We’re buying a boat

From the big Yes to endless plans – and the first shock

Mave

IIs it unreasonable to buy the first boat you ever looked at? Maybe. Did we do it anyway? Absolutely! So now we were the proud owners of Mave.

But why, one might ask – especially since I had just explained in detail in the last article everything that wasn’t quite what we had originally wanted in a boat.

The deciding factors were probably the amount of space this boat offers and the seemingly endless possibilities it opened up for us. Sure, we probably wouldn’t be particularly fast or sporty with her (or so I thought back then), and a wooden hull covered in fiberglass comes with a few risks – but in return, there’s probably no cruising ground this boat can’t handle. And I can carry enough tools on board to continue working as a yacht electrician while underway. And let’s be honest: a boat without any tech might put some people off – but for us (or probably more for me), it was exciting. The chance to start from scratch and build an electrical system exactly the way I believe it should be done was something that really appealed to me.

But maybe the most important reason was our gut feeling. We stood there on board and thought: This is it! Not the boat we were looking for – but probably exactly the boat we needed. And don’t they say: A boat finds its owners, not the other way around? – Maybe there’s something to that.

A place for our new home

The plan was as follows: wait until the weather warmed up a bit again – it was just the beginning of January. Then bring the boat up to our home on the Baltic Sea, haul it out of the water, spend the summer working on it, and then launch it again in time for winter and move aboard. A good and achievable plan, or so we thought back then.

The weeks until the transfer went by quickly. We spent the time dreaming up big ideas, clearing out the boat, getting it ready for the trip – and tackling the arguably most important task: finding a berth where we’d be allowed not only to moor but also to live aboard starting that fall. That, however, turned out to be harder than expected.

You might think that, given the serious berth shortage on the Baltic Sea at the time (early 2023), I – someone who works in marinas every day – would’ve been aware of that. But somehow, I managed to completely block it out.

So Laura spent several weeks researching marinas, writing emails, making phone calls – and collecting rejection after rejection. That task, it turned out, wouldn’t be wrapped up anytime soon.

Bringing her home

But first, the delivery trip was coming up. We had picked Easter as our timeframe and gave ourselves a few extra days—more than strictly necessary for that route—just to squeeze in a few sailing days before the boat would spend the summer on land. Joining us: a good friend of mine.

So the three of us set off from Rendsburg, through the Kiel Canal, and toward the Baltic Sea.The first time driving our own boat – a magical moment, and an immediate realization:We hadn’t bought a boat. We’d bought a ship.

I’ve driven quite a few boats before, but this one… this one is different.A 13-ton long-keel vessel requires a whole different level of care in maneuvers than I was used to. But it feels amazing. And so, under engine and with big grins on our faces, we headed for the Baltic.

After the lock, my friend insisted we hoist a headsail for the final stretch – and so we did.And just like that, we had officially sailed our own boat for the first time.Even if it was only for a mile.

Once we reached the marina, the next realization hit:Our boat is actually 42 feet long – definitely longer than any boat I’ve sailed before.And since I hadn’t quite wrapped my head around that yet, I picked our berth based on the size of a Bavaria 36. Oops.Still, it all worked out. The marina was nearly empty anyway. Only the harbourmaster seemed briefly confused as to why we insisted on mooring at a berth that was clearly too short.

The next morning, we went sailing for real. With a reefed main, jib, and staysail, we set off toward Ærø.It was Easter – still pretty chilly outside – which meant that the crew slowly started to appreciate our previously unloved dodger.And I, on the other hand, immediately saw the boat’s potential for colder cruising grounds.I was dreaming of icebergs drifting past the hull, of a snow-covered deck.Yeah… let’s just say: staying in the moment isn’t exactly my strong suit.

Another feeling quickly settled in for all of us that day: Safety. Even without much technical equipment (the depth and speed readings were hilariously off; only my hastily soldered NMEA 0183 Wi-Fi gateway reliably fed the AIS data to our tablet), the boat itself gave off a strong sense of “You’re safe here.” The way it rose and fell in the waves, the silence down below – no creaking, no squeaking – and the solid stainless-steel guardrail surrounding the deck…It all added up to a feeling of real confidence: This boat will take care of you.And since I didn’t expect to feel that way on a delivery trip aboard a mostly unfamiliar and only modestly equipped vessel, it made me incredibly happy.

What followed were days and nights under sail or at anchor, dinghy trips to shore, and all in all a truly wonderful maiden voyage – one that left not a single doubt in our minds that buying this boat was the right decision.

The Calm Before It All Begins

After that, things somehow started to slow down.Our plan had actually been to get the boat out of the water as quickly as possible so we’d have the whole summer to work on our refit plans.But the marina had other ideas and scheduled our haul-out for June.So Mave stayed in the city harbor for the time being – and, well… we ended up enjoying life on board a bit too much to feel any real motivation to start tearing the interior apart.

Nearly two months passed like that. I was more or less already living on the boat, only showing my face at the apartment when absolutely necessary.A really lovely time – just not one marked by a whole lot of progress.

Finally Ashore

Things really started moving once Mave was finally on dry land.I had done my best not to take on any work over the summer so I could dedicate all my time to the boat. Laura planned to help out in the evenings and on weekends.

So we began by gutting the galley – one of the jobs we definitely wanted finished before moving aboard – and converting the starboard aft cabin from a pipe berth into a proper tech room.After all, all my technical toys need a home too.

My plan to tone down my perfectionism this time?Yeah… I probably threw that overboard the moment I decided to sand and paint the entire galley – outer wall and cabinets included – now that it was already torn apart.Meanwhile, I spent the occasional hour stripping off the old layers of antifouling from the hull – a job entirely devoid of joy.

And so it happened that, on a warm June afternoon, while I was once again scraping away layers of paint, our entire project suddenly took an unfortunate turn.