I'm an engineer by training and profession. There's a certain ethos associated with engineering work, which is ancient in origin; it's a desire to construct, invent, accomplish, build, and by doing so, achieve some sort of personal validation. I don't know why the Egyptians built the pyramids; perhaps it was some pagan religious obligation, or the rewards offered by the Pharaoh, or the lash of the overseer's whip which compelled them. One thing I'm certain of, however, is that the Egyptian architects and engineers must have felt much of the same motivation as I do. Working with one's hands, using one's brain, dreaming of the final result even though the only tangible thing is a pile of building materials... boatbuilding is one path to this end. One doesn't have to be good at it; it's the doing which is important.

You might think that my regular work as an engineer would provide all of the personal satisfaction of this kind that any man would need. Unfortunately, it doesn't.  Professionally, an engineer's vision is tempered by that of his client or boss, and compromises are often made. Boatbuilding, conversely, is strictly my vision, not that of any other person. I don't have to compromise with anyone except myself (although I occasionally do compromise with myself, and sometimes get angry with myself at the choices made!)

There's little point in building a boat for the sake of any perceived economic benefit... unless your time is valued at a very low wage. As I write this, I have spent about 60 hours, and about $300, on this project. I'm guessing that, at completion, I will have spent 400 hours, and perhaps $3500-$5000, on this project. I probably could have purchased a serviceable small sailboat for less. You might say that I'm spending a bit over $8/hour for the pleasure of working on this project. I earn substantially more as an engineer (when I'm working, that is).

Boatbuilding is better viewed as entertainment, and reasonably priced entertainment, if you judge it on the basis of the hourly cost. The journey is more important than the destination. I've built three previous small boats, and all of them ended up, for various reasons, being cut up and discarded... yet I don't regret the time or money I spent building them. Each of them was a learning experience, and learning is, or at least should be, a pleasure.

I wouldn't want to imply that the end result will be insignificant. I sincerely hope that the culmination of this project will be a lovely, elegant, classic catboat, upon which I will lazily sail on Narragansett Bay on sunny Sunday afternoons, soaking up the ambience with sheer pleasure. But if, for any reason, it doesn't turn out that way... it will still have been worth it.

11/25/03

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