Decades earlier I had done this same area in a 13-foot Grumman rowboat that could be sailed. Someone, somewhere, I reasoned, must make a sailboat that fit my criteria:
- Shallow draft so it could go almost anyplace a canoe could go.
- Good carrying capacity. One problem in this area is that you must bring your own fresh water. A full third of the load in my canoe had always been water.
- Some way to stay aboard the boat if forced to by circumstances.
- Alternative propulsion. Rowable and also designed to take an outboard.
I had owned, in my lifetime, enough trailerable boats, sail and motor, to fill a strip-mall parking lot. And now I had in mind a Drascombe Lugger, a 15-footer with good lines, simple sail plan, oars and a motor well aft. But they were no longer made in England, though I understood that someone in Australia was still making a few. I set out to locate a used one. Meantime I visited the St. Petersburg Sailboat Show and stumbled upon the Sea Pearl 21. It was not only perfect, it was better than perfect.
It had wonderful lines, essentially a small—if a 21-foot daysailor can be called small—whaleboat. I didn't see Quequeeg standing in the bow with a harpoon, but I bet Quequeeg would have approved. It also had oars. It had a place for a motor. It was big enough, and had a coaming high enough, to keep me dry. I have had small sailboats where the first thing you did before launching was to put on a wet suit. Best of all, it had its own tent-cabin. And it was built by Marine Concepts, almost next door in Tarpon Springs.
Ron Johnson, the Marine Concepts owner, took me out for a ride a few weeks later. At the end we ran up on a beach and he asked me what I thought.
"I want this boat," I said.
He dragged out a clipboard with a purchase order form. "And what color do you want? And we have some options…"
"Ron, you're not listening to me," I said. "I want this boat."
"You can't have this one," he protested. "This is the factory demo."
"Ron," I said, "everything is for sale. And you told me a half hour ago that you had promised to build a trimaran version for Sammye, your wife. Your profit on this boat will cover your costs for that."
I was soon the proud owner of Black Pearl, a boat made famous by having been written up in several small-boat-sailing books. Sammye had to wait a few years for her trimaran and I teased her each time I saw her, asking if Ron was yet building her the boat I had paid for. I sailed Black Pearl quite happily for about four years. Problem was, I had also joined a sailing club with larger boats, in the 30-44 foot range. I sailed with them two weekends a month, canoed one weekend, sailed Black Pearl one weekend. I was awfully fiberglassed-up. Once per month was not enough to justify the equipment and I took Black Pearl home to the boatyard in Tarpon Springs and told Jim Leet, who had taken over the business, to sell her. One of my friends once asked me if I ever regretted my decision. "Hell, I was crying as I drove away," I remember saying, "But it was the right decision at the time."
And so it was. But times change and there is a season for big boats and a season for simplicity. Sailing in a circle in the Gulf of Mexico, with maybe a longer trip every six months, has not lost it appeal. But it has lost its primary place. I also decided to look for a boat on which I could live. If I must explain that I am single, then you don't know about living aboard boats, especially sailboats that have the internal accommodations of a Volvo. Nevertheless, I looked. I looked for a year, not being one to make sudden moves. What I found was that (a) living in a sailboat really is like living in a trailer that can also sink, (b) the slips on the west coast of Florida are vanishing fast and the remaining ones cost as much to rent (or own) as a house and (c) if you wish to be a "liveaboard" then divide the available slips by ten and multiply the cost by two.
Such was the depth of my shame and degradation, I confess, that my final two large-boat choices were a houseboat and a trawler. No sailboat had the internal space I wanted. The houseboat came with a king-size master bedroom, a bath, and a Subzero refrigerator in the kitchen (not galley; kitchen. Like with cooking island). The trawler was more of a boat and had something the houseboat lacked: two immense diesels that could punch it clear to Spain if I wanted to go there—and if it just would not run out of fuel ten miles east of Miami's Government Cut. But, no, this was, for me, the season for small and simple. What my search for a liveaboard boat did was make me revisit the subject of the small, trailerable, beachable, campable sailboat. And the best small sailboat I had ever known was a Sea Pearl.
Black Pearl was still in the boatyard, hardly having been moved in the three years since I sold it. I had first thought to buy it back. But the owner would not sell and, after I saw how it had deteriorated, I didn't want it back. I told Jim Leet to build me a new Sea Pearl.
I realize this flies in the face of boat logic that says to let the other guy take the major depreciation—and to buy used. But I knew exactly what I wanted. I also knew the cost is a bit deceptive. I bought Black Pearl for $7500 and sold it four years later for $7000—plus I added a new $800 outboard and some other items. Amortized cost for four years of fun was maybe $2000 total. A new Sea Pearl with all the gewgaws on it that I wanted was $20,000 but I can likely sell it in four years for somewhere in the $16,000 range. We shall see. Meantime, near the end of my year-long boat search I had transferred $50,000 from my mutual funds to my bank account as I narrowed my search to some liveaboard boats I might need to move quickly on. So, I figured, I had been willing to fork over 50K, was, in fact, getting away with 20K for a boat that had no slip fees or bottom paint costs, and I was way ahead on the bargain.
So Marine Concepts (which is to say, Jim Leet and a couple other guys) built Shadow, my beautiful new Sea Pearl. (NOTE: As I am the webmaster here, there are a lot of photos of Shadow on this Marine Concepts web site.) I took Shadow home and, even before I sailed it, added a lot of touches I had liked on Black Pearl. When outfitting a new boat, having owned an identical boat before is a huge help.
I promised first impressions. Here are some, from sailing both Black Pearl and Shadow:
— It is a real joy to sail a fast boat. And Sea Pearls are very fast indeed. Theoretically, the top hull speed is just under six knots, and Sea Pearls routinely do five. But I have had them up to seven and eight. Eight knots gets a little intimidating even as it is exhilarating. I have sailed in the Gulf of Mexico, in a 3-foot sea, head-to-head against a Cheoy Lee 34. I could edge him out on the tacks where I could ride the waves; he edged me slightly when we took the waves on the bows and the Sea Pearl's light weight affected it. I could sail circles (and did) around a 41-foot sailboat in light air. At our trailer-sailor meets and at larger events like the May Cedar Key gatherings of small boats, the Sea Pearls always smoke all the other boats.
— There is a trade-off for that speed. Sea Pearls are long and skinny—and tippy. Oh, they are unlikely to tip over (I am one of the few to manage that incredible feat and I was being a complete jerk at the time in a race). But they are sensitive and people not accustomed to them are nervous at first. It's mostly psychological; Ron Hoddinot, commodore of the West Coast (Florida) Trailer Sailors said the thing was to tell your guests that you had a sailing canoe. Then they would say, "Oh, this is so stable for a canoe." While if you told them they were going out on a sailboat they would say, "Oh, this seems very tippy for a sailboat." The boat actually has the same hull lines as my canoe, what we call "reserve stability." The rail goes down easily at first but, as the boat puts its shoulder into the sea, it stiffens and gets harder to heel. Most boats have a beam-to-length ratio of about 33 percent. A Sea Pearl is more like 26 percent. But I used to sail with the lee rail under water and the ocean pouring down the deck and out the drain in the self-bailing rear cockpit and still it never turned over. I don't do that any more; it's stupid and makes the boat sail poorly in exchange for being a bit of a show-off.
— For camping, it's wonderful. For one person. There is a tent-cabin. I have plenty of room for the food, water, stove, everything one needs to camp. There's even a porta-potty. And it all stows away during the day. At night I drop anchor wherever I find a good spot and I have no bugs and no hassles with campsite permits, and my tent door is always facing the wind.
— Launching is one of the best things. I used to spend 45 minutes rigging much smaller sailboats at boat ramps. I can rig and launch the Sea Pearl, by myself, in ten minutes flat—faster if I don't bother to step the masts. Which brings me to: The masts can be stepped or taken down while underway. No waits at bridges or having to find a bridge that raises.
— The leeboards took some getting accustomed to, first time I tried them years ago. I felt at first that the boat was trying to trip over the leeboard. But within a few minutes I no longer noticed it. And every centerboard sailboat I have ever owned developed, sooner or later, a leak around the base of the centerboard trunk--not to mention the occasional spray out the top if the top was at all open. The leeboards are free to "wing out" to the sides and so suffer no untoward strain. The bottom of each leeboard is lead and they weigh about 30 pounds apiece, of beefy construction and heavy enough to act as a bit of keel, and not just a lightweight centerboard. Some owners sail with both boards down, saving them some heavy lifting. I once experimented and it seemed, in the conditions of that day, that each board cost a half-knot in speed. But there are so many variables that this sort of rule is subjective. Other owners routinely drop both boards after beaching, to hold the boat in place. This is likely entirely harmless but I don't like to do it.
— "Thin water," both vertically and horizontally: Remember that I wanted (and, according to Ron Hoddinot, got) a big sailing canoe. One old salt said I seemed able to sail on a heavy dew. I love sailing across the flats, standing up at the tiller, looking down as the grass and fish pass by inches below the boat. I love sailing through passages in the mangrove forests hardly wider than the boat. I'm hard on Sea Pearls in this way. The bottom gets scratches from oyster bar encounters, the sails get ripped by tree limbs. I carry a long bamboo pole that I use more than my oars. I have been known to drop both leeboards while motoring up some narrow everglades creek, to warn me of slow moving manatee so I can kill the engine in time.
— The small but important details. Things like: the outboard motor mounted on the rudderstock permitting steering by the tiller. This is ingenious but the offset weight of the motor does make the tiller always pull to one side. Installing a "Tiller Tamer" solves this problem and also permits you to leave the cockpit for a moment to go forward and get a fresh cola. The anchor and hawsepipe are nicely done and those and a full-teak rail (an expensive option but one I like) give the small boat a large-boat feel. The hardware is first-class throughout, as is the solid construction. This is a boat built to be a serious seaworthy boat, and not just weekend Tupperware.
The roller-furling by rotating the masts is fast, ingenious, and permits infinite reefing. One person can do both masts in under five minutes—faster if there is an approaching black cloud. Even in a blow you can sheet in the mizzen, let go the main, and go forward alone to attend to things, and the boat will face into the wind and rest quietly. Internal water ballast tanks add stability to the boat in heavy weather. The leeboards and entire rudder lift out of the water for beaching and the bottom is flat and an inch thick, designed for hard use.
—Last but also important, it just looks good. It looks seaworthy. It looks fast. It also looks a bit—odd—with the leeboards and unstayed masts. At almost every boat ramp, someone, usually a sailor of some years, will come over to ask questions. It attracts attention and admiration. It is, after all, about as big as a day sailor can get, and yet can be handled by one person and launched and sailed with no fuss. At the conclusion of this spring's Cedar Key event I hauled out my boat and then spent almost thirty minutes discussing the boat with one and then another and then another curious bystander. And these were not the people there for the sailing event. I eventually escaped and drove home to Tampa. When I stopped for gas in Dunellen, Florida, a small town well inland, I had to answer more questions from an admirer before I could get back on the road.
Will I keep this Sea Pearl longer than I did the last? Who knows. But it is cheap fun, fun I can have by myself if I so choose (which I rarely do—did I mention that it's a babe-magnet too?) and with my own small and trailerable boat I can go to so many places I cannot reach in a 40-foot boat with a 4-foot keel. In sandbar-studded west-central Florida, this is a serious matter to me.
Now, if you will excuse me, I have to go do some serious shoal-water sailing. There are blue crabs out there I have not yet run over.
- Steve Morrill
