It often begins with fascination.
People walk along the seafront, past harbours, through marinas, and pause on bridges to look out on the boats at sea. They might not even know they are looking, just that they like being in these spaces. Boats have a quiet presence to them. There is something about the way they sit in the water; silent, weathered, full of suggestion.
When Erik and I were first dating, we would walk slower whenever we would come by a marina. Soon, this lingering turned into taking a longer route to find one. Later, we would make random unplanned stops in unknown marinas whenever we were out driving.
Looking might seem idle at first. But over time, our gaze becomes more focused. What we are looking at might start to feel more like an invitation than a mere object. We begin to imagine.
Our looking turned into conversations. We discussed the features of the boats we saw, highlighting their strengths and weaknesses in different weather conditions and uses. The hull shape, rigging setup, the dimensions.
At some point we started classifying boats – either as lovers, wives or others. The lovers were boats that quickly grabbed your attention, with their slim lines, shiny surfaces, and promise of excitement and speed. The wives were sturdier, wider, with a slightly worn appearance, promising comfort and safety no matter the weather. And then there were the others, the ones we either didn’t like, didn’t understand or simply didn’t notice.
The type of boat we eventually came to look for emerged from these countless conversations on the features and qualities of different boats. Before talking about what kind of boat we wanted, we already knew: a sturdy steel boat, with one mast and a good living space.
In July of 2021, an online ad for a seemingly perfect boat showed up on Finn, the Norwegian version of Craigslist. A few conversations later, we found ourselves on a plane to the north of Norway to look at the boat. The boat was great, and we put in a bid. We did not get the boat. Despite us being the only bidder, and offering to pay more than the asking price, the owner decided to sell to a friend.
The loss of something you never had can hit with surprising weight. It might be a boat you never got to sail, an rejection email, just a house listing, a plan that never came to life. There is no drama. Just a pause where you realise that you are exactly where you were yesterday, but it no longer feels the same. It is not that something was taken away, but that something has started to take root.
Not getting the boat was the moment our boat hunt got serious. But throughout fall and winter, very few boats were put for sale, but we read through all the ads. In an impatient moment, we drove nine hours to see the only boat that met our criteria, despite not liking the listing, and confirming the bad feeling even before we even stepped on board. We were ready, but the market wasn’t.
One day in the following spring, Erik called to let me know that he had found a boat. At that point, I was on an exchange semester abroad, and Erik went to see it alone. After seeing the boat, he firmly let me know that this boat was “marriage material”.
Not long after, we put in a bit for the boat. We had a great connection with the owners, an older couple of professional artists. We were surprised, and sad, when the old man called to let us know that he would sell the boat to someone else.
A few days passed. Then the old man called us up again. He had come to learn that the person he had intended to sell it to was planning on ripping out all of her interior, stripping her down completely, and rebuilding her from scratch. The owner was horrified, caring deeply about the vessel who had accompanied him for over 20 years.
Some weeks later, on a beautifully sunny and windy day, he handed us her keys. We had less than 100 dollars left to our name, but had never felt richer.
Not everyone looks at boats, but everybody looks at something. We all have things that fascinates us, makes us curious. And boats are here to remind us of the possibilities that could come our way if we just looked a little closer, or even dared to take the leap and sail out into unknown waters.