American Pie: Yorkshire Lass – Part VII – Finis
…On the appointed day, the boat was hauled onto dry land to give the surveyor access to the bottom, the propeller and the rudder. The gentleman in question turned out to be a rather taciturn, grizzled man who was plainly not vulnerable to any distraction we might try to throw in his path. Equipped with a small hammer and an array of instruments, he proceeded to go over the hull inch by inch. Tap–tap, pause, tap-tap, refer to instruments, tap-tap, make notes, tap-tap. Sandra and I huddled together a discrete distance away, but close enough so we could attempt to read from his facial expressions any clues as to what he might be finding, but without success…
With feelings of regret, tempered by relief, John Merchant sells his beloved boat Yorkshire Lass.
John brings to a close his series of articles on the days he spent with the Lass.
To read earlier articles in the series and more of John’s columns please click on http://www.openwriting.com/cgi-bin/mt-search.cgi?IncludeBlogs=1&search=john+merchant
Also visit his Web site
http://home.comcast.net/~jwmerchant/site/
After the cruise from hell, we decided that whatever the cost, we had to have radar, and that winter it was installed. In the years since then, we have used it perhaps four times at most, but its availability has been most comforting. We continued to cruise each summer with our fellow yacht club members, but each year the organizers became less and less enthusiastic, and ultimately gave up the job.
No one else in the group wanted the responsibility and the hassle, so for several years the cruisers have been going their own way, sometimes in pairs. Sandra and I had a three-year hiatus while my arthritic knees were being replaced, but then took up solo cruising with refreshed enthusiasm. But last season we found ourselves talking about getting out of sailing, and selling Yorkshire Lass, and this year we made the decision.
The rigors of spending four months living on the boat each year, though not extreme, have become more testing. The commissioning and decommissioning at the beginning and end, now is more demanding. The cost is no small consideration either. Everything associated with boating has grown more expensive, at a faster rate than the cost of living. With the reduced number of boats in the water due to the recession, chandleries and marinas have increased their prices to make up the difference.
The decision to sell, though not difficult in its self, precipitated an emotional roller coaster that resulted in daily highs and lows; so much of our life together has revolved around sailing and Yorkshire Lass. Our first steps were to make sure that the boat was looking her best, and to ensure that any problems with the mechanicals and electronics were taken care of. Once done, it was then a matter of deciding whether we should try to do the selling ourselves or sign a contract with a broker.
We found an excellent web page, sailboatlistings.com, that allows boat owners to post specifications and pictures on line, along with contact information, making a very professional looking display. This clinched our decision to sell the boat ourselves. It felt very strange to be putting “For Sale” signs on the bow and stern. We started to receive inquiries within a day or two of uploading data to the web page. We were thrilled, that is until we had to deal with the interested parties, who ranged from cooks (Not the culinary kind) to crooks.
Our experiences in this regard are chronicled in a separate column, “Seller Beware.” After a few mind-bending experiences, we decided that handling strange people, on top of the stress associated with the change of life-style, and the chore of keeping the boat always in pristine condition, more than justified the cost of paying a broker a commission. Fortunately for us we found a good, knowledgeable broker with whom we got along well.
After signing a wad of papers, he briefed us on what to expect, and what to do or not to do, afterwards taking multiple digital photos, inside the boat and out. In no time we had a prospective buyer, and were bracing ourselves for the obligatory, but dreaded survey. As the appointed day grew closer, our already frayed nerves stretched almost to snapping point. Surely, the surveyor was bound to find something that would damn the sale.
On the appointed day, the boat was hauled onto dry land to give the surveyor access to the bottom, the propeller and the rudder. The gentleman in question turned out to be a rather taciturn, grizzled man who was plainly not vulnerable to any distraction we might try to throw in his path. Equipped with a small hammer and an array of instruments, he proceeded to go over the hull inch by inch. Tap–tap, pause, tap-tap, refer to instruments, tap-tap, make notes, tap-tap. Sandra and I huddled together a discrete distance away, but close enough so we could attempt to read from his facial expressions any clues as to what he might be finding, but without success.
This agonizing procedure was then repeated all over the deck, before putting the boat back in the water and taking it out for a sea trial to test the engine, instruments, sails and rigging. From start to finish, the survey took about three hours, which to us seemed more like three weeks. But then it was over, and everyone departed, leaving us alone to wonder what the report would say.
Three nail-biting days later we had our answer. There were some minor problems that the buyer would take care of if we agreed to adjust the selling price! We exhaled for what seemed the first time in days. From that point on, events moved rapidly, and though we continued to anticipate snags, there were none, and the closing went smoothly. Checks and keys were handed over, documents were signed, and hands were shaken.
Suddenly, Yorkshire Lass wasn’t ours anymore. It’s also likely that she won’t be Yorkshire Lass anymore either. The new owner talked of naming her Grace II, but to us she will always be Yorkshire Lass, the embodiment of wonderful times and rare experiences that we will carry with us forever.
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