The Boat Purchase Circa 2021

Ed Note: This is a longish post about the whole buying process for our new trawler First Light. The detailed information has been requested by many folks also looking, so bear with the history lesson necessary to explain what buying a trawler looks like in  2021.

The first boat we ever bought, our Compac 27 named Nomad, was our "starter" boat, our learning boat. The Compac was perfect for that since she was a stout, forgiving design. She was already located in the marina where we wanted to be on Carlyle Lake in Illinois, an hour's drive from St. Louis where we lived. The price was a stretch for us at the time, but we decided to proceed anyway. The owner of the boat had properly prepared her for an extended time on the hard because he was away—he left her fully shrink-wrapped and in the care of a local broker who also had a boat in the same marina. We didn't hire a buyer's broker, we didn't do a survey, and the whole transaction took less than two weeks. Boat US insured us even with no survey and no prior experience other than ASA101, ASA103, and ASA 104. Such is the way with less expensive starter boats. Such is the way with boat purchases circa 2008.

The problem with Nomad's purchase going so smoothly is that it left us ill-prepared for the purchase that Kintala would be. We were completely unprepared for the purchase of a serious cruising boat. We had no knowledge of surveys, or big-boat brokers, or over-land transportation, or the types of problems that the many new systems of a serious cruising boat would bring. We were bringing our aviation world expectations into the cesspool of marine world realities. While we made it work, and enjoyed 6 wonderful years of full-time cruising, it cost us dearly—in physical, emotional, and financial hardship. Vowing to try to help others not to make those same mistakes, we wrote How NOT to Buy a Cruising Boat. 

As we sold Kintala and moved back on land to refill the cruising kitty, we began to think about the transition to a trawler. The last year we sailed had been a sort of survey of our future plans. We were asking every trawler operator we could find if they were sailors in the past and how they felt about the transition. To a person they all said they wished they had done it sooner. The plan then was pretty firmly ensconced in our minds as we sold Kintala, but the timing had yet to be determined.

Right before the Covid lockdowns were declared, we took our Trawler School in Biscayne Bay, FL. In fact, the lockdowns were declared while we were anchored in No-Name Harbor enjoying a sundowner. We realized immediately that this would put a wrench in our works, so the plan kind of went on hold till we could see what was happening. Not a bad plan, because more time = more money in the cruising kitty. 

Even as Covid put a damper on the plans for over a year, we began to spend a significant amount of our spare time on Yachtworld again looking for what might be the "perfect" trawler. We realized after the trawler school that it would take some time to decide what style of trawler would fit our lifestyle the best. We were being slow, cautious, and vowing not to repeat the same mistakes detailed so painstakingly in our book.

Once Covid became the New Normal, we started to seriously look around a bit. The market was going insane with all the available boats going to people who had decided that 1) since they had to work remotely anyway due to Covid they could do that from a boat and social distance at the same time and 2) since life was uncertain, to say the least, then maybe they shouldn't put off the dream of living on a boat and should do it now. Boats were being sold sight unseen. Boats were going for over the listing price in bidding wars.

Last year we saw an ad for a Golden Star Sundeck 38 that happened to be in our area. We took the grandkids with us to see it. We liked it, they liked it, and we put an offer in on it. The owner was asking way too much money for it (the insurance company wouldn't insure it for what he was asking for it) and our offer was a lowball one in consideration. He soundly declined the offer and we moved on. (Lesson One from our book—always be prepared to walk away.)

Over the next year, we went to Kentucky Lake to look at a couple boats, did a virtual tour on one in Stuart, FL, and conversed with brokers on several others. At this point I was tiring of the process and I think we were coming to the conclusion that we would just have to wait till the market calmed down a bit. I decided to set up a search alert on Yachtworld, just so that I wouldn't miss something if it came along. A couple months later I got an alert on First Light.  It ticked all the boxes but one, so we decided that it would be worth taking a look at. I talked to the broker less than 24 hours after the listing went live. He explained that we could make an offer sight unseen, then make arrangements to come see the boat and if we didn't like it we could walk away at that point with nothing lost. We put the offer in.

Deciding what to offer is always the purchaser's dilemma. In any sane market, a buyer would offer 10% less than asking price. In this market? We offered the asking price. It was a fair price for the boat, and with a full-price offer we would have more room to negotiate on survey items. The offer was accepted, we made arrangements to go to the boat that weekend, and off we went. As we drove, we talked a lot about the decision. The boat was at the high-end limit of what we were able to spend, but it had everything on it that we would have to have added to a lower-cost boat: radar, solar, AIS, air conditioning, a full-size fridge, the teak was all freshly done, the bottom was freshly painted, it had a brand new dinghy and the exact outboard we would have chosen. I had looked at several boats in the mid-40's to mid-50's that we would have to have spent another 25 grand to get all that installed. Granted, the equipment would be new instead of a few years old, but the amount of work involved and our bones accumulating years made the decision an easy one. The hardest part of the decision was the location of the boat. Having a boat that was that far away was not ideal, but all other things considered we decided it was worth it.

Timing has been a huge question of many prospective buyers, so here is the detailed breakdown of our purchase. The whole purchase process took close to 2 months. We placed the offer in on August 6th and was accepted August 8th. The time delay was due to the fact that the seller was living in Japan at the time. We visited the boat the following weekend and agreed to purchase. The longest delay was in securing a surveyor as many are booked out for 3 months but, after a good many phone calls, we were able to get one to the boat September 1st. The next delay was in waiting for the oil sample reports to come back. By the 4th of September we had all in hand, made our offer for the survey adjustments—which was accepted— and signed the conditional acceptance on the 4th. The buyer's closing statement was signed on September 17th. Insurance was procured on the 17th (another post coming on the insuring process) and the closing was the 22nd.

So here's the takeaway from the whole process:

First of all, I can't say enough good about Lars at Curtis Stokes Yachts. In our case, we didn't have to have a buyer's broker because two of their brokers were co-brokering the boat because the one is new and wanted a more experienced broker to help him through the process. The trainee acted as the listing broker and the more experienced broker acted as the buyer's broker. In every step of the process he was professional, courteous, responded immediately to all of my questions, and followed through on all the actions necessary to close the sale. In addition to that, he acted as the captain on our sea trial and did one of the most amazing jobs of piloting a boat in close quarters that I have ever seen. It was clear that Curtis Stokes has very high standards and trains their brokers well. The customer service was unparalleled.

Second, Kathy, the office manager of the marina where the boat was—Duck Creek Marina in New Bern, NC—was hugely responsible for how smoothly the purchase went. As a customer service manager for nearly 30 years, customer service is the most important aspect of any interaction I have with a place, and Kathy took it to new levels of competence. She was ever so patient with my questions, and there were many. I can't stress how important it is to have good, capable people to deal with in any purchase, but especially long-distance ones.

Third, be sure to write down all of your questions as you think of them. When you are at the boat with many distractions, you will forget. Carry around a small notebook and pen with you and write down everything. What you need to do, what you need to ask, what you need to buy. Be sure to get a specific timeline from the broker on what is expected of you. Make no assumptions, and be proactive. You are your best advocate in the purchase of your boat.

Fourth, just a list of some of the steps/considerations/requirements involved in buying a boat for those of you for whom it's a first time:

• The offer
• The acceptance of the offer
• The visit to the boat
• The Purchase and Sale Agreement (PSA)
• Deposit funds transfer (usually 10% of purchase price)
• The survey: hull, mechanical, rigging (if sail), fluid analysis
• Fluid analysis if not included in the mechanical survey
• A boat history report
• Survey allowance offer (amount reduced from offer for items on survey that require attention)
• Buyer's closing statement
• Insurance procurement
• Funds transfer to escrow
• Closing
• State sales tax
• Local sales tax (not required in some states like NC)
• Personal property tax (done by county and city both in NC so some marinas have both and some only have county)
• State registration
• USCG documentation
• Dinghy registration
• Dinghy sales tax

Making yourself a checklist is a great idea. I have a multi-section, spiral-bound notebook that I used with one section dedicated to each item I needed to take care of. This gave me plenty of room to make notes on phone calls with prospective vendors to deal with each item.

Navigating a boat purchase can be difficult. Find well-qualified people that you can work with, be detail-oriented and proactive and hopefully it will all go smoothly.

Now I get to start the Boat Projects section in the notebook...

Kintala sails away

After nearly a year and a half, with one attempt derailed by an incompetent surveyor, Kintala, our faithful Tartan 42, has become the apple of a brand new owner’s eye. It is said that the two happiest days of a boater’s life are the day the boat is bought, and the day the boat is sold. I am not finding that to be the case.

Kintala was our full-time liveaboard home for nearly 6 years. For two years before that she taught us the trials of getting an older boat ready to go cruising, and the triumphs of mastering her racing-like sailing character. She carried us to the Islands, kept us safe in 60 knot blows while riding to her anchor, and shrugged off 10+ foot seas on more than one occasion. Most importantly she taught us things about ourselves that we could not have learned from any other tutor; she fundamentally changed the way we approached life, and forever altered the way we look at the world.

Before Kintala, I was the quintessential US citizen / consumer. I owned a sports car, a pick-up truck, a collection of motorcycles, and a boat. We lived in a nice condo with a shop in the garage out back, traveled on vacations, and watched movies and sports on a big screen TV mounted to the wall perpendicular to a working fire place. Though not rich by America standards, we lived pretty well compared to the rest of the world’s population. 

To the vast majority of human kind that has walked the earth in the past, we would have been magicians. Our sculptured cave was heated and cooled on a whim and we traveled across the ground at breakneck speeds in or on thundering hunks of metal. I made a living flying… FLYING! Eight miles in the sky, covering hundreds of miles in less than an hour, and doing so night and day with (what would appear) little thought given to the weather. Rain, snow, wind, and clouds? Pfftt. I even flew OVER thunderstorms and looked down on the lightning with utter impunity. 

And, somewhere deep in my American soul, I believed I had earned such an exulted place all on my own. I had what I had, and I deserved it. But then we sold off everything except some clothes, tools, and knick-knacks, moved onto Kintala full time, and took to the sea.

Very quickly we became different people living in a different world. Kintala kept us safe in some ugly weather, but very often we didn’t feel safe. Instead we felt exposed, out on the edge, not sure of what the outcome would be. Afterwards, such moments make for great stories and indelible memories, but…”Pfffttt” was an attitude long forgotten. We no longer lived in a sculptured cave − dry, stable, heated and cooled on a whim. Every wind shift, current change, tide, and passing wake rocked, swung and tilted our world. “Stable” became a relative term. Were we holding on with both hands, finding it hard to walk, or catching things being flung off of shelves? No? Then what movement we did feel was “stable enough.” Some nights, sleep was elusive because of the sweat running down our backs and soaking the sheets. Other nights we huddled under every blanket we could scrounge, loathe to get out of the berth in the morning because we could see our breath floating toward the salon in the frigid air. We often sailed our boat cold and hungry, hot and thirsty, and soaking wet when we couldn’t outrun the rain.

We sailed to the Islands and lived for months with people who could barely fathom our riches. We lived on a YACHT, and didn’t have to work to put food on the table. That everything we owned fit into some 400 square feet was still more opulence than many of our new friends could ever hope to see. Yet they were just like me, working as hard as they could to make ends meet, worried about the people they loved, and doing what they could to make things a little better in their community. It quickly became overwhelmingly clear that I didn’t “deserve” what I had. My exalted place among human kind was a matter of a lucky birth, meeting and falling in love with the right person and - most importantly - having that person love me back. Sure we made some good decisions and worked hard. But pretty much everybody we met while causing made the best decisions they could make and worked just as hard.

As the years went by, the American consumer in me faded away. I became just another wanderer in a world filled with beauty and risk, quiet anchorages and 10 foot seas. I came to suspect that dolphins and whales might be smarter than humans, certainly wiser. I started to wonder if the main reason we can’t communicate with them is that they are so far beyond us in fitting into the cosmos that we humans just don’t have the necessary vocabulary. It may be that they don’t have thumbs and can’t make tools, but has our tool making made us smarter or wiser? Or have we just constructed a civilization that is unsustainable and built the weapons useful only for doing ourselves in?

Out in big water in our little boat, I realized the ocean cared nothing about my opinions about anything. Then I started to realize that most of my opinions didn’t matter anyway, were likely pretty foolish and uninformed, and usually tainted with more than a bit of hubris. The ocean will ferret out any incompetence, but it hasn’t a care about me being competent…or not. The same is true of the sky, of course. But I tangled with the sky in some of the most sophisticated machines human kind has ever invented, backed by a network of weather stations, specialists, airports, and experts. 

Kintala was an old sailboat with a tired motor. The skills necessary to make her go were learned thousands of years ago. Had a sailor from the 1400s magically appeared on our deck, he would not have thought us magicians. He would have known instantly if our sails needed trimmed or reefed, took one look at the night sky and known in what direction we were headed. As for the rest of it? Weather stations don’t pick up rogue waves or 40 knot winds falling out of a clear, calm night sky for reasons no can explain even to this day. The experts and specialists were out of phone and radio range. The next port, if more than 50 miles away was, in all likelihood, more than a day away as well. The hubris of land living is a hard act to maintain out in big water in a little boat. 

Life unfolded as it will, and now we find ourselves back on land. We have added a few possessions. A car is necessary, some bikes as well. We bought some used musical instruments to fill our days with a new skill of making some modest music. But we rent our two room flat, still don’t own a TV and, for the most part, keep to ourselves and family. We are happy and contented minimalists, living as lightly as we can in a burdensome world. 

And Kintala is no longer ours. Something that, at one point in the last few years, I would have thought very unlikely. I was a sailor, and I lived on a boat named Kintala. Now I am not, and I don’t. And I'm not sure what that means or where it leaves me. As to what comes next? I can’t really say. 

For I am just another wanderer in a world full of beauty and risk, quiet anchorages, and 10 foot seas. 

The first day we saw her.

Lowering Kintala into Carlyle Lake, her home for the two years we prepped to go cruising.

Motoring her from the lift pit to her new home on Carlyle Lake

Her first dock. Yes, she was the largest boat on the lake by quite a bit. It took a shoe horn to get her into that slip

One of our first sails on Lake Carlyle, long before the dodger and new bimini.

Sailing on Lake Carlyle, long before the dodger.

One of our excellent sails on Carlyle.

As good as it gets

Learning how to use the whisker pole

First sail with all of the grandkids.

The first dinner on the newly installed table

New cushions installed

Installing the best piece of equipment we ever bought - the Mantus anchor.

Time to head for warmer waters!!!

The Blessing of the Boats at Carlyle right before we left to go cruising

Our cruising sendoff with good friends John, Nancy and David

Our first anchorage cruising

Lots and lots of miles motoring on the Intercoastal Waterway

The first of hundreds of bridges we would pass under and through with Kintala.
The Chesapeake Bay Bridge in Annapolis

And more bridges...

Some of the ICW was a challenge in fog

Lots and lots of fabulous sunsets

And moon rises...

Our first lock experience

Friends that accompanied us on our first offshore passage from Charleston to Fernandina Beach

And "friends" that met us in Florida...

Our favorite anchorage in No-Name Harbor in Miami

No-Name Harbour

Dinner Key Moorings and the frequent storms there. This was the Mother Ship.

Kintala and the Mantus held fast through this one.

Prepped for her first hurricane, Joaquin

Didn't get us away from the storms, though...

Anchored outside of Hopetown. So glad we got to see it before hurricane Dorian.

Met by a new friend

And more friends

And more friends...

And yet even more friends

Kintala was often a sail loft with the Sailrite machine working hard

One of the many hitchhikers we had during our travels

West End Bahamas before Dorian. One of our favorite places in the Bahamas

And someday we hope to end up back here in whatever boat takes us there.