Bully and Ol' Blue

I likely never could have anticipated the chain reaction that began by opening that folder on my hard drive. Since then, Nina and I have had several late-night conversations about the possible reality of returning to the coast. Some of those conversations went really well—others, not so well.

What would it cost us to move?

What kind of a boat would we purchase?

How would we afford it?

When would we go?

Would relatives approve of our lifestyle change and relocation?

The questions flooded into our minds, and we did our best to answer them, but some of them just didn’t have answers—or perhaps had answers that we didn’t want to acknowledge at the time.

We knew there would be relatives who didn’t approve of our decision if that’s what we decided to do. We knew it would cost quite a bit of money to purchase the right boat for our family. And we knew it would be a couple of years away. Other than that, it all felt really sudden, yet unshakable.

Nina has been somewhat of an anchor for me. I tend to get very excited about certain things from time to time and am annoyingly spontaneous. When I get a dream in my head, folks better duck or step aside because I’m bulldozing my way toward making the dream a reality. Thankfully, Nina’s anchoring skills are quite solid. As different tidal currents and blows have rolled in, she has kept us from dragging on multiple occasions. For her, I am and always will be grateful, as any sailor would be for a trustworthy anchor.

It took some time for us to wrap our minds around the reality of selling most of our belongings and going cruising with the kids—several months at least. But when the idea had really settled, we knew we needed something to hold us over in the meantime. It was a bit like waiting for a holiday dinner. The house feels and smells amazing—the kitchen bustling with people preparing different sides and courses, the clatter of dishes and silverware, the aroma of ham or turkey coming from the oven. Everything is right in the world, except for the fact that you are starving and only have 2 options: continue to starve until dinner is served, or steal a piece of fruit or cheese from a platter to hold you over

We don’t like the feeling of starvation. Our pieces of fruit and cheese are named BULLY and OL’ BLUE.

BULLY is a 9’ Dyer Dhow sailing dinghy, made in 1975. I found her in the local classifieds. A fisherman had her stowed away in his storage unit. She needed a bit of work—her swing keel was all but falling apart due to water rot, the wooden benches and rails needed some TLC, and the standing rigging and sheets needed to be replaced. All in all, it only took 2 weeks to get her in ship shape.

I did a bit of research on the Dyer Dinghies. They first started being built in 1930 by The Anchorage, Inc. The boats were named after the company’s founder, Bill Dyer. The original Dyer dinghy was called the “Dyer Dink.” It was a 10 footer, and the most famous in the Dyer line. In the 1940s, Bill Dyer was contracted by the US military to supply lifeboats, which eventually became known as the 9 foot “Dyer Dhow” dinghies.

Anna Jones, the granddaughter of Bill Dyer, described the events of the time as follows:

“The government (War Department) came to my grandfather, Bill Dyer, during WWII, and asked him to build a boat that would fit in nine feet of space and hold nine men. The original 9’ers were plywood and were used on PT boats during WWII. I have pictures of them being loaded on the big transport planes. I also have a picture showing nine of our men standing in one out here on the [Warren] river and it was still floating. About a year or so ago, I had a call from a customer who told me that when he was stationed in the South Pacific during the war they used to take a boat and rag a sail on it and sail around. That’s where he learned to sail.”

They were first constructed out of fiberglass in 1949, making them the oldest continuously-built fiberglass boat in production today. The Dhow was followed by two additional models from Dyer: the Midget (an 8 footer), and the Daysailer (a 12 footer).

Mystic Seaport has more than 50 Dyer Dhows, with 48 of them still being sailed regularly. How I ended up with one in Utah is definitely a mystery.

OL’ BLUE is a Catalina 22 built in 1976. I bought her from a guy who had her in a slip at the Great Salt Lake Marina. The Great Salt Lake was seeing record low water levels and the marina was requiring nearly all boats to be hauled out and stored in the yard. Needless to say, some of the owners weren’t thrilled about this extra hassle, and so they were offloading their sailboats at a fraction of the normal asking price. It was one of those, “right place—right time” kind of situations for us.

The only thing that really needed any attention was the outboard. It was an older Johnson 9.9hp, that basically needed a complete rebuild. I’d had my eye on the newer propane outboards for a while and really wanted to try one out, so we ditched the Johnson and bought a Tohatsu 5hp Longshaft propane outboard. Long story short, it’s been the best outboard I’ve ever used. We also installed a stern pulpit and a complete set of stanchions and lifelines.

The name she came with was “The Ol’ Blue Chair,” likely influenced by an old country song. They had the name stuck on the starboard side of the boat with big blue sticker-lettering. We scraped off the words, “The” and “Chair” and rechristened her, “OL’ BLUE.”