From the Editor: Is My Boat Thinking About Me Too?

Physicians have a knack for being hard to find when you need them, unless you have their mobile numbers to reach them on the golf course, at the beach house or on the ski slopes. There is one notable exception, though: They’re almost always available to talk about their boats. 

This has played out a number of times over the course of my career. Generally, when I would call a yacht-owner doctor’s office looking for information about his boat, I could almost swear I heard scalpels and forceps clanging on the floor as they rushed to take the call. After a bit, it would be me who’d start to worry about the poor soul the doc had left hooked up to the heart-lung machine.

Whether they’re dinghies or superyachts, we cherish our boats more than just about anything. They restore our spirits, settle our jangled nerves and provide relief from the worries of the workaday world that no shrink can offer (assuming you can get one on the phone). We get cranky when our boats are tied up in the service yard or we can’t clear the time to use them. Sharing a day on the water with them is the ultimate elixir. 

From the depths of the frigid Chicago winter this year, a friend sent me a snapshot of his favorite Christmas gift. It’s a coffee mug bearing a simple, fanciful message: “Sometimes I wonder … Is my boat thinking about me too?” Of course, we know boats are not sentient, but just as we’re not whole without them, they’re not whole without us.

Another friend had a winter ritual of removing the loose furniture from his Maine-built lobster yacht and retiring to his basement for Sunday zen sessions sanding and varnishing. It would have been easy to pay a pro to do it, but it was his way of staying connected to his obsession when the cold wind blew. His teak accessories always started the boating season in Bristol condition.

The dead zone between when the shrink-wrap goes on and the first crank of the engine in the spring is a time for making lists and doing indoor projects in anticipation of the first cruise of the year. Those of us who live in four-season climates always do a bit of suffering in winter that no amount of televised football or snow sports can assuage. Simple reminders like that coffee cup or those  solitary basement projects keep us wired to those objects of our desire sitting silent in the boatyard.

By now, the first whiff of summer is upon us. The days are stretching, the grass is greening, and treetops are thickening with buds. Some of us have already made a trip or two to the yard to visit our hibernating companions. Were they living, breathing entities, they’d be anticipating that first shock of liquid cold when the lift lowers them into the water—as thrilled as we’ll be standing behind the wheel moving down the channel toward open water.

If you haven’t done so already, soon it’ll be time to mothball the skis, load the cooler and head for the marina for that annual shakedown cruise. Has your boat been thinking about you as much as you’ve been thinking about it? Who really knows. Regardless, both of you will be sharing adventures on the water again soon.

Summer 2025