Points East Publishing, Inc.
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When the admiral's happy, I'm happy
By Ron O'Blenis with Faye O'Blenis
Our story begins a quarter of a century ago, shortly after Faye and I were married, when I became the captain of a Tanzer 22 sailboat. While I've remained at the rank of captain, over the years my wife has risen to admiral status, so when I said I wanted to write about our switch from sail to power, the Admiral responded, "I want to have my say." So as our tale continues, you'll be hearing from both of us – my comments in regular type, Faye's in italics.
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| | Photo courtesy Ron O'Blenis |
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Faye and Ron O'Blenis pose with their oldest grandchild next to their latest boat, a Bayliner 38. |
The First Boat
I had my first taste of boating on the ocean – in Casco Bay – in a 14-foot 420 sailboat owned by the University of Maine sailing club. It was a glorious spring day, and we sailed from Falmouth to Jewell Island, to Peaks Island, and back to Falmouth. I was hooked, and I dreamed of someday owning a sailboat I could sail on the ocean.
Following my graduation from the University of Maine, I started collecting sailboat brochures, and soon a college friend and I decided to buy a Tanzer 22 together. Since he was single, it fell on me to convince only one more person, so one night I suggested, "Honey, let's get a boat." My new wife had harbored her own dream of us learning to snow ski, but I countered, "You like being at the beach; wouldn't it be great to sail to great places on the ocean?" I guess I was convincing enough, since by spring we (now four of us as my friend had a girlfriend) were the proud owners of a used Tanzer 22.
The first sail was on a great spring day. It was warm on land, but I suggested to my wife that she bring some warm clothes. However, she announced she was bringing her bathing suit to get some sun. After we left the protected harbor and were struck by the first cold blast of Maine ocean air, Faye headed below. Back at the dock, she asked, "Where was the warm beach we talked about?"
Well, the warming, as usual, came later rather than sooner, but we had some fun sailing later that year. And we did find the beaches, so I was sure we'd made the right decision to buy a boat instead of a more dependable car or saving for a down payment on a house.
What can I say? I knew nothing of the rigors of sailing – or boating for that matter. I was very young and in the throes of our first year of marriage. The Captain was and is a great husband, so I said, "Whatever you want honey is okay with me." Big mistake!
My favorite story of the Tanzer 22 takes place on a windy day at the Handy Boat dock in Falmouth, Maine. The Captain, who is an excellent sailor, decided to test his skill at sailing up to the dock and "dumping the sails" to stop. I was not going to be part of this little maneuver so I said, "If you do this, I'm going down below and you'll get no help from me."
I guess he didn't care, because he did and I did, but he never did that again. Fortunately, he managed to miss the new Sabre 28 that was tied up to the dock.
The Next Boat
The Tanzer 22 served us well for about seven years. I was even able to get several extended five-day trips with friends, but we always were envious of people who could "stand up" in their cabins when changing clothes and making dinner. Our two boys were becoming larger all the time, and I could easily justify the need (versus want) of a larger boat. With the Admiral's blessing – OK, general acceptance – I began the hunt for the next boat.
The answer materialized in the form of a 10-year-old Pearson 26 – ah, what luxury. An electric-start outboard with an alternator to charge the batteries, standing headroom (in some parts), and a real head with a door instead of a curtain and a Porta-Potti under the V-berth gave us comforts beyond our wildest dreams.
The kids liked the larger boat. The V-berth became a favorite place, even under way. The closing door gave them a private place to play the radio, wrestle, laugh, and even take naps. The kids would appear at times and we'd all enjoy the sailing and tacking duels to get through the upwind passages into port on a sunny afternoon. The Admiral could be heard at times asking, "Do we have to tack again?"
The larger boat also increased our range by extending the period of time we could stay on the boat. At the same time, the kids were becoming more independent, which allowed them to get off on their own in the dinghy. These "alone trips" became great fun for them and a source of pride for me since I'd taught them to row and handle the motor.
But even with the larger boat, about three days was the maximum all of us could comfortably stay on the boat at a time. However, the Pearson 26 was large enough for a couple of guys to sail the coast of Maine. In what I still consider a great gift, the Admiral afforded me a week for many years to go with a buddy on a sailing trip. I still recall the first time I saw Pulpit Harbor, Perry's Creek, Stonington, Carvers Harbor, and Isle Au Haut.
When the kids went away to summer camp, the Admiral and I enjoyed extended time on the water with the Pearson 26. Our trips were generally much shorter than with my buddies, but every bit as enjoyable. But as with every boater, the allure of the next boat was always there. The longer trips with my buddies were great, but, I argued, we all could go for a week if we had a larger boat. So again, with the Admiral's incredible support (OK, acceptance), I set out to find the next boat.
When we bought the Pearson 26, our sons were about 6 and 8 years old and had fallen in love with sailing, too. I loved the ocean, but trying to use the head while under way left quite a bit to be desired. Since the rest of the family enjoyed sailing, I went along with spending all of our disposable income, such as it was at the time, on another boat. Someday, I would ask for payback; I just had to be patient.
To be fair, I did love the time together as a family, and I decided it was better than camping. My idea of camping is a Marriott without a pool – I even tried to convince myself that I had a floating Marriott with a real big pool.
The Captain and I did enjoy time alone on the boat when the kids would spend a week at summer camp. Our travel was limited to short time moving and maximum time relaxing including enjoying the sun I was promised those many years ago. A favorite spot was, and still is, Boothbay Harbor, a place that has just enough tourists, a great harbor for boaters, fun shops, nice restaurants, a bowling alley (with warped floors), and the best ice-cream shop in the world.
My favorite story about the Pearson 26 was the day the Captain turned my babies loose in the dinghy with only oars and an outboard that ran about a third of the time. In fact, it stalled just us they approached the boat. As the stiff breeze carried them away, I became furious. I demanded that the Captain do something, even if it meant diving overboard. But the Captain calmly explained that he had taught them to row, "so what was the problem?" The kids finally did get the oars out and rowed back to the boat. The Captain didn't know how close he'd come to being boatless.
The Last Sailboat
I enjoyed the Pearson 26 and thought Pearson made a good boat with nice sailing qualities at a reasonable price. Thus, we purchased a Pearson 34, and this boat enabled all of us to enjoy time on the boat together for longer periods of time. We even made it to Northeast Harbor on Mount Desert Island. However, the kids were now 15 and 14 and their interests were becoming more focused at home than on the water. One of the reasons we went to Northeast Harbor was that there was a phone there with which the kids could call their girlfriends.
The kids soon got jobs, which limited our time together even more. As such, my wife and I spent more time together on the boat. Now the kids were my crew (translate, reason to sail, and with the kids on the boat less, I motored more and more. Sometimes, we just wanted to get where we were going, and at other times, the Admiral had become really tired of actually sailing. Some weeks on the boat, we didn't even raise the sails.
After one of these weeks, I realized I'd become the owner of a powerboat with a big stick in the middle of it. Was it time to move on? We asked ourselves, and the answer seemed to be yes. After five years, we sold the Pearson 34, and for the first time in about 20 years, we were boatless.
The next summer we worked on the house doing things we'd neglected for years. The Admiral and I took trips, but we found that we always headed for the ocean. Our revelation came one day in the fall of our boatless year: We went for a ride with a friend on his powerboat. It was perfect weather day – cool but the sun was warm out of the wind sitting on the aft deck of the boat. The Admiral was hooked. She realized it wasn't boating with which she'd become disillusioned, it was the sailboat.
The powerboat provided a warm place in which to steer and ride; it went when you wanted it to; you could see out of it from inside; and, most importantly, it didn't lean over when you were in the bathroom (note the change of term from "head"). I even had to admit that I'd had enough cold days helming wearing everything I owned. The following winter involved many discussions about going over to the "darkside." Should we do it?
The year away from boating gave me time to reflect. I've always been drawn to the ocean. The experiences on the powerboat were surprising for me. I did not fully comprehend that it was the "outdoor" nature of sailing I disliked – not being on a boat. On the powerboat, I didn't have to go down below to try to get out of the cold weather. The enclosed flybridge was a great place to enjoy the ride. For the first time, I was able to sit back and enjoy the view in comfort. At anchor, we could sit and enjoy our surroundings. The large windows of the powerboat provided a great view if you stood up while inside and a bright atmosphere when seated.
Being able to enjoy the beauty of the ocean in a warm and comfortable environment was truly pleasurable. I found myself thinking about what it would be like to spend time on the water in a powerboat. I could picture myself making meals for us and our friends. I even imagined having the "someday" grandkids on the boat with us. When we drove to ocean places, I found myself saying, "It would be fun to come here by powerboat." Over the next winter I thought of the upcoming summer and owning a powerboat. I was ready to look at what the other side had to offer.
What? A Powerboat?
The winter gave me time to confirm that I really wanted to be back on the water – and that not sailing on it would be OK. We began a cautious hunt. I wanted the boat to be diesel-powered. The Admiral wanted room for the kids to visit.
We looked at trawler-styled boats like the Mainship 34 and the older Grand Banks 32 and 36. While each had good points, they were either too expensive or lacked the space we wanted. During our search, several people suggested we look at a Bayliner 38. It had twin diesels, two large staterooms, two bathrooms (I still call them "heads"), and an enclosed shower accessible from either stateroom.
One day in late May, we looked at one for the first time. The boat has a large U- shaped raised lounge. When seated, you have a clear 360-degree view of all that's going on. The Admiral sat down, surveyed the entire world, and declared, "I want one before July fourth." I was impressed with the general construction of the boat. The fit and finish is not to the standards of higher-priced boats, but it fit the budget. On June 18, the Admiral was back in command of her navy.
The boat I wanted needed to be comfortable and neat. I left the mechanical issues to the Captain. A good Admiral needs to learn to delegate. One day, the Captain said he'd arranged to look at a Bayliner 38. It looked nice as we approached it. It had an enclosed flybridge, a nice cockpit for sitting in the sun and a swim platform with transom door for easy boarding. First impressions are always important, and so far so good. The door to the cabin was directly from the cockpit. As I stepped in, I immediately noticed a large U-shaped lounge to port. I slipped into a corner spot and realized I could see completely in every direction. I could ride here, read here, eat here, and or just sit here and never miss a thing. The double cabins, two bathrooms (a luxury I didn't fully realize at the time), and full galley were just icing on the cake. I'd found my boat.
The first time we went for a ride in our powerboat, I knew I'd made a good decision. I now enjoyed the time on the boat; it was even pleasant on rainy days. The difference for me has been unimaginable. Being able to stay warm and upright has made all the difference. I used to fret about spending a week on the boat. Now I'm disappointed when our weeks end. I've found such a level of joy on the boat that the Captain and I are waiting for the day to sell the house and move on a boat full-time.
The Next 25 Years
Do I miss sailing now that I have a powerboat? In some ways I do. I don't feel as connected to my surroundings, particularly when anchored in a quiet cove. I also thought I was good sailor, and I miss the enjoyment of sailing on the perfect days that occur now and again in New England. But as I look forward to the next 25 years, I have to admit that the rigors of sailing would be much more difficult for me and the Admiral to deal with. I would also likely be doing it alone. Therefore, I have to say that I'm pleased with the transition from sail to power.
And if the Admiral is happy, I'm happy.
Ron and Faye are natives of Maine. Ron is a civil engineer, and Faye is a middle-school special-needs teacher. All of their boats have been named Perelandra. From their New Hampshire base, they cruise the Maine coast annually, including Boothbay Harbor for the Fourth of July.
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