1981 Catalina 25

SHE HAS ISSUES Posted on  March 29, 2018  by  martinjlaight When I found my used sailboat, I looked her over, poked around and then decided to give her a go. Back in 1981, when Catalina produced her, I had met my first wife and did pretty much the same thing with her. I married the woman, knowing little about who she was. For the first six months of the ill-fated marriage, we barely saw much of each other. She lived in High Wycombe. I lived in Devon, almost two hundred miles away. Later, in earnest, we moved in together, but sadly, fidelity did not. We both had issues. She cheated on me, and I on her. Our marriage ended in divorce. In many relationships, familiarity either breeds contempt, or it reveals one’s capacity for love. My Catalina 25 also has issues, a multitude of small ones, which I viewed as a cluster of fun. However, when she moved home, a closer inspection revealed around twice as many issues than those observed at the storage facility/graveyard. Gradually, the

We Call Her " She " When I kayak-camped Old Hickory Lake in the fall of 2016, I learned that a broader view of my "ordinary life" created a matching horizon and that every adventure whether great or small sharpens a dull perspective.  Buying the Catalina 25' was a precarious risk, but the benefits are already self-evident. My shed was a dump, my tools unrecognizable. Now, electricity, a coffee pot, beer fridge, roll-away tool-chest and wireless internet access embolden my determination. I created a space for design drawings and then built an inexpensive workbench from lumber costing less than fifty dollars. The Catalina’s previous owner had abandoned an assortment of useful and expensive accessories, including the additional winches and running-rigging for single-handed sailing. I calculated the “used” or “second-hand” value of the equipment stowed in the sailboat’s cabin, along with the tandem-axle trailer. The exercise encouraged my optimism. I valu

Work-space For almost ten years, our 16ft. X 10ft. Spacemaker shed housed the junk that I cleared out of our basement when I converted the space into a yoga room, an office and a studio. Although I referred to the outbuilding as the garden shed, it became, over time, a storage room for all of those “rainy day” items. Now, more than one thousand rainy days later, I decided to empty the shed. When I opened the doors, I couldn’t step inside without pulling things out of the way. I didn’t take a picture, but even if I had, I still wouldn’t post it here. The place was a shambles, an overwhelming sight and sharing it would cause such embarrassment. Allowing the space to evolve in that way was a personal trait that I hadn’t noticed before. How could I be such a clutter-bug? Nevertheless, with a 12ft. tall sailboat on a 30ft. trailer parked in the yard, and a gutsy, determined attitude, I took a deep breath...and begged my wife for her help. We went through the stuff and voted

Accommodation A functional sailboat comprises of several integrated systems. Their efficiency enables the flotation and transport of a comfortable living space across the water’s surface. System maintenance requires a wide range of skill-sets and a variety of tools. In his book, "Fix it and Sail," Brian Gilbert details the renovation of a 1972 MacGregor 222, and recommends preparing an alternative work-space. Working in the boat's cockpit, on deck, or down below is not always a viable option. I understood the necessity for a workshop. First, I considered our basement, which is warm in the winter and stays cool in the summer. With a 7 ft. high ceiling and floor space of around 1,100 sq ft. (the size of a decently sized bungalow), it satisfied my self-inflated ego.  However, we currently use  300 sq ft. as a home office. We have a small laundry area, a 20 ft. x 12 ft. yoga and exercise room complete with a kick bag, martial arts equipment and a flat-screen

Introduction.   Hi, my name is Martin. I live in the sun-drenched state of Tennessee, land-locked among the mid-southern forests of the United States. Although I grew up in the U.K., that gnarly old island on the other side of the Atlantic, I know little about sailing, even less about sailboats or "yachts" as we called them back home.  My work brought me to Tennessee many years ago, but m y lifetime profession gradually lost its allure. Late last year, in search of a more noble purpose, I took to the lake on a kayak and camping adventure. On my return, I wrote my first non-fiction book, "One Sumner Tale" and worked as a writer almost every day since.  Earlier this year, I bought a sail for my 15' Prijon kayak. From the moment the sail billowed out against the backdrop of an infinite blue sky and carried me across the water, my passion for sailing ignited. Owning and piloting a full size yacht became a new and tremendous ambition that quickly turn