It’s happening. It’s actually happening.
Not only are we getting another boat, we’re getting a Flicka. My dream boat! Yep, it’s the boat from my last post. I’m still in awe, still kind of disbelieving. There’s a Flicka about six slips down from ours, she’s another green-hulled beauty named Honu (it’s Hawaiian for sea turtle). So often have I walked down the dock to stand at her side and stare. Her owners, Kathleen and Adam, have very kindly invited me on board a couple of times so I could get a closer look. I just gawk and make fangirl noises. I’m so in love with these boats. I joked to Kathleen that I’m her boat’s stalker.
Well, I can leave my stalking days behind me. I’ve finally got one! A FLICKA. Can this really be happening? The hole in our bank account suggests I should move toward acceptance. We pick her up this weekend, weather permitting. We’re sailing her from the Oak Harbor marina at the north end of Whidbey Island, to our slip at the Shilshole Bay Marina in Ballard. It’s a distance of about 43 nautical miles (or so Navionics informs me), which is 32 miles longer than we’ve ever sailed before. We’re stopping over in Everett for the night, at the big city marina that is apparently ten kinds of awesome:
Port of Everett Marina
This is the largest public marina on the west coast, with more than 2,300 slips. It is a world-class facility with almost any service or product you might require. A recent expansion included the addition of another yacht basin. The showers, restrooms, and laundry rooms are clean and well-maintained, and the vast marina complex has shops, hotels, and fantastic restaurants. The Everett Naval Station,where the USS Abraham Lincoln aircraft carrier docks, is adjacent to the marina.
I went to West Marine last night. I got some alcohol for the stove, some seat cushions, and a back-up handheld marine radio from Icom. Instead of flares I was sucked into buying a Weems and Plath Distress Beacon, which I keep hearing is the bee’s knees. We’ll pick up some groceries. We’ve already packed a couple boxes of things from the old boat; dishes, utensils, some safety gear, etc. I’m bringing my favorite pillow, and my hand-knit wool socks (I hate having cold feet). We’ve got charts, back-up charts, and a GPS unit. Dave and Sherrie were so kind, they actually flushed out all the old fuel and filled our tanks with fresh gas. All we have to do is watch the weather, and shove off. A Flicka. I have my own Flicka.
Now that I know we’re buying her, here are some photos. None of the photos are mine. A couple are from an old sale from a few years ago, but almost all of them taken by Dave and Sherrie, the sellers, who have been so great to work with. Lee, our broker who sold our Hunter for us (in February), knows them well and told me, “Boy, you sure find the nicest people to buy boats from.” It’s true!
This is actually a sales shot from when she was for sale in Edmonds. Look at that pretty sheer! That cheeky bowsprit! She’s just waiting to go somewhere. In other news: What’s up with the water in Edmonds?
The cockpit is surprisingly roomy. The handholds on the doder are very sturdy, which makes going forward a thousand times easier. I felt very steady when I walked forward, which surprised me on such a small boat. All that old teak will get some love, I’m thinking of Teak Guard. I don’t want to use Cetol or spend time varnishing, and the oiling has mixed reviews.
The inside has a dinette! I didn’t think I’d like that at all, but it’s great. Eating, spreading out a chart, working on projects, preparing a meal. And yep, that’s a portapotty. There’s no enclosed head on this boat. We just didn’t need one, and I hated to waste the space. I’ll be putting up a curtain, for sure. I want to install a desiccating head at some point, a la Rain Dog.
Outboard! No diesel. No cabin filled with diesel stink. No bone-rattling motoring. No extra holes in the hull. If the engine dies or needs repair, I can get a new engine or detach this one with very little pain. No prop walk. No prop, no drag – maybe we can get an extra knot that way! It’s a tradeoff, I know. We’re now traveling with gasoline. I’d certainly rather that weren’t the case. I’ve been doing some reading on engineless sailing. It’s amazing. I’ll get some oars. I’ll just row my way around the marina. What could go wrong? An out-of-shape woman in her early forties (I refuse to use the term middle-aged) with a chronic pain condition rowing her six-thousand-pound boat through Puget Sound currents? Easy peasie, lemon squeezie. But seriously – I actually love the idea. I wish I really could just jettison the whole thing. Maybe someday, when they cure fibro, and I get ten times as strong as I am now. And I learn to carve a yuloh.
Greg fits in that quarter berth. I think it looks terrifying, but then I’m claustrophobic. The v-berth has plenty of room for me. Also – there are three faucets. ?? One is fresh water, one is seawater, the other is….a total mystery. There are only two pedals on the floor. And look up! Look at that, no headliner! It’s planked, and so beautifully done, too, I love that! It will last forever and be so easy to care for.
This is where I shall sit to check my charts, and listen to the weather, and eat my sandwich.
I love the scrollwork on the Flickas.
Cabin top. Lines are led aft, which we might change. We prefer them at the mast, and it’s actually much easier on my fibromyalgia to raise them there then to try and raise them after they’ve gone through sheaves and woven their way to the cockpit – where “cockpit spaghetti” provides a wonderful way for me to trip and fall and get bruises that bloom so huge I take photos to gross out my friends. Hmmm….on second thought, did I say “might” change? I meant definitely change. Although we’ll leave the furled jib. It makes Greg’s heart go pitter-pat.
(Can you hear it? Pitter-pat, pitter-pat?) The nose – on the Danas, they’ve painted a star right on the end of the bowsprit. Is it painted? I think it’s enameled or something. I’m going to paint a tiny something on this one.