disengage.ca a quest for the technomadic lifestyle

S/V Tie Fighter

On May 1st 2009, I officially moved aboard my sailboat 'Tie Fighter' fulltime.

S/V Tie Fighter at rest in the White Rock sunset

She is a Brown Searunner 37, a sailing trimaran modified by the original owner to be thirty-nine feet long, twenty-three feet wide, and yet she only drafts about eighteen inches with her swing keep up.  She is cutter rigged and has a center cockpit, meaning her mast is closer to the middle of the boat than your typical sailboat and she flies three sails rather than just two.  She has somewhere around six hundred square feet of deck space, enough to comfortably host fifteen or more people for summer sunset cruises.

Dual cabins, fore and aft, dual diesel furnaces for warmth, a 35-horsepower Yanmar inboard diesel engine, and tonnes and tonnes of space for storage.  Outfitted for offshore, she could easily handle a crew of four for a month or more.

That's not to say she came without problems - a boat of this size and pedigree should cost somewhere between $75k and $150k, whereas I got her for - oh, just around the price of a Volkswagen Jetta.  Which I think is pretty appropriate, given that I'm thirty-three years old and have never owned a car.  However, the guy I bought her from had only had her a year, with the intention of fixing her up from the previous owner's complete lack of upkeep, but he decided that he didn't have the time or energy to pour into her.  At least, that's what he told me - the past few months I've poured my heart, soul and wallet into her, getting her up to the point where I'm now finally comfortable taking her out into the open ocean.  There are still many, many projects to tackle, but the lists of "needs" is now much shorter than the list of "wants".

She is a wooden boat, built of marine-grade plywood and cedar struts, covered with epoxy and fiberglass.  There is a great deal of controversy around wooden boats vs. the more modern fiberglass hulls, with each side having valid points.  Some of the more nostalgic (or perhaps senile) old salts claim that wooden boats, being made from living material, have a soul.  I would scoff, but for the sense of safety and well-being I get when I am aboard her.

I have literally put my blood, sweat and tears into fixing her up - the work has been physically and mentally exhausting, but it has also been incredibly rewarding.  For instance, in the past fifteen years of my professional career, I cannot point to a single thing that I have built that is older than three years.  Hundreds or thousands of hours poured into projects, each slowly becoming obsolete and retired or deleted.  Working on Tie Fighter has been incredibly empowering - there has been a hugely steep learning curve, but the more I learn, the more I realize that there is not a system on this vessel that I cannot become the master of.  I never thought I'd be a diesel engine guy, nor did I ever really have a drive to (pardon the pun), but I know that with effort I will be able to learn.  I have become quite proficient with epoxy and fiberglass repairs, 12V electrical systems design and maintenance, and my wood shop classes from junior high are coming back to me, albeit slowly.

Ever since moving aboard, my life has been a constant running adventure.  I am in love with my ship.