A Tale of Two Yachts

He laughs when I call my 16-foot sailboat a yacht—which is just about the same length as the beam of his boat.

story by Brian Nazinitsky
illustration by Joseph Buchanan

My brother-in-law, Allan, is a Yachtsman, and purchased a “proper” yacht about the same time I did. He laughs when I call my 16-foot sailboat a yacht—which is just about the same length as the beam of his boat. I constantly point out just how similar our “yachts” are. In fact, I can hardly tell the boats apart, despite the vast difference in size.

The LOA (length overall) differs by a mere thirty feet. His yacht has three well appointed staterooms, full galley and two heads. I tend to get lost among the twists and turns leading to each. A simple portable potty fills the needs of a head for me, and the cooler packs lots of cold beverages and sandwiches, all within easy reach. No clogged heads ever on my yacht. Never has my “fridge” failed, or drained the house battery bank. My “stateroom” has two comfy benches/bunks and an “open floor plan” leading to the peak. I’m not sure anyone has ever slept in the two aft staterooms on his yacht, but the bunks on mine have provided a soft nest for lots of weary sailors, guests, and children.

The last time I was on Allan’s yacht, he proudly demonstrated his electronics and navigational instrument package upgrade. Very impressive, I must say. It looked like it could do everything, including making the morning coffee and predicting the latest stock trends. It even had a remote module, in case you were exhausted from climbing out of your 14 inch thick cushion bunk, and could not get on deck to see for yourself what was going on. Nine-tenths of my nav package I was born with, including eyes to judge the sky and sea and follow landmarks, ears to hear the wind in the rigging, skin to feel the wind over the starboard rail. Oh, I also have a 10 year old handheld GPS and marine radio, both of which can clip to my belt in case I can’t get out of my bunk, or raise my head to peek out the companionway. Really, hardly any difference between the two, don’t you agree?

There are some times, while on my yacht, that I run into a snag or two. A broken fitting, kinked line or something similar. No need for panic. However, there is a distinct difference on my brother-in-law’s yacht—it’s time to panic. I’ll give an example: During the first trip on his yacht, he asked me to go to the bow to handle a dock line. I was wearing my well worn Top Siders, as I do most of the year. I hopped up onto the cockpit bench, and walked along the sidedeck to the bow. A tirade of expletives followed. “How dare you step on my new, white, custom covered cockpit cushions? Take the @#!!#$ steps!” Steps? Really? Go figure. My little yacht is made for climbing and would be perfect for a troop of chimps or small children. My yacht, has custom fit cushions too. I cut them from thick, royal blue yoga mats. They are non slip, no fuss and beer, salsa or footprints wipe right off without ruining the fabric. Now, that is seaworthy!

The power plant on Allan’s yacht has twin 300HP diesel engines (yes, I forgot to mention his is a power yacht). A set of hydraulic pistons raise the aft part of the cockpit sole, exposing two bright yellow, minivan size engines. I occasionally flip up my transom hung 2HP outboard to get it out of the water. The effort needed to access the power plant on both yachts is so simple, and so similar. To be fair, my power plant includes a couple of hundred square feet of sail, but when flaked and folded, they are not nearly as bulky as a minivan. I would bet his freeboard exceeds the sail area of my yacht, making docking interesting when the wind pipes up. My fuel costs are about $10 year, even at $4.00 a gallon for gasoline. My brother-in-law turns the key and burns $10.

I try my best to use the yacht frequently. Work, family and enjoyable outdoor activities besides sailing may preclude using it that week. I never feel guilty if it sits idle, decorating the driveway. Allan must use his yacht, sacrificing other activities. We both agree, the season is too short. Marina fees, maintenance and yacht insurance dictate that he must get his money’s worth with each use. Each time I slip the boat from the trailer, the experience is priceless (and rather cheap), and I always get my money’s worth of sailing time. Owning a yacht is not cheap, but some, like my little yacht, are a lot less to maintain.

We both get our “on the water time” but have a slightly different approach. Alone, wind pressing on the sails, with the yacht quietly cutting a path through the water is my approach. Entertaining a crowd to the sounds of music and throaty diesel engines as the yacht pushes over the swells is his. At least we share a passion for boats. •SCA•

First appeared in issue #98