So that’s exciting in a mildly terrifying way. So begins our two-year adventure.
I’m told that shopping for a boat is like shopping for a house. I haven’t ever done that, since I’ve been living in San Francisco for so long, and real estate prices are… Not Good. But at least when you shop for houses, you’re mostly looking in one area. Our “one area” was basically the eastern seaboard, and maybe also the gulf or the Caribbean islands. Or Tahiti, before we decided it would be easier to do the setup portion in the US. Hurricane season gave us a bit of a timeline, but after that, we had an overwhelming abundance of options.
We spent a long time debating monohull versus catamaran – basically, did we want a boat that doesn’t flip over, or one that doesn’t sink. And, whether to try to finance and buy more boat, since we’re only going to have it during our trip. If we maintain it well, which we expect to do, and we buy a boat that’s already done most of its depreciating, we should be able to sell it for something in the ballpark of what we bought it for, so for the cost of 5% a year, we could buy some extra convenience. With a big open question like that, it’s hard to even narrow down the price range you should be looking at. Analysis paralysis ensues.
And then we saw the ad for the boat pictured above, and we both basically realized that’s what we want. It’s a Catamaran, but not a super big one. A “monohull-plus”. Super sea-worthy: apparently at one point, of the 500 of these that were made, 100 were known to have circumnavigated. The solid bridge-deck adds rigidity vs the commonly-seen trampoline, and provides a flat space that fits a yoga mat on each side. Enough storage to be comfortable, without being extravagant. We were sold. Now, in the weird logic of boat sales, we just had to make an offer, and then come and see it in person.
And that took us to Georgia for our survey and sea trial, which is a story for a later post.