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see an ad for a Prairie 32’ cutter. Never heard of them, but she looks good. With an eleven-foot beam and at 19,000 lbs, she is hefty and seems suited for offshore. She is in nearby Beaufort, NC. I drive for an hour. She is even better built and designed than I could have imagined. Robust, high gunnels, heavy cleats, double roller furling. She is a well-built girl.

But the boat is a mess. Her wiring has been stripped out. Her topside paint is peeling. A project boat for someone half my age, yet I remain impressed by her design. I take my long suffering spouse (Olga) to dinner at a restaurant and drive home.

Another one down, the Prairie 32 struck from the list.

Minutes pass by.

Then there it was in front of me on the computer screen. A glimmering and beautiful hull. The Frances 26 with the little cabin. One of the boats in Ferenc Mate’s “Best Boats”. I am instantly in boat love. It is listed at 49k but I am going to take a shot at her. I email the broker and ask how I go about making a real offer and he explains the process. He sends the forms. I fill them out and make out the check. I offer 33k.

I am in pain immediately.

I think, “what the hell are you doing? No twenty-six foot , thirty-year old boat is worth that kind of cash.” I am 10K over budget! Virtually no equipment, located seven states away in Maine! What we do for love!

I go to the place that sends the faxes. I pay, they send. I go online and fill out the forms to get the estimate to insure the boat. I send off some more questions to the broker. I ask for a list of surveyors in his area. I wring my hands, I pace, I email the broker again and tell him when I will make the trip up there. Gas for the car, time out of work , another thousand dollars. Move the boat down here and splash her for another $2500. It’s adding up fast.

My hands are sweaty. Olga is crying in the next room about our impending boat poverty.

I calm myself. It will not work out. The offer is too high for me, and will be too low for them.

Without hearing from the broker, my brain begins to move on from that Frances. Boat love can be brief.

I search the web again. There must be a suitable pocket cruiser nearby. I find an ad for a Vancouver 27. These are nice boats. Highly regarded – they have sailed everywhere.

I start to email the owner but then stop myself…I will call. No more fooling around. That’s right, it’s the new me. I’m a serious buyer.

I call.

The guy tells me the Vancouver is sold. He tells me he is in Alabama but the Vancouver was indeed in NC. He tells me his life story. He was going cruising in the 27 but then he and his wife decided it was too small. They sold it and bought a bigger boat. A beauty. But plans changed and now they want no boats. The 27 gone, he asks if I am interested in his bigger boat that is now for sale. My curiosity piqued, I ask to learn more.

He tells me it is a solid, sound 32’ cruiser. A Prairie 32’. I think, can this be? I am now familiar with this model and perhaps this one is in better or even great shape. “Where is she?” I ask. He tells me, “Beaufort, NC.”

Can this be? How could this be? I ask. He answers. Indeed, it is the very same boat I have just seen. I tell him that the boat seemed like it was in rough shape. He tells me how his son, who showed the boat, was supposed to take care of the wiring, the cleaning, the preparation of the boat and he is angry. I tell him that I think it incredibly weird that we should be talking to each other. I do not think he fully understands the oddity of the coincidence due to his irritation with his son. He is going to call the yard and his son and find out what is going on. He is supposed to call back.

I am going to duck his family friction and his call.

I try, but I don’t manage to duck the call from the broker for the Frances. The seller refuses my offer, does not budge from his asking price even a little.

Relief washes over me. I tear up the documents.

The search begins again.

Treblig Setnof

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