Searching for My Mother

June-July 2004

This is an article from WaveLength Magazine, available in print in North America and globally on the web.
To download a pdf copy of the magazine click here: > DOWNLOAD

by Berry Wijdeven

I am searching for my mother. I know she’s out there somewhere, anxiously awaiting my arrival, ready to embrace me and carry me and my friends and our kayaks to fabulous adventures in faraway places.

I blame it all on Barb and Keith Roswell. Before I met them, I was a perfectly content kayaker, spending my spare time exploring the wondrous wilderness of the Queen Charlotte Islands/Haida Gwaii. Life can get hectic sometimes, even up here, so escaping to a secluded bay to soak up nature’s splendor is a must. But because our trips generally last only a few days, we’re limited by the distances we can cover. This leaves tantalizing areas of Haida Gwaii open for exploration. Maybe next year. Or the year after.

Then Barb and Keith invited me aboard the Anvil Cove, a 53-foot schooner, for a mothership kayaking trip exploring Gwaii Haanas National Park Reserve. It was beautiful. It was glorious. It was heaven. Sumptuous meals three times a day. Warm showers. Warm beds. Dry sheets. All the while motoring to places I had barely dared to dream of reaching by kayak. This was living!

On the last evening of our trip, just south of Tanu, we put the kayaks in the water for one final paddle. We glided on water as flat as glass, surrounded by seals, watching little crabs negotiate their way through the kelp forest below and a whale breaching on the horizon. With the Anvil Cove anchored in the distance and the sumptuous smell of seafood chowder wafting towards us, I knew I wanted a mothership.

Now I like to think I know a fair bit about kayaks, having built a couple of them, but I knew precious little about motorboats. How tough could it be? All I needed was something simple, a basic shell, a tent on the water—a dry place to come home to after a long day of kayaking.

But then I started to get greedy. Sure a dry space is nice, but so is a stove, a heater, a fridge, toilet, shower, comfortable seating. And with a little luck, and a bit of money, I could have it all. All I had to do was find my boat.

Buying a kayak is relatively easy. You assess your needs, find a design that pleases the eye, a model that pleases the pocketbook and you’re good to go. Motorboats are a different kettle of fish. There are so many choices. Different materials. Different designs. Steel, aluminium, fiberglass, cement, wood. Sailboats, schooners, fishing boats, cruisers. This called for some serious research, but that’s what winters are for.

After months of research and endless conversations with boat owners more than willing to recount every intricate detail of the ups and downs of boat ownership, I settled on wooden fishing boats. I liked trollers because they were sturdy, were pretty to look at, had plenty of head and elbow room, and generally made it easy to accommodate a kayak or two. I also wanted a wooden boat because just about everybody told me not to. Going against the grain has become a bit of a specialty, ever since discovering that, in spite of what colleagues, friends and family told me, there was more to life than a well-paid government job I couldn’t stand. So wood it would be.

I also liked wooden boats because they were often a lot cheaper. Initially. Which brings me to the next difference between kayaks and boats. When you buy a kayak, you’ve paid the one major expense you’re likely going to have. Sure there are paddles and a spray skirt, a flotation device and kayak pump, but those are minor, really. Maintenance is minimal, with the odd spit and polish and a new bungee cord or two.

When you buy a motorboat, however, the purchase of the vessel is just the beginning of your financial journey. Work on such a boat is never really done. There’s the engine, transmission, prop, cables, hoses, wiring, electrical parts, fuel lines, water tanks (‘Bring Out Another Thousand’ spells ‘boat’). Compared to a kayak, a boat is a mechanical Pandora’s box.

Wooden boats especially need constant upkeep to remain ship shape, including caulking, scraping, planking, painting, varnishing, zincing and anti-fouling. Which in turn likely explains the lower initial purchase price.

Undeterred, I started searching for my mothership. First I checked locally, but whatever was available was often better suited for use as a planter than as transportation. So I started surfing the net, buying boating magazines and after a couple of weeks I located sufficient boats of interest to warrant a plane trip to the Mainland.

It was an eye opener. Boats that looked great on the internet suddenly developed major paint problems or massive rot. Others were just too small, too old, too expensive or just not right. I had to learn how to look at boats. At first I would judge them by whether they were pretty and whether there was sufficient room to stow the kayaks. But I got better and started to learn what to look for, what key areas to examine. Started to find the defects. Started to discover that many vessels had ‘issues’.

At the end of two long, tiring days, we managed to find a boat to our liking, a 35 foot prawn boat, newly separated from its license. It needed some work, but the basics were there. Nice lines. A spaciouswheelhouse. Lots of electronic gadgets. A newish engine. It even had a shower. And the price was right. We put an offer on the vessel, pending a survey. Then we flew home, eager to show our friends pictures of the new boat and start planning trips.

The survey wasn’t pretty. Planking problems, caulking concerns, a worn out cutlass bearing, oil in the bilge, wonky rudder, questionable wiring. It could all be fixed, of course. But at a substantial price. We walked away.

I’ve learned a lot so far and for not even all that much money. The main lesson has been that you can’t rush into buying a boat. I had been pushing hard, hoping to be sailing Gwaii Haanas this summer. That wasn’t very realistic. It’s going to take time finding the boat that fits my needs and budget, doing the research, keeping my eyes open. I also learned that surveys can be worth every penny, especially if you’re not that familiar with boats. And I learned that motorboats are a lot more complicated than I thought.

My mothership is out there and I’ll find her, one day. Meanwhile, spending time around motorboats has given me a new appreciation for kayaking. An appreciation for the quiet. The peacefulness. For the closeness to sea and shore life. For the utter simplicity of it all.

Kayaking remains a cathartic activity which I treasure every opportunity I get. With or without my mother.