Every boat has her own story.
This thought ran through my head recently as I looked over the fairways at my local marina. Several of the usual suspects floated in repose, reflecting the late-afternoon sun. I scanned the Hinckley Picnic Boat and her robin’s egg blue hull. I saw the late-model MJM and the smattering of outboard-powered craft. All are stunners in their own right, and all seem to have owners that dote on them.
But they were not what I was seeking. I’d have to come back.
What I was searching for were the migrating visitors. When I’m in New York City during the warmer months, I try and cycle by here every week to see which transient vessels are cooling their keels at the East River landing. I have my eyes out for the intrepid Great Loopers and other boaters who are passing through, as this marina is a fine option to wait out weather and take in the shoreside cultural offerings.
Last year, I was fortunate to meet some of these boaters and admire their steeds. A few tied up in Gotham: a mint Bayliner 4788, a Europa-style Island Gypsy 32 and a midnight blue Krogen Express. I remember the Mainship 400 with the Vespa scooter tucked in its cockpit, and the tiny-but-mighty Camano 31 Troll.
It was also here that I first saw the Lord Nelson Victory tug Lucy that would become one of Passagemaker’s most popular features of 2023, and a social-media starlet (if you are not there already, please follow @passagemakermag on Facebook and Instagram). I was lucky then, and the thought of spotting a rare bird like Lucy keeps me coming back.
But this year, I’ve been kicking rocks. No luck. Even so, just before I sat down to write this editor’s letter, I made another go of it.
And wouldn’t you know, we had a visitor.
She really stood out, with a merlot planked-style hull, just the right amount of brightwork, and a big sliding door next to her starboard helm. Her teak decks had grayed, but the trunk-cabin-style trawler wore her age well. A fixed cradle on the aft deck held a neat little rowboat that I imagined taking around anchorages with my dog, as my family slept in the mothership’s classic, varnished teak interior.
Was I looking at a Taiwan-built DeFever 41? I hung around a bit to see if the owner would come out, but no such luck. It would be gauche to tuck my business card onto the windshield, so I decided that I’d just have to come back and make friends another time.
I hope she’s still there.
This article was originally published in the November/December 2024 issue.
