Our multi-tiered plan was coming together— a short stint living aboard our boat, Windward. The house real estate sign boasted the For Sale placard on the street. Two shipment containers were added to the dance we all dislike about the relocating process. We were clearly in the sticky middle of our Messy but Perfect Move to Maui.
The first time we stepped through the ivy-covered wooden gate and down the timber steps, we were mesmerized by the shiplap 1930’s dock house. Vintage boat parts leaned against the shiplap walls and buoys with fishing gear hung from the eaves by rusted hooks. I imagined an old, bearded, salty captain would walk down the dock to greet me early on. That never happened.
Our liveaboard boat slip was at the end of a long dock on Lake Union, downtown Seattle. The boats cleated astride the long pier, each varying in length, style, and age. Each morning the fresh air from the water’s surface made the hot coffee sips on the boat more magical. I could get used to this liveaboard life.
Sam left the yacht early each day to complete his final remodel project. I lingered at the captain’s helm to watch the world float by and re-shuffle my ongoing Maui-goal lists and wait for Wi-Fi to kick in, which is a different story altogether.
There was one item on the list that defied logic and interfered with my timeline. Dear Reader, allow us this diversion, for we all have a soft spot for the underdog, don’t we?
A thin, frayed rope near the dock gate, a moss-covered, soggy dinghy (small inflatable boat) was haphazardly tied to its dock cleat. We passed slowly by the inflatable and pondered its story often through the months. It was long forgotten and listed forlornly— especially when it rained.
The thing puddled with murk and settled deeper in the water. Waves pushed it against the dock, and a single oar drifted nearby among lily pads and algae. The Seattle rains had filled the fiberglass bench seat area long ago, but it slowly bobbed with promise just above water level, allowing a green moss-film frosting.
Curious about the abandoned inflatable, the marina owner (not an old or bearded salty captain after all) shared it had belonged to an unruly liveaboard tenant. He had been evicted three years prior. It seems he enjoyed frequent lady friends and more frequent liquor-fueled brawls ending with late-night drunken strolls toward his liveaboard boat down the dock.
He had become a liability, so the eviction notice found him looking for a liveaboard boat slip elsewhere. In his drunken retreat, he left this pitiful inflatable, tethered loosely to the dock— and there it bobbed for years.
“It’s yours— if you want it,” the marina owner whispered as we assessed the wreckage and stood like skippers on the undulating wood dock in the rain and empathized with its sad state.
Well, we didn’t want it, but the project was calling soon after, as we discovered our pre-teen grandson wished for a fishing dinghy for his birthday. Unaware of the people/hours/cost it took to get the little boat back into shape, hindsight would have told us to buy him a pair of birthday sunglasses instead. But no— now it was a project, and we felt sorry for the pitiful water-logged mildew holder.
We named the boat, Puddle as soon as we struggled to remove excess filthy water from its belly. Even after draining that old water from the seeping fiberglass hull, it was too big and heavy to pull onto the dock and carry to our pickup. It required a boat trailer, which meant a tow/ float operation to get the floating mess to the nearest loading dock. Then we could trailer and haul it home for refit— total refit.
I calculated the timeline it would take to get Puddle proper. We toggled between final remodeling projects and the pressing yard and fence work at the house-for-sale.
The boat detail required power washing first. Then an intense power-sanding of the rubber inflatable tubes carefully to get the thing clean enough to paint. Early on, we determined white paint would restore respect from Puddle’s former self.
After nearly patching/ repatching the entire boat, we glued the tie-off rings and applied more than a few coats of white rubberish paint.
The newly refit, white dinghy needed only one more detail! Our grandson wanted to give Puddle a proper name, so he dubbed it THIS SIDE UP (with arrows pointing up like a shipping box).
We placed the lettering at each bow side (port and starboard), and proper buoys and ropes were attached. We cleaned up the former floating paddle and found a similar mate to complete the pair under an assortment of old boat gear in the garage. Two oars would be proper for safety.
