a Westsail and lived vicariously through my character. It's one of the things I love most about writing- making the world of the novel any way I want it. In the true-story of my life though, I'm glad we found Fattycakes. She was perfect.