Between newness and the end

I don't know how it is in the rest of the world, but in the Southeastern Unites States, decaying, semi-sunken and abandoned boats are a major problem.

 Every boat has a story. Each story likely starts with joy and pride and promise. It is hard to know what happens between the newness and the end. These stories can only be imagined.

For example, here's a boat that was recently lifted from the Savannah River near Ms. Bettencourt's home port.

I think this wooden lady was once a shrimper. For at least the last 15 years, she sat in the Augusta Marina. I don't know how she got there. I have never seen her move. I know she was not taken from the water over this period.

Three owners ago, the boat was known as the Paid-4, a name attested by that label painted in 4-foot high white letters on either side of her hull. It seems to me that there was always a party going on aboard the Paid-4.

Then one dark and stormy night, some malefactor unplugged and stole Paid-4's shore power extension cord. The news was not good the next morning, since the missing cord and a 120-volt pump were all that had keep the old shrimper on top of the water.

She didn't go to the bottom, but she was never the same after that. The boat changed hands again. There was some painting that obscured the old girl's billboard name on the hull. It appeared from a distance that a new barbecue grill was installed. The partying was somewhat muted, but partying continued.

More time passed, then the boat was somehow moved downstream from the main marina, to a moderately remote location where boats suffering some kind of disgrace usually wind up.

For a long time she appeared abandoned. I checked her extension cord every time I went by and hoped for the best.

Then a couple of weeks ago, there was a story in the newspaper about how the latest owner had donated the boat to a local religious group. A crane showed up and lifted her off the water. The new owner says he's going to restore her, and that he will probably be ready to relaunch in three months or so.

A close look at the hull suggests some major work will be required. I have never seen a  patch made from a piece of truck tire on a waterline rotten spot before. But that repair appears to be quite substantial, compared to...

...this plywood and caulking bandage on the opposite side. This patch seems to be held in place with drywall screws and aerosol insulating foam.

(You may wish to click a photo to enlarge for a closer look).






Meanwhile, another long stationary vessel sits just across the yard.

When this fiberglass boat rolled in last fall, I asked a marina worker what he knew about her.

He told me the boat was a minesweeper and that was all he knew.



Of course, she's not a minesweeper. She is a navy or coastguard motor whaleboat.

I can imagine a sharply uniformed cox'n directing this saucy little vessel, with passengers loaded junior ranks first so senior officers can debark first-off on arrival.

And there's more. About a half-mile up the river, sits a once-elegant wooden Matthews of 1950s vintage.

This old timer has been getting some  topside repairs. Unfortunately, that work could prove too little, too late. 

It is possible to practically see into her hull through rotted planking at the waterline on her starboard side.

Like the old shrimper, the Matthews was recently moved here from the main marina upstream.

I think that's a shore power cord drooping off her bow. Something tells me that power cord and a pump are all that are keeping her on the surface.