Logbook: Good-Bye, Old Friend
The news that my parents were selling the family Egg Harbor came flying in from left field. My parents are boaters. It’s not so much a hobby for them but part of their identity. With full-fledged retirement in the offing, I more predicted them to announce they were taking the Sharon Ann III to Canada for the summer, not that they were parting ways with her.
The reasons for their decision, as is often the case in life, are myriad and mixed but the main one is that they made the transition to a snowbird lifestyle and the 1984 Egg Harbor needed a full-time caretaker.
When my parents first found the 33 Egg Harbor she was, as they say, ridden hard and put away wet. Nearly everything on the boat, from the radar arch down to the running gear would need some love. And love that boat they did. From the curtains and carpet to the decks and electronics, they tackled one project at a time while we spent more and more time aboard; our summer trips stretched longer and further afield.
With grand plans for his growing family in mind, my dad made the decision to repower the boat from gas Crusaders to Yanmar diesels. This project was so ambitious back in the ‘90s that it was featured in a story within the glossy pages of the now-defunct Offshore magazine. Fun fact: If you look closely, like really close, you can see my head just visible on the flybridge. It was a humble start to my marine magazine career but I still get ironically excited when I see it.
To say that the family Egg Harbor is home to my favorite memories is a true understatement. To this very moment I can vividly recall what it felt like to feverishly read the latest Harry Potter book beneath my bunk light. I can hear my brother and I making each other crack up with horrible accents and impressions long after we should have gone to bed. Then there were countless movies, or to be accurate, the same five movies we watched countless times in the V-berth while snacking on gummy worms as my parents enjoyed a drink in the cockpit or flybridge.
As clear as a 4k video, I can close my eyes and see us crossing into Bahamian waters for the first time and feel the frigid water of Camden, Maine through my shorty wetsuit. I can also see our late friend John McGrath telling stories in the salon well into the evening until the point where we had tears in our eyes and our faces hurt from laughing so hard.
I was lucky enough to enjoy the old family boat throughout my childhood and into adulthood. When I wanted Karen to meet my parents for the first time, we all met up on the boat? I remember that afternoon it took almost half an hour just to get past all our friends on the dock who wanted to know who the pretty girl hanging out with me was. My parents also met her parents for the first time aboard the boat. The following summer she would come aboard for our annual cruise up the Erie Canal where she helped to work the locks and learned why boating was so important to me. It makes me smile when I think about how Connor loved the boat too, and how he caught his first catfish from its cockpit.
I could fill this entire magazine with memories from aboard the Sharon Ann III, that’s the truth, but I’ll leave it there for now. Am I sad to see the boat go? Sure. I have strong feelings of nostalgia about that boat. I also feel happy that she is going to a new owner who has his own ties of nostalgia to the Egg Harbor brand; I’m confident he will take good care of the boat and make many happy memories of his own. He even offered for my parents to use the boat at his marina in the Bahamas. (Is two weeks too soon to take him up on that offer?!)
Sad, happy … mostly I feel grateful. Grateful to have grown up aboard her, grateful for all the storms and squalls she saw us through and grateful for the adventures she carried us on. It’s odd to think how different my life might be had it not been for that neglected boat that my parents brought back to life. They treated that boat right and she returned the favor. I guess more than anything I feel thankful that memories don’t get transferred like a title; they’ll remain in my possession forever.
Thanks for the memories, old friend.
See you on the water,
Dan
[email protected]
@danhardingboating
This article originally appeared in the December 2024 issue of Power & Motoryacht magazine.
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Source: https://www.powerandmotoryacht.com/column/logbook-good-bye-old-friend
