August 8, 2025

Every cruising boat needs at least one other boat, a dinghy. But there is no reason not to carry other types. Carrie Rose has two and at times has had as many as four. Our boats are wood and have the distinction of being made in the Chicago bungalow’s basement. The first is the 8 foot dinghy which resides on the stern, and the second is a 9 foot double paddle canoe which lives atop the pilothouse. The first gets a lot of use, the second not so much.

 

To propel the dinghy, I rely on either oars or in most cases an electric outboard. I have had electric outboards for several decades. Up until two years ago it was rare to see another one at the dinghy dock. I enthusiastically fielded questions from inquisitive boaters about the functionality, range, battery life and length of charging. My proselytizing paid off because now they are common place.

 

In the thirteen years I have had this recent motor there have been two electronic glitches and one battery failure. The first glitch left me with only oars for propulsion due to a hidden fuse that only a distant service tech could replace. The second glitch required the main cable to be replaced. This I accomplished on the pilothouse's long seat while watching YouTube videos of the process. As for the battery, which died after 12 years, it was replaced by a more powerful and to be expected, more costly model.

 

I’m not complaining. I have watched my fellow boaters go through much gnashing of teeth trying to make their gas outboards start. Plus, many of the older outboard will not run on unleaded gas and leaded gas is difficult to obtain. I simply plug in the detachable battery to Carrie Rose’s 110 volt socket while we cruise from one destination to another. 

 

A benefit of wooden boats is that since I made them, I can fix them. Now you may say what does one need to fix and to that I would say, you’d be amazed. Once while on land I attempted to secure the dinghy to the swim platform. I miscalculated the force of gravity and flipped it 180 degrees off the back of the boat. It cracked with such a report that most of the boatyard came running to save me. 

 

On several other instances, while backing out of a slip I inadvertently used the dinghy as a fender to absorb the full force of Carrie Rose hitting a large post in reverse. Again, as the dinghy cracked with such a noise that there was nowhere to hide my embarrassment from the ever present shoreside gawkers. 

 

The canoe, sitting atop the pilothouse, absorbed so much sun that the fiberglass delaminated from the wood. This allowed moisture seep between the two surfaces and mold began to flourish. Thus, requiring me to detach and replace all the bottom's fiberglass. Sun and salt water go a long way at destroying a boat’s fine finish and on the dinghy, the exposed surface deteriorated to the point that required me to stripped the varnish off and replace it with paint.

 

Of course, if I had been more diligent none of the above would have happened. When I think back I wonder why I ignored the worsening situation. A little maintenance could have kept both boats pristine. I carry enough epoxy, fiberglass cloth, paint and varnish to accomplish any maintenance or repairs. Just plain laziness, I suppose. 

 

Charlotte and I have been cruising for close to thirty years and sometimes, especially at the start of the season, it feels like it. I am not embarrassed to say that it is a little more difficult to raise our legs, bend our knees, keep our balance. Docks, whether they truly are, seem too high and the dinghy too low. We try to be graceful but most often climb in with a bang and climb out uttering words your grandchildren only hear from the president.

 

Recently I have found myself eyeing a uniquely designed rubber dinghy that looks easier to embark and disembark from. Most cruisers have rubber inflatable dinghies. There is no denying that they are stable. That they move quickly with the appropriate motor. That when landing on rocks or sand do not scuff the bottom paint off because on most cases they have none. That said, in Maine many a boat tows a beautiful wooden dinghy behind them. 

 

Carrie Rose, coming from the Great Lakes, never tows anything behind. We grew up cruising in unprotected waters with tens of miles between each harbor, and the tendency for unexpected storms to arrive while still miles from refuge. A trailing dinghy could easily catapult itself onto the stern while racing down a following wave. 

 

The other day we sat watching a paddle boarder’s effortless cruise around the harbor. Charlotte mentioned that maybe we, yes we, should consider such a craft. I admit that I have had similar illusions in the past but I let the comment waft away in the breeze . . . after all, the thought of another boat getting not much use was reason enough not to respond. 

Somes Harbor/MDI, Maine