Tempus Fugit (Time is On the RUN)

GATHER ye rosebuds while ye may,
Old Time is still a-flying:
And this same flower that smiles to-day
To-morrow will be dying.
From To the Virgins, To Make Much of Time 

—by Robert Herrick

Article by Dave Zeiger

How do you dream of spending your One, Precious Life?

Early on, Anke and I spent some time in the boatyards of Port Townsend, Washington. We were at work on our first boat, BRAMBLE—a lapstrake, lifeboat conversion to gaff cutter. Life and death intervened, as it will, and we ended up building and sailing out on ZOON (ex Bolger 19.5ft LONG MICRO).

During this period, we made many friends who were at work on their own projects; building, restoring, rebuilding. What struck us was the amount of time they poured into these.

By time, I mean years. Years and years. Years a'building, sometimes stretched thin across decades. Amateurs and pros alike. Years siphoned off in financing materials, tools, transportation, building site and launch. I'm talking blood, sweat and tears. Keeping body and soul together with one foot nailed ashore. Loves were lost (though sometimes also won), sunk by the sheer effort of building and all those necessary chores which building entails.

A few stuck it out, produced a beautiful, curvaceous vessel and sailed off to enjoy the returns on that heavy, initial investment. Some finished up, took a slip in the harbor, and left her there, but for the rare, public appearance and seasonal haul-out. Others are still at it. Many traded that dream for another. Now and then, one of them would clutch at their chest and keel over, leaving their dream unrealized in some dark shed.

We mulled all this over and it simmered on the back burner of our own project.

And then there was YEE-HA, a simple, plywood sharpie. Obviously she had been thrown together without much consideration for the esteem of others. Her cabin was... well... chunky. Resin dribbles and tape edges had not been faired. Her gear was plebeian—neither brass nor bronze graced her decks. Rig was DIY and wouldn't be winning any races.

Yet here was clearly a boat who could live up to her name.

She opened our eyes to a whole fleet of simple, sub-yachty vessels. How had we missed them? Because they are, for the most part, out there! They're not often lingering at a dock or in the yard. They don't often get photographed or written about, unless with a sneer and jeer. They aren't sexy enough to sell product. Their performance is derided from uninformed prejudice or held to requirements far beyond their intended use.

And yet they are out there, exploring backwaters both literal and littoral. They are the odd dot on the horizon, or found tucked away in sloughs and estuaries, the remote coves of remote coasts. Perhaps, even, the Far Isles.

No boat gets built without gumption, effort and persistence. Especially not if it’s to be our home. There’ll be challenge enough. But the time required for a simple boat can be measured in months, not years. And the view is the same, whether from decks of teak or burlap.

So come all ye dreamers who dream of the sea! It’s the Ugly Duckling who flew with swan’s wings. Building a boat happens on land, but that’s not the dream. In the words of St. Larry the Cable Guy, “Git 'er done!” The simpler the boat, the closer we are to “Got 'er did!”

Tempus Fugit!

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That Age is best, which is the first, 
When Youth and Blood are warmer; 
But being spent, the worse, and worst.
Then be not coy, but use your time;
And while ye may, go marry:
For having lost but once your prime, 
You may forever tarry.
From To the Virgins, to Make Much of Time

—by Robert Herrick

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