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By Lee Högman
Ever since we stepped off the dock and became sailboat owners, others in the marina have often asked me if I had succumbed to "Two-Foot-Itis" yet—that mental affliction that seems to attack unsuspecting boat owners after they've had their boat for a while. Alas, I must confess that this year with our 21-footer, certain events and circumstances have brought to the forefront of my thoughts the desire to get a bigger sailboat and the contraction of the disease.
Through these past three seasons of learning to sail our boat, upgrading and fixing, cleaning and caring, and falling in love with our little boat, I really hadn't noticed the subtle hints of affliction that had crept into me. I hadn't thought of ever giving up my pride and joy, the vessel of my escape from the stresses of modern life, and my real connection with the good earth's elements, especially since I had worked so hard to make it perfect (read: spent more money than I care to think about). It wasn't until my wife and I spent a night on our boat as part of a raft-up on Carlyle Lake with several other boats from Boulder Yacht Club, that the malady of Two-Foot-Itis began its evil work. Vicki had an opportunity to investigate and tour many of the boats within the raft and made causal comments about how nice many of them were. Little did I realize that her doing so was the first hint of the onslaught of the disease.
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As small sailboat owners know, the design of most 21-foot boats do not allow for much room inside the cabin. Our boat's design provides even less than many, having a lower cabin than others. I like to say that our cabin is cozy for two and intimate for more. Vicki tells it straight
—it's cramped, period. A couple people cannot do much more than sit in the center section and one literally has to crawl on elbows and knees to get into the V-berth. Hitting your head, back, or hips (and all other parts of one's body) is a quick reminder of the low cabin top. Since there's not really enough room for the two of us in the V-berth, we each took a quarter berth to sleep in.
The smallness of our boat's cabin was driven home in the early morning hours of the next day of the raft-up. I awoke before sunrise with a fairly urgent need to convene with Mother Nature. But the porta-pottie, with no other place to sit than beside the starboard quarter berth in one of the footwells, takes up a prominent place in the center part of the cabin. Connecting those two thoughts, the desire for a larger boat was driven home as I was met by "that" look on my lovely bride's sleepy face as she opened one eye to see what I was doing, no more than maybe six inches from her lovely pillowed head. She thankfully uttered not a single word while turning over and covering up with a spare pillow.
A couple hours later we both decided it was time to get up and join the others in the group for breakfast, as the sounds and smells drifting by our hatch provided evidence that we were some of the last to rise that morning. As usual for BYC, food was shared between boats and it wasn't long before Vicki and I sat down with a collection of breakfast goodies. This was when my bride alluded to the smallness of the cabin and that she did not appreciate my waking her up earlier in a most unappealing way. She then spoke the words that brought both a fever of excitement and a pale of dread over me: "We need a bigger boat." I realize that statement was the first true acknowledgement that I was indeed afflicted with the "Itis."
After much agreement and an excited, but solemn, oath from me to begin the quest to satisfy her requirements, I was struck by the realization that the disease had manifested itself through a different set of symptoms for my bride. She told me that in the future, she would not likely be comfortable spending nights on board our diminutive craft, electing only to go day sailing on the weekends. Not being an insurmountable problem for me, her statement only served to speed my quest for a bigger boat. But to my horror, she also issued the edict that we were not in any position to be able to acquire another boat for a "while." My growing fears were quelled a little by her agreement that I could still go off on my quest for our next boat, as long as I didn't sign anything or drag anything home. I knew then that I had a full-blown, severe case of Two-Foot-Itis.
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I've noticed that since contracting the disease, friends and acquaintances have also either become infected with me, or are suffering from the lingering effects from their own bout. When the topic of bigger boats comes up in conversation as it always seems to do lately, I'm provided many options and ideas for my next boat. All of my fellow yacht club members that I've spoken to about getting a bigger boat either know of a "perfect" boat for sale or are seriously considering to sell their own boat, which of course would be perfect for me. Funny that this disease makes their boat not "perfect" for them as they are also in the hunt for a bigger boat. Is there no cure for this affliction?
I think the worse part of having Two-Foot-Itis is the emotional roller coaster I've been experiencing, contrary to the calm, cool demeanor of my bride. She continues to listen patiently as I expound the virtues of this boat or that, often agreeing with me that the current target of my excitement is truly a nice boat. But then she skillfully shoots the idea down through that dreaded cure-all: logic. She has so far been successful by presenting various points of contention to end the quest for each prospective boat. The most effective of which is, of course, the contents of our bank account. Go figure.
However, Vicki has been a true and loyal spouse through my fits of madness. She has helped me through all the "great deals" andperfect boats I've found. Just last weekend we arrived at the marina and I spotted the exact make and model of boat I had been pining for. I was beside myself with excitement to see a "For Sale" sign taped to the trailer. I immediately stopped our truck, jumped out, and began an inspection of the outside, noting to my calm bride the many positive points in the way of features and goodies adorning this boat.
My head was swimming at the thought of piloting this great vessel, my bride very proud of me in finding this boat that I assured her didn't need any more work to make it perfect and plenty big enough for her to lounge in spacious comfort of the cabin. Then this gentleman walks up to my boat, thisperfect boat, the boat to end all boats for me and pulled the "For Sale" sign from the trailer. I immediately knew that he knew that I was obviously the next owner of this fine craft and I figured to let him make the first move to start the imminent transaction. I smiled broadly as he said, "You won't find a prettier boat in the marina than this one. I restored this boat this year and now have to sell it because we're sailing our big boat to Florida for this Winter."
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I was doing back-flips inside as he spoke, catching the subtle hints that this boat was indeed
perfect and that he needed to sell it. I looked to my bride and she was smiling. What a great day! He continued, "
Yup, sold it just this morning—hated to let it go for so little, but I've got a lot of work to do on my big boat in a short amount of time and didn't want to drag this one back home again." I'm certain that all the color drained from my face as I comprehended what he had just said. I'm sure that my jaw landed with a thud on my chest. I'm positive that everyone within 100 yards heard me cry, "
Nooooo!!! My dear wife patted my shoulder and led me back to our truck, soothing and comforting me as I sobbed.
I'm a little better for now, since I found this even better deal for an even bigger boat down south. The owner wants to sell his boat so he can get a small one that doesn't need a motor. This seems to me to be a very strange manifestation of the Two-Foot-Itis affliction, but hey, I won't complain—his boat would be absolutely perfect for us! I've already called my wife and told her the great news about my finding the perfect boat down south. She even agreed to sit down with me at our PC tonight and look over the photos of the boat on its web site. I'm really excited that she was so enthusiastic in her reply of, "Uh-huh, that's nice dear," when I told her that I really found the perfect boat this time. I wonder what I'll name our "new" boat? No matter, I'll think of something. Wish me luck!
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