On our way up the coast Chin Chin and I got the bright idea to check in to the marine we visited two years ago. Almost two years ago today I had my heart stolen from me, I visited a boat I found for sale that sounded like the perfect living situation. Chin and I skipped a pirate event to go take a peek at a possible change of lifestyle. We found to our amazement, a wonderful custom 53 foot wood pirate ship. Through a bit of luck we actually stayed the night aboard. The unfortunate part.. She needed a lot of work. Insides were beyond compare. This was no longer a boat but a work of art. This was clearly someones child. The outsides were left in the rain neglected. She was starting to rot from the outside in. Chin and I calculated the risks.. The massive mountain of work it would take to repair her to her real glory. It would be worth it. Every penny, every back breaking day in the sun removing panels, repairing the deck, sanding, painting.. Her price tag was relatively modest considering she was a one of a kind, even sweeter. The mission began to purchase the then named Roraldo II . with little knowledge on how to finance a boat of such calabar and age, I have fisted my way through every bank and financial building I could on the west coast. Time had drawn out and it was clear we would not be able to come up with the requested money. This still did not stop me, I checked in weekly with the owner to see if other people had purchased her or not. Checked up on current work being done to get her in to a better sellable condition. Over the winter she was pulled from the water. A man was selected from an approved list left by the Roraldos builder, to repair the hull below the water line. Thats when the worst news I could get came to me. The price, from the first listing of $40,000 skyrocketed to $190,000 ! This was a dream that clearly was only that. And it has skipped completely from my grasps. Knowing the amount of work that still needed to go in topside, she easily needed another 40k in repairs to the top. I let the communication slip. I stopped checking in, stopped reaching out to banks and boat moorages. Stopped prepping for the idea.. And I let it rot. Fast forward two years. We have purchased and moved on to our own boat. Living aboard is everything I want IG to be save for the fact.. Its not on the Roraldo.. Not on my pirate ship. As we were headed back from a pirate weekend, SDCC, and an amazing time in LA for chins birthday and great friends. We found our way up the coast. On highway 101 and past the southern Oregon marina that once held our dream. We decided to stop in. We circled the marina, checked the dry dock and storage. No sign of her. Perhaps she had been picked up. Someone else had the dream and was able to make it come true. Perhaps they did what we could not and restored this work of art to her proper glory and put the kind of love and care needed in to her.. Thats when we saw her. On the end of the last slip out of the marina. I was stupefied, fumbling to park the car and trying to get out with my seatbelt still buckled. The pirate in me said this is your chance mate, shes a sparkling gaff rigger, just waiting for sea. The pirate in me talked about grand thoughts, Commender this vesicle, toss the mooring lines and bring her in to the open ocean. Properly pirate this damn ship. The dream was alive again! Just like that everything came rushing back. It was intoxicating, like such little time and too much rum. As we came down the dock, closer, the dream started to turn. Dark, decrepit, and vile. Anger.. That was the feeling, pure anger. After two years, the promise of repairs and a quadrupled price tag, this... This is how she is left. Waiting to sink. I thought I had known heartache. I thought I had known betrayal. My previous experiences with these things were a simple childs game to what was before my eyes. We said our goodbyes to the Roraldo. To sick to stand next to her any longer. The voice of my inner pirate yelling at me fire up the engine, start the pumps, shes a derelict! Salvage HER! SAVE HER! I convinced the first mate, the engine wont start.. If it did, she wouldnt make it out of the marina,let alone over the bar and in to the Columbia. Shes doomed mate. Let her rest. The voyage would be the death of her. And likely us. With heavy hearts Chin and I left the dock. Loaded up in the car and started home. Pirate songs on the radio. Thank god the Mary Ellen Carter was not on our playlist. I Dont think we could have handled it. We decided that would be her name. Or rather should still be. While its dark and dreary, the dream still lives on. Sleep well MEL.
Posted on: Sat, 02 Aug 2014 21:49:47 +0000