Backstory

I recognize finding Perelandra as a watershed moment for us both. The conversation at home began in 2018. Marissa was frustrated at work. At the same time I was growing grim about the mouth and I started suggesting that we could sell our house, buy a boat and home school the children. I never expected Marissa to agree, but one day she came back with a suggestion of her own: a one year leave of absence. If I came up with an appropriate vessel we would cruise for a year. The hunt was on.

We set a goal of June 2022. I would leave my job and Marissa and the kids would finish out their school years. We’d spend the summer cruising Down East and the Canadian Maritimes before heading South for the winter. These were ambitious ideas for someone with a 29’ sailboat. Margalo would be sold and in February 2019 she was trucked away. She was cranky, and I’ve not missed her once.

Finding a boat that suited the purpose and possessed my values was difficult. I like old boats and I like displacement hulls. I like simplicity in systems. I like tough construction. The family’s demands were simple: a hot shower, and a bunk for every person that didn’t need to be put away each day; no one would sleep on the setee. I found few potential craft.

In May I decided to go see Perelandra. My uncle Charles sent me the ad. She had been listed on and off for some time and I was resistant at first because it was seven hours away and the ad was poor. The boat seemed interesting regardless, and a little tour through some boat yards is something I always enjoy. I got an early start one morning and ventured North.

The yard was far from the beaten path by road or by sea, well up the Penobscot River. A long dirt driveway from the main road led down a hill to the yard and the river beyond. Several large sheds were packed with boats, and derelicts lined the drive into the lot. Perelandra was tucked against the main building, surrounded by dust and other boats who hadn’t moved in years. I tracked down the yard manager who told me to help myself to a tour of the vessel.

Perelandra sits high on the ground and I found a long ladder nearby to scamper up her stern. As I climbed the rungs I passed the Aries vane on her transom and next my head was at deck level and I was climbing aboard. My eyes swept across her decks for the first time and in that disorganized jumble of spars and shrink wrap framing and rotten lines, I felt an electric jolt through my entire body then immediate calm. This was my boat.

For nearly three hours I climbed all over and through her. I opened every locker and lifted every hatch. I rummaged through gear. I inspected the sails. I combed through binders full of schematics and drawings. I searched all over for the disqualifying factor. It never emerged. There would be a long work list to bring her back to standards, but she was complete and she had the right stuff. She was beautiful, too.

“Am I out of my mind?” I asked Charles over the phone on my way home. I didn’t need to go to any other boatyards.

“Well, for starters: yes, and we always knew it.”

I convinced him to make the trip back up with me several weeks later. Perelandra was on a larger scale than any previous project and I needed another set of eyes that was less partial. Charles has ever been any help discouraging the purchase of sailboats, but there are few mariners whose opinion I trust as much as his. After reiterating that I was completely insane, he agreed that this was the boat for me and most of our discussion on the matter revolved around strategics for negotiating her purchase.

It took several phone calls with the yard manager but a deal was struck and I put a check in the mail the day before Marissa and I left for Iceland to celebrate our 10th anniversary. I spent the trip wondering over the fact that I now owned a vessel capable of making that journey by sea. Perelandra had been built to circumnavigate with her owners. It seemed as though nothing was out of reach.

It still seems that way.