The Picaroon Blog

The Picaroon is a Paceship PY26. She was built by AMF Alcort, who, amongst many other things, once made Harley Davidsons, and who now make bowling balls – which just goes to show that just because everything you make is fat, slow, and can only turn in a gentle arc, doesn't mean you can't diversify.

The boat was launched in 1980, just barely before an EPA ban of the noxious, but effective, chemicals used in old glassfibre caused a generation of boats to be plagued with a hideous skin disease called 'osmosis'.

She was bought, shiny and new off the factory lot, by a retired naval officer named Unglebargler, or something similar, who, in a fit of pop fandom, named her 'Genesis'. Admiral Unglebargler was a kind and attentive owner; a proper seaman, who believed in the care and maintenance of his plastic bathtub flagship.

Unglebargler and Genesis spent many, no doubt enjoyable, years together in and around her home port of Herrington Harbor, before he got too old to sail her, whereupon she was laid up in on the hard. She sat in the boatyard for five years before a strange old codger, who went by the name of Salty Walter, bought her.

Salty was not quite as rigorous as the old Admiral, and given to making minor, but unusual, additions, like the outboard motor mount on the transom, despite a fully functioning, and indeed reliable, inboard diesel engine. Still, Salty wasn't neglectful, and Genesis was back in the water again.

Salty had the boat for only two or three years before he decided she was a bit of a pain to single-hand and put her on the market.

That's where we came along. We purchased her for the princely sum of thirty-five hundred dollars, along with the usual diverse selection of equipment that comes with a second-hand boat. The rest of the story begins here . . .                            .

Tender to the Picaroon, the Goblin is our passport to the shorelines and shallow creeks that would ground the bigger boat, and a shuttle to and from land when we are in a foreign port.

The Goblin is a Dyer Dhow - a popular small general-purpose dinghy that is one of the few things made in Rhode Island, along with famous Rhode Island wine, which I hear you can actually drink without going blind, and those ungrateful little pukes who kicked off the 'Revolutionary War'. She's 9 foot long, with a 4 foot beam, and will comfortably hold three adults - four, if you don't mind sinking occasionally. Her principle mode of propulsion is rowing, and she does this nicely. However, she also comes with a sail kit, which converts her into an entirely ineffective small sailboat.

I believe I may be being a touch unfair on the old girl, actually. The two times I have had her out with the mast stepped and sail up were in exceptionally light winds, for fear of capsizing. This was pre-renovation, when the only flotation was a chunk of decaying polystyrene foam, tied loosely to a thwart that wasn't attached to the boat. That said, she wouldn't go to windward at all, so sailing was a bit of a futile experience.

I have no idea when the Goblin was built - probably a couple of decades ago, judging by the general state of disrepair. When we bought her, she was just about fit for the water, so we dumped her straight in off the dock without doing any work on her at all - or putting a bung in the drain-hole either, for that matter, but that wouldn't be the last time she sank.

She did well for the first season, allowing us to fish in the creeks and visit the shore for the first time. She periodically sank, if it rained too much during the week, but no harm was done, and she seemed happy to be tagging along behind the Picaroon like a baby elephant.

That first winter, we hauled her onto the top of the car and took her home to spend the off-season in the back yard, where she would undergo a slow, but satisfactory, renovation. Her damaged glass was repaired, she got new thwarts, and a new coat of paint - emerging from the process with a shiny dark green interior that gave her her new name.

She now has a new cover, to keep out the elements, and her own anchor. One of these days Pip will finish the forward locker to keep all of the fishing stuff dry. And the name - she'll get that painted on her, too.