About five years ago, when I needed to make room for another boat in the garage, I moved one of my Greenland kayaks out and tucked it under the eaves on the north side of my house. It wouldn’t be as well protected there as it had been in the garage, but it would be out of the sun and only occasionally subject to rain. Perched with its bow resting on a downspout and the aft deck on a bracket clamped to the power meter’s conduit, the kayak’s cockpit crossed the windows of my study and its stern hung over the back door. While it was never out of view, it was soon out of mind.Photographs by the author
Protected by the eaves above, the kayak hung in plain sight and yet sadly out of mind. Over time the neglect began to show.
While I “saw” the kayak several times a day, I’ve been blindered by routine and paid no more attention to it than I did the gutter above it. One dim gray afternoon this winter, a patch of color caught my eye and I finally took notice of the kayak. Half of its starboard side was no longer white but a mottled olive green where it had been hit by the rain. In that moment, I was struck by an ache for how forlorn the kayak looked. In The Wind in the Willows, when Mole first saw Rat’s boat, his “whole heart went out to it at once,” but while Mole had been moved by a boat’s beauty, I felt sadness for the kayak’s sorry state. Perhaps there is something inherent in a boat, no matter its state, that can evoke feelings normally reserved for living beings.
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Comments (9)
An eloquent, thoughtful essay. And one that I’m sure touches a lot of readers of this journal because we have a tendency to build or acquire more boats than we can use—or provide proper shelter for.
Here in the Pacific Northwest we have kind of a tradition of half-burying small wooden boats that have outlived their usefulness in the ground, where they may acquire a second life as planters. Or if we have no horticultural ambitions, we simply allow the relentless nag of Northwest rain to slowly return the hulls to the earth. Either way seems like a graceful and not unsightly end for a used-up boat.
Larry,
I once saved a boat from being a planter. It was a kicker boat/skiff, that were rented at the Camano Island resorts. I salvaged the 7/8×8 inch planking and repurposed it into my electric launch. It was a good feeling to continue the life of the old boat. ;o)
Another kind of boat often seen residing forlornly in back yards and driveways is the unfinished ferro cement project (though usually not a small boat). Bolger commented one time that when budgeting for an FC boat, you should add in the cost of demolition.
P.S. One designer (maybe the only one) of small FC boats is Jay Benford, who designed concrete boats as small as 17 feet.
Below my parents’ house, which overlooked the Aire Valley between between Bingley and Keighley in Yorkshire, ran the Leeds-Liverpool Canal, long abandoned by commercial traffic but still open to pleasure craft. As a boy I often walked home from school along the towpath. I would see all sorts of small pleasure boats moored and in little boat yards, many well maintained, but some slowly melting into the mud and weeds. I always felt a sense of extreme sadness to see those little wooden craft rotting away. I think there is a sense of soul in a handcrafted boat, inherited maybe from those who built it, that a fiberglass boat however beautiful can never acquire.
I’ve taken on as a retirement hobby picking up an old unwanted under
18-ft sailboat and restoring it. And then selling it for the cost
of the material I’ve had to put into it. It’s kept me busy in the spring,
and it’s a great feeling to see the boat rolling down the road to a new home.
PS They have to be under 18 ft to fit in my garage.
Whether boat, or bat, or bucket, something forlorn about the unused or abandoned. Often walking by a yard or vacant lot I get a tug in the gut for these orphaned things.
An eloquent, thoughtful essay. And one that I’m sure touches a lot of readers of this journal because we have a tendency to build or acquire more boats than we can use—or provide proper shelter for.
Here in the Pacific Northwest we have kind of a tradition of half-burying small wooden boats that have outlived their usefulness in the ground, where they may acquire a second life as planters. Or if we have no horticultural ambitions, we simply allow the relentless nag of Northwest rain to slowly return the hulls to the earth. Either way seems like a graceful and not unsightly end for a used-up boat.
Larry,
I once saved a boat from being a planter. It was a kicker boat/skiff, that were rented at the Camano Island resorts. I salvaged the 7/8×8 inch planking and repurposed it into my electric launch. It was a good feeling to continue the life of the old boat. ;o)
…and then there are the “almost finished” boats likewise deserving some greater attention.
Another kind of boat often seen residing forlornly in back yards and driveways is the unfinished ferro cement project (though usually not a small boat). Bolger commented one time that when budgeting for an FC boat, you should add in the cost of demolition.
P.S. One designer (maybe the only one) of small FC boats is Jay Benford, who designed concrete boats as small as 17 feet.
Below my parents’ house, which overlooked the Aire Valley between between Bingley and Keighley in Yorkshire, ran the Leeds-Liverpool Canal, long abandoned by commercial traffic but still open to pleasure craft. As a boy I often walked home from school along the towpath. I would see all sorts of small pleasure boats moored and in little boat yards, many well maintained, but some slowly melting into the mud and weeds. I always felt a sense of extreme sadness to see those little wooden craft rotting away. I think there is a sense of soul in a handcrafted boat, inherited maybe from those who built it, that a fiberglass boat however beautiful can never acquire.
Andrew,
Right!
I think, wow, at one point that boat was someone’s joy and they took pride in its completion.
I have given my unused boats away, hoping that the new owner would take care of them. I’m sure, that’s not always the case.
I’ve taken on as a retirement hobby picking up an old unwanted under
18-ft sailboat and restoring it. And then selling it for the cost
of the material I’ve had to put into it. It’s kept me busy in the spring,
and it’s a great feeling to see the boat rolling down the road to a new home.
PS They have to be under 18 ft to fit in my garage.
Whether boat, or bat, or bucket, something forlorn about the unused or abandoned. Often walking by a yard or vacant lot I get a tug in the gut for these orphaned things.