I wrote this song aboard s/v Tayrona as we sailed across the Pacific Ocean. Just got a chance to record and put it together now as boats aren’t generally renown for their acoustic-silencing properties. It’s sort of a easy-going tune to swashbuckle by. Hope you like it.
There’s dew on the deck,
And the dawn’s not broke yet,
We haul the anchor together,
Lit by the sunrise,
You turn back to me,
With a smile that will light my forever,
CHORUS:
Weigh! Our horizons await,
I hear the sirens sing our names on the breeze,
We’ll stand hand in hand as we set to the sea,
And we’ll sail ‘round the world,
Yes, we’ll sail ‘round the world,
You and me.
Full canvas flies,
As the morning arrives,
We ride the tide out the harbor,
It seems we’re destined,
To have favorable winds,
So let’s cast off the dock lines my lover,
CHORUS
Sails under strain,
Endless aqueous plains,
A squall rolls on through then another,
But the storm will abate,
And the seas moderate,
For we’ve tethered ourselves to each other,
CHORUS
So, you set the course,
I’ll steer through the white horses,
Landfall in the isles in ten days,
We sail side by side,
Twin keels seamlessly carving,
Two parallel paths through the waves.
After our 1 AM arrival to Naples, we still intended to make the boat scouting appointments that we had planned with our broker and some private listings the following day. All of the appointments were two hours away in Fort Lauderdale, so we were up at six o’clock and on the road again. Man we were getting sick of driving!
Made it to our appointment on time and met Steve Moore from the Catamaran Company who we had met on our previous mission to Florida. He introduced us to Kenan and his wife Julie, two young Brits who were selling their Lagoon 380 after a year sabbatical in the Bahamas. The boat was in beautiful shape for its age, and was very well equipped. Kenan is a professional captain on massive private yachts (220 feet massive), as well as a pilot. He knew the boat extremely well and kept good care of her. After a run through of the boat and some discussion of possible timeline we walked away with a distinct like of the boat and a good feeling about the owners.
Our second, third, and fourth boats of the day went by in a blur. I don’t think we even got a picture of any of them! Our heads were still in the clouds about the Lagoon and nothing held a candle to it. We didn’t even discuss it much between us. We just drove back to the Catamaran Company, located in a floating office in a marina, and asked Steve to help us make an offer.
It started pouring rain. The boat was listed outside of our comfortable price range. We decided to make an offer that we could afford, and make an itinerary for the hand over of the boat that would be attractive to the sellers. They were trying to fly back to the U.K. in mid-October, and were really hoping to move the boat before then. We crossed our fingers that giving them the option of a quick turn-around could make up for our lower offer.
With Steve’s help we filled in and sent a formal offer on the boat outlining purchase price, conditions, and dates for survey/sea trial, acceptance of vessel, and closing. We hurried a transfer to Cat. Co’s escrow account through some help with Miranda’s friends at her Wisconsin bank, and then sent the offer over to Kenan’s selling broker. Then we waited.
And we waited.
And it felt like forever.
In fact, it was only fifteen minutes, but I felt like the gun was going to go off for the cross country state meet, or I was going to sit a six hour quantum physic exam. This rates right up there in the stress. If I was prone to heart disease, I’d likely be dead.
And then Steve waltzes up the steps, sits and says casually, “Well, they accepted your offer.” I thought we’d fall out of our chairs but it was so nonchalant that I just stared at him. We signed some papers and made a few phone calls to set up sea trials and survey for the very next day.
It was late in the day and we were to be back at the boat at 8:30 the following morning. Instead of driving two hours back to Naples, then retracing our steps the following day in the wee hours of the morning we opted to get a hotel in Fort Lauderdale. After a good night’s sleep we were back on the boat early and really, really excited.
Kenan took us to the haul out, all the while making chit-chat in that British accent that will always make American ladies swoon. We navigated the busy waterways of Fort Lauderdale, avoiding towed yachts, ducking bridges, and jockeying in the respectable current. It was all very exciting.
At the shipyard we docked carefully and waited for the lift, a massive motorized contraption that looked like it had been built out of Legos by some industrious ten-year-old. The workers guided thick straps under the hulls and positioned them carefully to not sit on the keels, rudders, or sail drives.
With the grumble of a motor the boat was lifted slowly from the water, her undersides gleaming. The motorized lift rolled forward, for a second leaving the boat behind before it swung slightly and equalized in its motion.
Once over firm ground the boat was lowered slightly and we gathered around it. Usually things look bigger underwater, like fish or skinny dippers, but this definitely looked much bigger out of the water. I wondered what I was doing.
The rain began to fall, fat and slow, and we all took shelter under the catamaran’s bridge deck. I wondered what people with monohulls did in this situation. Our surveyer Jon, who specialized in catamarans and knew the Lagoon 380 especially well, filled us in on his assessment of the boat so far. We were happy to hear positive news all around.
The boat was put back in the water. I think I heard her audibly sigh. It’s unnatural for a vessel to be hanging from her hulls. We motored out into the Atlantic and put up sails. The wind was slight so we didn’t sail long, but enough to get the feel of the boat, work the sails, and give the surveyor a chance to check them.
On the way back in the sky opened up again on us. I took the helm by request and let the others take shelter in the saloon. Without rain gear my shirt was quickly soaked. We waited twenty minutes for a bridge in the rain, working the twin diesels to keep us close enough to the bridge to shelter from lightning, but far enough to avoid collision.
When we got back to dock I was soaked and chilly, but very much excited. We sat in the saloon and got the rundown from the surveyor. All in good, working shape, a few things that need to be addressed, but nothing major. Green light. We signed the Acceptance of Vessel.
We stayed for an hour or so talking to Julie and Kenan about the boat and each others’ lives. They are a really interesting couple, extremely personable and open and we’re so happy to be accepting the boat from them and carrying on her adventure. Miranda and I drove back to Naples with our heads spinning. We now are left with the task of getting all the paperwork settled and wire transfers lined up. If all goes well, we close in early October and move aboard then. Oh, and one more thing- No name set in stone so far… hmmm…
We put in our offer. We bit off our fingernails to stubs- well, Pete did anyway. I just drank too much coffee and talked in short, blurting sentences to anyone I knew about “our offer.”
I couldn’t get Pete on the phone fast enough when I read Alexis’s email saying that Dariousz was prepared to accept our offer. All we needed to do was email a formal contract with a few edits to Alexis right away and be prepared to send our 10% deposit to the brokering company’s escrow account on Monday morning. Yes, we can do that. Done. Contract in and money ready to go. To me, this was acceptance of our offer.
I guess I’m naive enough to accept people at their word. To believe that even without seeing a signed contract, getting verbal (well, email) acceptance of our offer was enough. Brokers are masters of the fine print, so I guess writing that he was “prepared to accept our offer,” must not be the same as “I’m accepting your offer.” In addition, it would have been much clearer and honest to say, “the owner is continuing to show the boat and will be accepting offers until a contract is signed.”
Turns out that on Sunday afternoon a different prospect took a look at the boat (while our offer was accepted on Saturday), and told both the owner and the broker that he’d like to make a formal offer. This offer was higher than ours, and we received an email from Alexis stating that Dariousz had accepted this offer instead of ours.
I will be the first person to admit that I am new at this process. That I’ve never bought a house, much less, a boat before. Obviously I know that money talks, and I can see a point of view that says it’s stupid to turn down more money from a higher offer until a contract has been officially signed. But experiencing moments like this, those that make you disappointed in how you were treated by a fellow member of the human race are just kinda sucky. Not the most eloquent way of stating this, but accurate. Life will go on. There are bigger problems in the world. But still- this was kinda sucky.
We went to Florida as a learning experience in what specifics we are looking for in a cruising catamaran and gain knowledge into the boat buying process. We’ve accomplished both of these, and we are really quite pleased with how things went. This last incident just put a momentary hitch in our giddyup. But, such as with all life’s lessons, those that hit hardest are often the most meaningful and long-lasting. We are blessed to have this opportunity to take time off and sail, and we’ll continue to jump any hurdles we need to in order to make it happen.
Our boat is still out there, and we are fully confident that we’ll find her yet!
