by Guest Columnist John Bell
I just came in from putting the first spot of paint on Mr. Moon, my
AF4. The whole time I was painting, I was thinking about how
satisfying the job was. And how some parts of boatbuilding stir the
soul more than others. Dipping a clean brush into the can the first
time, spreading the color lovingly over the hull you've labored
over for so long, and watching it erase the epoxy drips, the pencil
marks, the filled holes that took so long to sand smooth, it just
feels good. It feels like progress; it feels like the end of the
road is in sight; it feels like accomplishment. It is just plain
Other parts of boatbuilding give me that same feeling. There's the
day you first put rule, pencil, and saw to wood. The day you get
enough of the bits built to pull the hull into shape. And of course
the day you carry her down to the water and push her off where she
is floating on her own. You step aboard and this lovely creature
that you created with your hands and heart and sweat comes alive
for the first time, dancing, bobbing, surging, and laughing with
the wind, waves, and water. That feels good, too.
I started to build boats because I wanted a boat. Now, almost three
boats later I see there has got to be a bigger reason to build
them: I build them because I'm addicted to that feeling.
What about you? And if you're still thinking about it, why not
start? It's a thrill you won't get anywhere else.
|Y'all play nice!
John Bell <><
and "Mr. Moon"