Not a Yacht. A Possibility - Why a Neglected Steel Trawler Replaced a Westsail 40

Log #01 - First Sight

November 2024 - Winter

I first saw the boat in November 2024, in winter, which is rarely when anything looks its best and is therefore an excellent time to look seriously.

At the time, I was actively hunting for a suitable liveaboard — something within budget, substantial enough to convert properly, and realistic given the time and skills available. I’d already looked at a number of vessels around the country and had come very close to buying a Westsail 40 in Ipswich. That deal fell through after a survey revealed a weak keel, which was disappointing but decisive.

This boat appeared shortly afterwards, almost as an aside, listed on eBay. It was just one more possibility to look at on the way home from wherever, so to speak. The immediate impression was its size — and the fact that it represented a complete reversal of my long-held idea of sailing and yachts. After spending time aboard the Westsail, the lack of living space there had become impossible to ignore. Stepping onto this boat, even through clutter and neglect, made the contrast obvious. I was pretty much hooked immediately.

The boat was on hard standing at Sirius Marine boatyard in Stourport-on-Severn. She looked tired, neglected, and unmistakably industrial — but also solid. The space alone suggested possibilities that simply didn’t exist on the Westsail, no matter how seaworthy or romantic that idea had been.

"I wasn’t — and still am not — getting married to the boat
so it either works, or it doesn't"

What struck me most was not the condition, but the potential. If time allowed, this was clearly a viable project. Within a short period, I was confident that I could carry out the work required within a reasonable timescale. I estimated 18 to 24 months from acquisition, assuming steady progress and a heavy reliance on DIY skills. The costs didn’t appear insurmountable. Steel, at least, has the advantage of retaining value: if it all went wrong, there was always the fallback option of selling on or scrapping and walking away.

At around the same time, my better half was due to have an operation on her leg, and the timing coincidentally aligned almost perfectly with my estimated project duration. The potential stability of a steel trawler compared to the Westsail became more than an abstract consideration. It was practical, and persuasive.

After seeing the boat, we both agreed almost immediately that this was the right direction. The improvement in living space alone made the decision feel obvious.

It was at about this point that I asked the family a carefully framed question: did they want to learn how to scuba dive? They did. The promise that I would pay for the training helped. They are now, more or less, the crew.

We took photographs. We walked away. We went home. We talked it through properly. Then we booked the survey with Richard — a surveyor in Ipswich whose judgement we trusted. That was that.

At the time, I felt certain I understood what I was getting into. I was confident. I was optimistic. And I was only partly right.

Relevant References:

• Why Liveaboard Conversions Fail (and How to Avoid It)

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