Departure

The Irish Goodbye

Departing for a new voyage is always exciting. You’ve spent countless hours preparing for your launch to ensure that everything goes as planned. This includes mapping coordinates to the next location, checking weather, tides, and current, loading provisions, topping off fuel and water, and going over (and over) all the mechanics to ensure the girl is up for the move and all systems are functioning. You make a list and then check it over and over again—because once you splash and head underway, you’re trusting in the fact that you’ve done everything possible to ensure success.

We’ve all been through this process many times. In boating—and in life. Some of you are currently preparing to send your kids off to college. For our family, this planned departure is the result of over 18 months of restoring the newest addition to our fleet: a 1963 Hatteras.

This 34-foot project came into our lives unexpectedly in late 2023, and the last year and a half has been a combined effort from the three guys in the family—each one lending their insights, labor, and funds (lots of funds!) to the project. This Squallgirl has provided many late-night dinners and has had to listen to nearly every conversation around the house be about the ongoing bucket list of projects.

Just recently, while onboard our sailboat, I got to observe my husband and my youngest sitting down below having a quiet one-on-one conversation. My heart was full, thinking they were pondering life—until I realized they were actually talking about plumbing the head and not life’s goals and dreams. It was literally just more crap about the Hatteras. Hmmm… crap about the Hat. Now there’s a blog title!

All that aside, the endless hours of work (a light estimate of about 1,000 hours) have finally come to an end, and the old girl is being placed in the cradle to splash after a long time on the hard. She’ll finally be floating—and once that key turns, she’ll be off for new adventures and new memories.

In her past 60 years, I’m sure she’s seen a lot. There are stories embedded in her hull and generations of boaters who have sat on her decks, tossed a fishing pole over her side, taken a swim off her back, and been lulled to sleep below deck on many hot summer nights. Her story continues with our family. The new stories have yet to be written, and the miles yet to be traveled—but I’m sure the empty logbook will be filled with new locations and experiences.

The decks will get sullied with spilled food, beverages, sunscreen, and fish guts. One day, baby feet will balance themselves on the deck, white chubby hands grabbing hold of the handrails as they discover the love of the water that will last through their lifetime.

The old girl may have started as a project full of exhaustion, frustration, and a few arguments—but the experience has been nothing short of a fairytale. The pumpkin has been transformed into a coach-drawn carriage, sent off by the footmen of the boatyard, and she’ll be taking everyone—maybe not to a ball, but at the very least, to Block Island.

That is… until midnight strikes and something new needs to be fixed.