GAS BLAST RESTORATION
Max Liberson adopts a down at heel Seadog–blown up in a gas explosion–and decides to give the boat a new lease of life
Cutting through the Voyager Boatyard in Millbrook, Cornwall, on my way to work, I found my brother Matt Black looking perturbed. “What’s up,” I asked. “I’ve just landed another job in another yard, and I have 20 years’ worth of stuff to get rid of, including the Sea Dog, and it’s got to go now,” was his reply.
The vessel in question was quietly floating alongside a pontoon, having just been relaunched. I’d not been aboard, although I had seen the wreck ashore. The yard had been asked to break it up by the insurance company; a gas explosion on board meant it had been declared a total loss. But Matt felt the Seadog could be restored rather than destroyed. He had planned to put it on a beach mooring, but the boat wasn’t rainproof and would soon fill with water and dead leaves; I suspected that if that boat was moved to the beach, then it would be a death sentence for the craft.
I went on board; there was a lot more room than I was used to on my 85-year-old gaff cutter, Wendy May. Also on the plus side, the saloon had not been wrecked in the explosion. But the aft cabin was stripped out, there were four great splits that had been crudely repaired so the aft coachroof was back in its correct position, the masts were out and stripped off, and a steering wheel that didn’t fit was floppily attached. The engine had not been started since the accident, which luckily had not killed the previous owner.
With a sinking feeling, I realised I was going to adopt the poor thing; it was potentially a very good boat, and I liked the shape. Unlike modern boats, the Seadog has nice curves. This one was the 30ft centre cockpit ketch with a long keel and two bilge keels that were also water tanks. They’re not fast sailing boats but are strong and steady–sort of the Land Rover of the sailing world.
