10 a.m. Sunday morning the call came in. The boat is on the rocks. It took us awhile to find it, because it wasn’t where we expected it to be, given the wind direction. She was down, about two hours before an extreme high tide, with a 35 knot northeasterly blowing her further in among the rocks. Unable to reach her from the beach, a lee shore, we dashed off to arrange for a boat, to collect dive gear, to make a plan. I was in such a tither that I didn’t think to take a photo, but I now dearly wish I had, so we knew exactly where she lay when the call first came in and the tide was still rising.
11:30, the diver was underway, high tide due at 12:08. We were waiting for him to come by to get the crew when the harbormaster called again. It’s too late, she’s breaking up. We were stunned, and piled back into the car to dash off again, back to the beach. This is what we found:
Cancel the diver. Wait for low tide. Take it all in and try to fathom that a well cared for boat, a 40’ Alden ketch built in 1931, which had the same loving owner for the last 23 years, was no more.
Said she, upon viewing the remains: ‘Well, I guess now we don’t have to fix that leak in the stern.’
We spent the remainder of the day carting all we could above the tide line, separated into two separate piles, ‘salvage’, and ‘bonfire.’ When all the loose bits were picked up, the axes and chainsaw were put to use. Not an easy moment for a loving boat owner.
By the end of day two, this is all that was left:
That's the owner in the water. Those sticky up bits beside him are the remains of the keel.
11:30, the diver was underway, high tide due at 12:08. We were waiting for him to come by to get the crew when the harbormaster called again. It’s too late, she’s breaking up. We were stunned, and piled back into the car to dash off again, back to the beach. This is what we found:
Cancel the diver. Wait for low tide. Take it all in and try to fathom that a well cared for boat, a 40’ Alden ketch built in 1931, which had the same loving owner for the last 23 years, was no more.
Said she, upon viewing the remains: ‘Well, I guess now we don’t have to fix that leak in the stern.’
We spent the remainder of the day carting all we could above the tide line, separated into two separate piles, ‘salvage’, and ‘bonfire.’ When all the loose bits were picked up, the axes and chainsaw were put to use. Not an easy moment for a loving boat owner.
By the end of day two, this is all that was left:
That's the owner in the water. Those sticky up bits beside him are the remains of the keel.
By the end of day three, even the engine had been salvaged from the keel and dragged ashore, where we helped lift it into the bed of a truck.
By the end of the day tomorrow, there will be nothing left on the beach but the intact, undamaged masts. Arrangements are being made to float them around to be lifted out using the shipyard crane. The boat came ashore in front of some very large, very pristine homes, with perfectly manicured lawns that come right down to the beach, far from the main road. Getting in heavy equipment was not really an option. Everything that was accomplished so quickly and efficiently was done using a group of determined people, a few large pickup trucks and a trailer. Ideas of how to remove the keel, which is still underwater, and contains nearly 10,000 pounds of lead, are still being bandied about. I am in favor of running an ad in the back of Wooden Boat magazine that reads, ‘free lead, you pick up.’
Any other ideas are welcomed.
While we understand that there will be a period of mourning, we stand by to welcome the owner of Safari into the boatless club, when he is ready. Instead of spending long winter evenings contemplating the upgrades and repairs to be done to his boat come spring, he can join us in those long internet trolling sessions, seeking out the next perfect boat!
By the end of the day tomorrow, there will be nothing left on the beach but the intact, undamaged masts. Arrangements are being made to float them around to be lifted out using the shipyard crane. The boat came ashore in front of some very large, very pristine homes, with perfectly manicured lawns that come right down to the beach, far from the main road. Getting in heavy equipment was not really an option. Everything that was accomplished so quickly and efficiently was done using a group of determined people, a few large pickup trucks and a trailer. Ideas of how to remove the keel, which is still underwater, and contains nearly 10,000 pounds of lead, are still being bandied about. I am in favor of running an ad in the back of Wooden Boat magazine that reads, ‘free lead, you pick up.’
Any other ideas are welcomed.
While we understand that there will be a period of mourning, we stand by to welcome the owner of Safari into the boatless club, when he is ready. Instead of spending long winter evenings contemplating the upgrades and repairs to be done to his boat come spring, he can join us in those long internet trolling sessions, seeking out the next perfect boat!
