In around Feburary of this year, the wee boat began to slip from its position as my life's central focus. I'd enrolled in a new form of tertiary education, which actually required attendance (!), and the time available for boating and boat-improvement was cut drastically overnight. I carelessly let water get into the fuel tank, and soon the old girl was not running her best. The one trip undertaken around this time ended with my co-skipper and I paddling the boat back to the boat ramp; the engine having died before we made it out the marina.
This represented the end really, from that day my heart was never really in it. I was getting plenty of sea time at boat school, and was beginning to appreciate the practicality of outboard motors. I kept the boat through this time however, as I still had in my mind that I would finish it when time permitted. Time didn't permit though, and it sat untouched for most of a month.
I did well at boat school, and through the HOD, I was offered a place on a sailboat delivery to Fiji. It sounded like a good time, so I signed on. As is the case with most small boat crewing, it was unpaid, and I lacked the funds to get the requisite foul-weather gear, boots, provisions, and a return flight. HMS Wee Guy's fate was sealed.
It was quickly sold to a nice feller who I'm sure will do her justice. I watched it leave the driveway from the kitchen window, with a wistfulness unlike any I'd felt before. While the boat wasn't great any aspect, it was my first, and the most challenging project I'd taken on to date. What's more, when I look back I think it had come to reflect many of my own attributes. The motor/hull combination was eccentric, and looked immensely impractical. Like me however, it was loathe to leave people in the lurch, and (generally) mustered the wherewithal it needed to get the job done. Underestimated by most, and overestimated by me, the Wee Guy was in many ways my inanimate, boat-shaped twin.
I found the post above as a draft, after two years of not logging in. I hope those of you who arrive here having searched something like"shitty diesel boat does wheelie leaky exhaust ran aground help?" might find this blog of use, and those returning might find some closure to the Wee Guy's story.
And, happening upon one of the more practical articles in such a way, then perhaps reading on to find yourself here, where are you left? If you are entertaining such a project, I offer as much encouragement as is possible, as having such a (shitty) boat was the most enriching experience of my young life. While my best friends and I put ourselves in no real danger, we did pit my/our workmanship against significant imaginary danger, and the very real risk of an embarrassment and long lectures from salty old bastards and the coastguard, which would have eventuated had we been forced to solicit their towing services had said workmanship failed us. Good fuckin' luck I say, enjoy it!
