Gibraltar, Faux Pas & Power Cats
What kind of a "sailing family" are we really?
We just got back from our first trip to Gibraltar, which I stupidly called, “Granada” to the customs agent today. We had just cleared our passports and were chit-chatting about which sites we should visit when I eagerly announced, “We’ve never been to Grenada before!” My teen and husband both admonished me, loudly, “What are you TALKING about?” I turned red in the face. The man was super gracious and didn’t seem bothered by my brain glitch. The funny thing is that this faux pas was tiny compared to the one we were about to commit.
The reason we were in Gibraltar was to check out a catamaran. Our family has been wrestling for many months with the question of what our next chapter will look. One daughter is already off to college and the second is hot on her heels. Even our son, our youngest, is already a teenager. Time is just flying by. I don’t want to look back on the next year and a half and think, “I wish we had made better use of the time while our kids were still at home.” Recently the question, “Should we try another family adventure?” has been morphing to, “What will our full-time family traveling look like after this school year?” In other words, we have been mentally preparing for something for months, and that “something” will definitely involve some form of full-time travel.
The three leading possibilities we have been considering are to buy another boat and sail the Mediterranean (or French Polynesia or Australia/New Zealand), to tour Europe through Airbnb’s and VRBO rentals, or to travel from place to place through home exchanges. Since we are really enjoying our first home exchange on this trip to Spain (which started with a trip to the 20Books Seville writer’s conference for me), it seemed this idea was becoming the frontrunner.
But then we did what we always do whenever we find ourselves near a marina; we went to check out some boats. At first we were looking at listings as more of a joke than anything else. I spotted one of our favorite, dream boats, the Sunreef 50 sailing catamaran, not far from where we are staying in Estepona. Listed at a measly $2 million, of course we should go check it out, right? If we can’t dream big, why dream at all? But the dreaming soon gave way to actual contemplating when we wandered into the office of a boat broker in Sotogrande. I told them we were looking for a sailboat, preferably a catamaran, which could be ready to sail the Med by June.
First, we went to see a Beneteau monohull. Not only was she in bad shape, but the minute we stepped onto the boat the moldy smell and water-damaged floorboards were instant deal-breakers. Later that day a different broker took us to see two other monohulls; a Dufour 450 Grand Large which was out of the water, and a Beneteau First 42s7.
Both of these boats were in much better shape, but we were still unmoved. “I guess we’re just catamaran people,” we admitted. We left feeling like the boat tours were fun, but not really a priority for the rest of the trip since another liveaboard chapter seemed unlikely.
Then, the next day, I got a text from the first broker saying, “Si usted me dice el presupuesto que tienen podemos buscar mas catamaranes.” Meaning, if I tell them our budget, they can look for more catamarans. But, we were busy vacationing, and I didn’t respond. The next morning I got this text:
They said they found a really great catamaran that we could see while we were in the area if we wanted to. Our response was, “Yes, please!”
Now, as you look at the picture above, you can see right away that the boat they were talking about is not a sailboat, but I only glanced at it, probably without my reading glasses, on a tiny mobile phone screen, so this is a fact that I didn’t even notice. Apparently, when I shared this photo with Nathan, he didn’t notice the lack of sails either. This set the stage for us making the second embarrassing faux pas this morning.
After leaving Gibraltar’s customs office, we found a bus that took us right to the marina.
Before long, we were standing on a beautiful Fountaine Pajot Cumberland Maestro 46 catamaran with her owner. I liked this boat right away. She had a lovely salon and a roomy, open floor plan and had obviously been well-cared for. As the owner showed us around, I casually mentioned that we were considering sailing the Med starting in June. To which he responded, with his delightful British accent, “Well, you won’t be doing that on this boat.” I thought this was a strange thing for someone who was trying to sell us his boat to say. I looked at my husband and he had the same, confused look that I must have had in that moment. My daughter noticed her clueless parents’ reactions and said, “Oh, you guys don’t realize that this isn’t a sailboat, right?” I thought she and the owner were pulling our legs. “Of course it is a sailboat,” I thought. “Go see for yourself,” she said, motioning up the stairs. As I went up to the flybridge, I felt like such an idiot. There was no mast, no sails. This was, in fact, a “power cat!”
After everyone had a good laugh about our major oversight, I assumed we would just thank the owner and be on our way. But, just like when we first saw our former floating home (the Lagoon 450 sailing catamaran which would become the s/v Dawn Treader), I looked over at Nathan and said, “I know that look in your eyes. You like this one.” Yes, he admitted, he did. “But we’re sailing catamaran people,” I protested. “Are we?” he asked. Then he spent a good 45 minutes going over the entire boat with the owner.
Now, hours later, back here at the home exchange apartment in Spain, I find myself feeling deeply conflicted. How can we be considering a power cat? Aren’t we “real sailors?” I suppose if it means that my family could be back on the water in a few months, perhaps my answer is, “maybe not.”
I know the odds of everything falling into place for this to become our future floating home are still very slim. But I can’t pretend that I am not excited that at least there is the possibility of having another liveaboard adventure with my family, with or without the sails.
