The size of a corner

The port side of the salon as viewed
from the cockpit outside

Long ago in a class room far, far away, a math teacher once claimed that a true corner has no size. Most of the things called “corners” are actually arcs or bends, gentle or sharp, but still a change in direction whose length is easily measured. A corner is an abrupt change, a break in a straight line or, (as he described it) an intersection of two lines. Lines he defined as being an infinite collection of infinitesimally small points without width, height, or length. One such a point defines any true corner. Thus a corner is a thing without a size. Not being any kind of mathematician I will not vouch for his claim.

The first thing we noticed the first time boarded First Light was a salon stuffed with furniture. The starboard side was filled to overflowing with an enormous couch, one so large that entering through the aft sliding door meant walking around the edge of the thing. The port side wasn't quite as stuffed, but an imposing chair along with the folding ship's table left little room to spare. A narrow path separated the two areas. And the color? Not sure what one would call it, but it and my eyes did not make friends. I am sure the previous owner was quite content with the set-up and to each her (or his) own. Still, the first thing we did after handing over enough cash to make the boat ours was hire a couple of fit young men to lift couch and chair off the boat, toss them in a truck, and take them far, far away. 

Two deck chairs took up residence on the port side, along with a stack of parts bins in one corner and the folding boat table sitting against the forward bulkhead. It was the only space on the boat for Deb and I to sit, eat, and practice music. The starboard side became home for the imposing collection of tools, parts, and materials needed to get an on-the-hard-for-two-years trawler ready for service. The pile went from steering station to aft bulkhead, was piled nearly as high as the windows, and nudged right up against the floor panels that lift to access the engine room. Not an ideal working or living arrangement. It is impossible to cozy up to the one you love when each is sitting in a deck chair feeling the wear and tear of a long work day. And there have been many a moment when it felt like I was spending more time rooting through a junk pile for some particular tool than was spent using that tool after finally locating it. I love working on a project sitting in the middle of a well organized shop. The boat was a seriously disorganized shop sitting in the middle of a project. Living happened along the edges...about the worst conditions imaginable for either shop or living space.

From day one Deb has been on the lookout for new furniture, and many an hour has passed as we looked online for something that appeared “right”. Nothing was found that fit the bill. This trip, while in a store looking for something else, a one-off outdoor couch set-up sitting on display caught her attention. The next day we drove over to take another look. Being an out-door thing it was made of wicker and, compared to the old couch, was light as a feather. In addition it was built with a massive amount of storage under each leg of the “L” to store the cushions out of the weather. Even better, the lids ride on gas cylinders. No need to hold them up with your head while rummaging around looking for something. Moreover it was a color that would look good on the boat, was a comfortable sit, and long enough for a nap. After a bit of debate the decision was made to fork over the listed $$$, rent a pick-up for a couple of hours, and take the thing back to the boat yard.

 

Lifting it onboard was a breeze, as was dropping it in place. One leg of the “L” fit the length of the port bulkhead to, literally, within an inch. The other leg of the “L” spanned the aft salon bulkhead just short of where the sliding door opens; thus making it a perfect place to sit and shed boots or shoes before traipsing deeper into the living space. The folding boat table sits perfectly in the crux of the “L”. 

Virtually all of the tools, parts, and supplies disappeared into just one of the storage sections. The other easily held the six sections of the back porch sun screen plus the exterior covers for both the front windscreen and the back door...with room to spare. I am not sure we could have sat down and custom designed something that fit this close or worked this well. And Deb stumbled upon the only one like it in the world while looking for something else. What are the odds?

Even with the deck chairs still serving as additional seating on the starboard side, the work space / disaster area has been utterly transformed into a near magical space. And thus it is that we turned a huge corner. (Sorry Teach!) No longer a shop, or a project; not just another boat...but a home.