The Big Journey

Photo above taken by Sanders McNew, former owner of Command Performance, as she navigated underneath one of Manhattan's famous bridges.

In the beginning

Sometimes life hands you something special. When Sanders McNew, of New York City, offered up his 42' in trade for something smaller and more manageable, Jamie and I jumped at the chance to own the boat of our dreams. A motor yacht with the potential of being the "belle of the ball" in any harbor she visited. Jamie and I had just finished the bulk of the restoration process on our 31' Commander Express, and were eagerly looking to this summer as the time we would finally be able to relax a little and truly enjoy the boat.

In mid-March, Sanders and I sealed the deal of a lifetime. Jamie and I became the owners of a classic 1968 Double Cabin Motor Yacht. The real work was ahead of us - getting the boat from its current location (Stonington, Connecticut) to Norfolk, Virginia. The boat had sat "on the hard" for the better part of 18 months, with very little work done, other than minimal winterization. A substantial investment was made by McNew on the mechanics and underwater gear (through-hulls, props, etc.), with the aesthetics left for a later time. This would prove to be a benefit to Jamie and I.

During the makings of this deal, I contacted my dearest friend Lee Dahlen to help put the relocation of this boat into real, tangible terms. He began making phone calls and inquiries as to the best way to move this mammoth vessel to Virginia. Trucking the boat quickly became a high ticket affair, while moving the boat via water seemed to be the most reasonable option (despite increasing gas prices). But, would the boat make it this far, not having been run in several years? We were to find out soon enough.

How many surveyors does it take...

While Lee worked on the logistics (routing), I began work on the legal aspects of owning this baby. I quickly applied for the title, and began searching for a reasonable and knowledgeable surveyor to assess the boat (needed for insurance). I contacted a surveyor out of a nearby Connecticut township to do the honors. We set a date, and I waited in anticipation for his report. On the day he was to perform the survey, I received a voicemail message from him stating it was "beyond his scope of expertise" to do a survey on a boat in "that condition". He ran away quickly from the job. I was alarmed. A survey was crucial to getting the boat insured, which would allow us to bring it from point A to point B. I had to move to "Plan B" - find another surveyor. 

In the meantime, Lee is continuing his work on the logistics, and I'm trying to get the final pieces to the "swap" ironed out with McNew. I finally find a surveyor (#2) who has agreed to perform the survey. We set a date, and all seems to be getting back on track. The gentleman reports to the boat, performs the survey, and sends me an initial list of items which need immediate attention. He also places a call to me to verbalize these issues. It doesn't look good. Issues like "the entire 12V system needs re-wiring", and "fuel tanks need replacing" are well beyond what we were hoping to hear. This also didn't bode well for insurance binding. Fuel leaks are not on any insurance company's list of "acceptable" issues. Fifteen other items were listed, which also painted a very dismal picture of this classic yacht, and meant a tremendous investment on our part before she could even move away from from the dock. We were quite downtrodden at what was reported, and mystified at the same time. McNew had been quite upfront about the boat's issues, and never mentioned any of this to us when we were cutting this deal. Knowing McNew's high level of integrity and honesty, I felt the only way to get a good and honest report on the boat was to view it myself. And since I could not go due to work scheduling, I asked my trusted and knowledgeable friend Lee Dahlen if he would be available to fly to Connecticut to survey the boat. He agreed, and made arrangements on short notice to fly to Hartford, and drive to Stonington to assess the boat's true condition. 

The real deal

Lee arrived at the boat in the wee hours of the morning, and began looking her over, with only the light of the moon by which to see. He quickly called to report his arrival, and to exclaim about the boat's mammoth size. She was BIG. And she was filled to the ceiling with debris inside her cabin. There was a lot of work to be done, just to get her to the point of being able to see the real deal, but it was manageable. Lee stated he would get set
up for the evening, sleep, and get back on the survey first thing in the morning.

Chris Craft Commander Club member Rick Traskos lived nearby and decided to join Lee during this assessment period, and together they worked on getting both the 12V and 120v service up and running, which would either confirm or disqualify the surveyor's assessment of the wiring. They got both running, and reported that it not only worked, but was wired and dressed quite nicely. So, what was the surveyor talking about here? 

Next came the big V-8 Chevy Tall Deck 427's. Were they serviceable? Lee was not about to leave Stonington before finding out if these babies would bring this vessel home. He and Rick quickly began to put the final touches to the powerplants which would enable them to turn them over to see if they would even fire up. Lee called later that Sunday afternoon to report that both engines turned over, and the starboard engine actually ran. The fuel lines to the port engine would need to be finished before testing it, but he felt confident both engines would be serviceable in transporting the boat from Connecticut to Virginia. And where were those "nasty oil leaks" under each engine the surveyor talked about in his report? Did the surveyor by chance happen to survey the wrong boat? It certainly seemed like it.

Lee would later dispute more than half of the surveyor's findings, and suggested I submit rebuttal to the surveyor to have the report re-written, or to receive a refund on the inadequate survey. I would meet up with this surveyor just prior to our departure from Stonington in what ended up being a big surprise to us all.

Do we have insurance yet?

After getting Lee's report, I discovered I still didn't have a survey that would get me the necessary insurance coverage needed for our long journey home. I could either take the chance that the dismal survey written by surveyor #2 might fly with the insurance company, or I could go for broke and enlist the services of a third surveyor. I chose option #2, and began looking for another surveyor. This time, however, I would enlist the generous services of someone who was quickly becoming another angel on my shoulders, Rick Traskos. Rick was in the marine insurance business, and had a wealth of knowledge, and a very handy list of knowledgeable surveyors who he felt might be up to the task of giving a more accurate review of the boat. Rick came through for me, and a date was set for surveyor #3 to review the boat. The gentleman reviewed the boat, and reported back a much better survey that coincided with Lee's findings. I felt comfortable with the report, and submitted it to my insurance company, who quickly wrote a policy to cover the boat for the value I was seeking. We were in business, with no time to spare, as we were headed to Stonington in only a few days to begin the long journey home.

Command Performance - a rose between two thorns (shown here in Stonington, CT at Dodson's Boatyard)

The moment of truth

Lee and I had worked out all the details of our 500-mile journey home before we actually reached Stonington, and felt comfortable with the preparation lists we had created. He had secured the necessary charting software, and other routing tools, and he had also Fed-Ex'd tools and other necessities prior to his arrival on May 23rd. He was excited about making the trip, and I was excited about the prospect that I would get my beloved 42' home by way of the journey of a lifetime. I was still anxious about the boat's ability to make it, but knowing Lee was onboard gave me a great sense of calm, knowing he had prepared with many contingency plans in place in case of engine failure, structural failure, etc.

I arrived late in the evening on May 24th with the intention of getting the boat in ship shape for the journey, while Lee continued work on the boat's mechanical systems. 

We were to be joined by club member Fred Delavan. Mr. Delavan, a real estate attorney in Maryland and avid navigator, offered up his services immediately upon finding out about our travel plans. Mr Delavan had actually planned this trip in 2002 when he put a contract on a 31' Commander out of New York. The contract fell through, and Mr. Delavan was left holding many charts that were applicable to the route we were taking. So, armed with these charts, and a cooler full of delicious deli meats, Fred joined us on May 25th for our May 26th departure. 

Rick Traskos spent the day with us, toting us back and forth to the grocery store, the local West Marine and making a lengthy jaunt to the airport to pick up Fred. 

As I was returning from one of my trips to one of the local stores, I was met on the dock by surveyor #2, who wanted to come down and introduce himself. I shook his hand and asked if he had received my email (with several items refuting his charges against the boat). He stated he had, and then shocked all of us by saying, "I felt like I gave you a 'half-assed' survey, and therefore I'd like to refund you half the price of the survey I did." He handed me an envelope which contained a check for half the amount of the price I paid him to do his report. I was shocked, as were the rest of those standing onboard. Many said I should've gotten the whole amount back (which I probably should have), but getting half was quite shocking. I didn't know what to say. 

By the evening of May 24th, Lee felt confident that he had gotten things in order, including getting the aged generator running (a generator deemed at the end of its life by two surveyors). We had a brief meeting to discuss the following day's events, and went off to bed, dreaming of the 4-day run from Connecticut to Virginia that lie ahead.

Mother Nature does have a sense of humor

We all awoke on the morning of May 26th to what appeared to us as a very dismal, misty and sleepy kind of day. The weather was cool, and there was a thin sheen of moisture over everything outside the cabin. This was launch day, and aside from mechanical failures or confirmed nasty weather, we were determined to make a go of it. And so we did. 

Keep in mind, a test drive of this boat had never been taken. Its first run would last over 500 miles, and she needed to make it. Was she up to the task? We were soon to find out, and so three anxious and slightly nervous partners made preparations for the first leg of the 4-day journey. 124 miles was all we needed to go. Doesn't sound very far, for a car trip, but for a motor yacht, it was an all-day affair.

Leaving Stonington on a very gloomy Wednesday

Ahead of us was a gray sky, but clear. Behind us, a bank of fog, and what appeared to be rain was closing in on us. We needed to make a run for it providing the weather forecast was favorable. It was. So we threw off the lines, cranked over these sleepy engines, and began our way out of the Stonington harbor, headed for New York.

There is no way to describe the feeling. In one light, you could've bounced nickels off my shoulders, I was so tense. And yet, in another light, I had the one person I knew could get this girl home; my best friend Lee Dahlen. Retired Coast Guard Auxiliary, and long-time boater, and certified marine mechanic, Lee was one of those folks I knew could "fix it", if it broke, or create a makeshift repair that would hold us to the next port. I was comfortable and nervous all at the same time. This was my new boat, after all. I didn't have a refurbished 31' anymore waiting for me in Virginia. This was the boat that would be my next project, and the boat that I would live with for many, many years. And boy, was she a beauty! Leaving her in Lee's hands was exactly what I had wanted, and I thank God for his agreeing to go along on this mission. 

I have to take a side-step here, and say that during the first hour of the trip, I ventured into the cabin for a little while, and quickly discovered that it was NOT the place to be while on the Long Island Sound in this type of weather. With the boat rolling just a bit, I found myself feeling a little green around the gills. Worrying that this might be the curse I would suffer for the remainder of the journey, I quickly ventured back out into the open air, focused on the targets, and began to feel much better. For the rest of the trip, I would be fine, spending only small amounts of time in the cabin when getting beverages, food, or using the head. 

New York: No Wonder It's Called Hell's Gate!

Opening day pretty much went without a hitch. We discovered the Garmin GPS/Sounder that we were using was quite fickle. And for much of the trip, it remained so. About 30 minutes into the journey, the sounder began beeping, indicating we were in very shallow water. According to the charts, however, we were in plenty of water. Lee took it slow, and suddenly the unit showed the charted amount of water, and so we throttled up and began making way.

The weather was mix of gray skies, misty rain and occasional lightening. Seas were relatively calm and kindly. Because of a mis-matched throttle issue which could not be resolved before departure, we were only able to bring the engines up 50% of their maximum. This put us at a mean speed of roughly 14kts. At times, we could've used more power, but this is the kind of cruising I like. Time to react, should something go awry, is good at this speed. A top off of the tanks in Connecticut proved that the estimated gas mileage was off. And not to our benefit. Lee, grimacing, explained that to the best of his calculations, we were getting roughly .33 miles per gallon. You read right, one-third of a mile per gallon. It would require 3 gallons of gas to push my new baby one mile. Not quite the .50 mpg we were expecting. We re-calculated our journey and decided we had enough gas to make it to New York, but another fill up would be necessary for our intended "cushion".

The skies began to clear up as we neared New York. Another quick detour for gas, and we'd be on our way to Manhattan. "What's this? $2.97 a gallon for gas? You've got to be kidding!" "Nope.", said the young, helpful attendant. "And how many gallons do you want?" I told him, cringing, "Fill her up!".

Heading to New York (Day Two)

We were off to the Big Apple. We were all a little excited as we began nearing a city to which I had never been. And to pay it a visit by way of water, in my new yacht was truly one of the most thrilling moments of the whole journey. I would, however, have to also endure one of the most terrifying moments just prior to pulling into Manhattan: HELL'S GATE!!

The currents in Hell's Gate are incredible. The boat traffic is also incredible. Add to this the fact that nowhere in this small channel are there any "No Wake" signs, and you can imagine - folks flying through trying to get into, or out of Manhattan. We just happened to go through at the same time another large Catamaran-styled hull was making way (and FAST!), throwing a huge wake. Luckily, Lee was at the wheel, and took the boat through this jerk's wake, which ended up throwing everything that wasn't nailed down to the floor, and everything on the floor, onto the counters. When we got to Liberty Landing Marina, in New Jersey (across from Manhattan), we not only rejoiced in having made the first leg of our journey safely, but enjoyed a 30-minute clean up, with muffins, cookies and trash rolling all over the floor of the boat. It wasn't pretty.

What was pretty, however, was the gorgeous evening we spent looking across the water at the famous Manhattan skyline. We were, however, quite beat, and ready for showers, food and rest. We got all three and decided to tuck in early in preparation for Day #2.

The Wild Blue Yonder (Day Two)

By the second day, we were beginning to get into some small routines. Each of us taking our turn at the wheel, Lee figuring and re-figuring the route, fuel consumption, and small alternate routes to shorten the distance traveled. Day two was the day that Lee, Fred and I were all somewhat dreading. It was the day that my new 42' would venture out into the big blue ocean, and only having one day under her belt, we were a little apprehensive. We were, however, more confident knowing she had carried us 124 miles in Day One without as much as a hiccough or sputter. Her temperatures were holding, her oil pressure remained even and good, and she seemed quite comfortable being back in the water and underway.

We made it out of Manhattan, and finally out into the Atlantic, and the day began to perk up weather-wise. The sun was beginning to show its face, the air temperatures were still a little on the cool side, and the breeze was blowing somewhat. Nothing the boat, or crew couldn't handle. 

Leaving Manhattan - Day Two - Statue of Liberty in the Background

Fred, for some reason, took delight in running the boat this particular day, and spent more time at the helm than on the previous day. This allowed Lee more time at the laptop, and me, more time on the back deck looking at the scenery.

Our first gas stop saw me jumping off the side of the boat, and onto the dock, not realizing that my eyesight was playing a few tricks on me, telling me the dock was much closer than it actually was. Landing firmly on my feet, but landing hard, I felt something 'pop' in my left foot, and said a few choice words, while the rest of the crew looked on, shaking their heads. We fueled up, bought ice and a couple other things, and re-boarded the boat to make the rest of our journey, while my left foot continued to throb and swell. GREAT! Here we are on day #2, with two more days to go, and I sprain my foot. That should make for a pleasant trip. One side note that did improve my foot was the fact that our gas mileage had suddenly taken a turn for the better. Our intake of fuel on this stop was not nearly as much as predicted, indicating that we were beginning to see more reasonable numbers. In fact, the numbers were proving to be better than those given to us by like owners. We were seeing between .66 and .75 miles to the gallon at this point. That news made me (and my aching foot) feel a helluvalot better.
We landed in Cape May, New Jersey around 6PM, topped off the fuel tanks, got our overnight slip and went to dinner. This was, without a doubt, the best place we had eaten since we left Connecticut: The Lobster House. Fancy without being stuffy, we ate like kings. I did find it funny that halfway through the meal, we found ourselves staring at each other in total exhaustion, not having the energy to even carry on a light conversation. We mutually decided to head back to the boat, grab a shower, and prepare for bed.


Lee did his nightly ritual of phone calls and email checking while I laid down in the v-berth thinking about the day's events, slowly drifting off to sleep. Here we were in Cape May, having made the toughest day of our four-day journey, and not only had we done it in much shorter time than anticipated, but the boat many deemed in such shape as needing months of rehab before such a trek could be even entertained, was sitting proudly in her slip 250 miles from Stonington, CT. I was proud, and very thankful for such a great crew. They had done the work, and their efforts were really paying huge dividends. We were truly all psyched. Fred was also tired, and made his way back to his unique bunk in the aft cabin, made up of cushions taken from various areas of the boat. Unfortunately, Fred chose an area of the boat that saw some precipitation during rain showers. Not being airtight, the aft cabin suffers a few leaks that seemed to fall right over the bunk Fred made for himself. But like myself, Fred was so exhausted, a little moisture wasn't going to stop him from getting some Z's (and lots of them!).

Day Three (Things that go 'bump'....)

Day three began much like the rest of the days we had experienced; gray skies and dampness in the air. No ill winds passed our way, so we pulled in our lines and began making way into the Delaware Bay, and onto the C&D Canal. This was going to be one of the better days, according to our pre-planning. As we pulled into the Delaware Bay, we could tell that our speed was not as it had been the day before where speeds of up to 19kts were reached on the open ocean. It seemed as though the Delaware Bay was trying to send us back, but we wouldn't hear of it. Despite the 14kt speed we were barely able to maintain, we made it past the Bay, and into the C&D. This was actually a great place to go boating. It seemed to be where most of the area's boats were, and we passed many on our journey. Knowing we would need to top off the tanks if we expected to make it to Maryland, we referred to our chart, and to the cruising guide that Fred brought along. There's one not too far - let's go there.

The weather was not boding well for us on day three as we entered the Delaware Bay and C&D Canal.

As we neared the area where we were to take on fuel, we could tell that the currents were beginning to pick up. Again, we find our dear captain Lee at the wheel when suddenly we spot the marina, mysteriously placed directly underneath a bridge. And what's all that aqua activity going on underneath the bridge? They're currents. And they're the wildest currents I have ever seen. My vote would be to keep going and find something a little more stable to dock in, but Lee blows it off as though it were only a minor challenge he was more than ready to face. I feel my shoulders tensing up as he approaches the dock, with these torrid currents pulling us in a completely opposite direction. We touch the bow to the dock, and Lee swings the back end around, and before I can say, "Damn, you're good!", we're docked and taking on fuel. Amazing!

We received some liquid nourishment while there (at no charge from a very nice bartender who didn't mind giving up 3 Cokes to 3 very weary travelers). As we pulled away, we began to get settled in, and Lee decided to continue on as captain. Fred and I settled into our seats and let Lee do the driving. Not much more than 45 minutes away from the fuel dock, Fred and I were near comatose, while Lee seemed to be enjoying the sun and beautiful scenery when all of a sudden there was a loud "thump" that emanated from underneath the boat. This was followed by a shuddering feeling that didn't want to quit. We all sprang up as if someone had electrified our seats, and we held our breath. "What was that?", I asked. Lee said, as he looked behind the boat, "There it is. A piece of driftwood."

Great! We've made it this far without incident, and not only do we hit something, but it seems to have done some type of damage to the underwater gear of my new baby. My first and only concern was, are we taking on water? If we are, then we need to move into some other mode and get the boat to safety. If we're not, then okay... we'll deal with it. Lee requests Fred to go and view the shaft logs and bilges for any additional incoming water. Fred is gone for what felt like 4 days, and then re-appears to state that everything looked fine. Lee had throttled down by this time, not wanting to rattle our teeth out of our heads (6kts), and he begins to get his own wheels turning on our next move.

He reminds us of the holiday weekend and the slim likelihood that a lift would be able to assist us if the damage is severe. He also begins looking at his chart for some reason. He turns to Fred and says, "Take over. I'm going to change. I'm going swimming." I've known Lee for over three years now, and I knew that would be his next move. I just wanted to see how long it would take him before his curiosity got the best of him. He had to see right here, right now, just what damage we sustained. He suited up, and instructed Fred to pull over into a small cove. We had plenty of water, provided we didn't drift too far inland. If we did, we might find we had more trouble than a bent or missing prop blade. 

Fred cut off the engines, despite Lee's insistence that they could remain running. Lee just wanted to make sure the transmissions were out of gear. Fred wouldn't hear of it. He cut the engines, and Lee went in the water. Lee was underwater and behind the boat for what felt like 16 weeks, when he reappeared and stated the only possible scenario was a bent prop blade, although he couldn't feel anything too out of place.

Passing a Chris Craft Roamer in the Delaware Bay

Entering the C&D Canal

We rejoiced. We were back on track, and moving at our regular speed. Life was once again good, and I felt the world suddenly lift off my shoulders. If I had been a drinking man, we would've certainly popped one open for the celebration.

We finally made it to the Chesapeake Bay, just in time for the 4:30 squall line of short storms that seem to be so well-timed as to set your watch by them. The waters roughened up a bit, and we began securing things as we ran through it. My new 42' had seen it all during this trip: rivers, the ocean, calm and rolling seas, a submerged object and now a storm system passing over us. The Rhode River was our destination, where we were to fuel up and stay for the night. This marina happened to be Fred's marina, where he keeps his 1969 38' Commander. His wife, Eileen, was to meet us there, and take Fred home, leaving Lee and I to make the last leg (day) of the journey by ourselves. Eileen, and their daughter, along with two other Commander Club friends met us at the dock, and took a tour of the boat. They were impressed with her size and accommodations, and then urged us to get things straight so we could go out to dinner. We ate at a local German restaurant, eating traditional German fare. 

Passing a lighthouse in the Chesapeake Bay

Following the meal, we made our way back to the marina where we said our goodbyes to Fred, and his family. We were blessed to have Fred along with us, and felt rather sorry he wouldn't be able to cross the finish line with us, but this was, after all, the complete trip he had planned long ago (in 2002), when he had his eye on another Commander. For Fred, his journey was complete. For Lee and I, we still had a big day ahead of us, and we needed a good night's rest to ensure an alert and successful day. Lee did his nightly "communications ritual", and I retired to my bunk. Thoughts of the final day of our journey left me excited and anxious. 

Bringing Baby Home (Day Four)

Day Four, our last day and last leg of the journey, started with little fanfare. Lee made a cursory check of the engines, while I tidied up the cabin and began to get the cockpit ready for another day of cruising. This day, however, would be different in many ways. The number onboard had dropped by 33%, losing Fred to his hometown of Annapolis, Maryland, which meant the bulk of the driving would be handled by two; Lee and I. Not a problem. It also meant we would be making our way home. In one way, it felt like we had only been gone a day or two, and in other ways, a lifetime. Our beloved families would be waiting for us on the other end, and we would get to sleep in real beds, taking real showers and eating real food.

We pulled out of the Rhode River, taking in the beautiful morning we had been given, and cranked up the RPM's as we headed back out into the Bay. The water began rather calmly, then began to roll a bit. Our speed was keeping at a steady 14kts to 15kts, and we were making good time. I took the helm while Lee began planning for the fuel stop. It was to ultimately be in Kilmarnock, VA, where we anticipated the gas prices to be cheaper than in Maryland. We called ahead, and discovered the marina was about 7 miles off our charted course.

As we pulled into the marina, I could see only a little bit of activity in this quaint little boatyard. A young man was making his way down the dock as we pulled up, followed by an older, larger gentleman. As we tied up, the older man began asking questions about the boat (model, year, etc.). He turned to the young boy and told him, "This is a classic, here. This is a Commander, and in its day, it was a 'gentleman's yacht'."

I beamed with pride as the gentleman kept on about the virtues of my new baby. He asked if he could board the boat and take a look. I readily agreed, and continued fueling. When I was finished, and went to pay for the gas, the gentleman walked into the Ship's Store where I was concluding the transaction, and began talking to the locals about the boat. Everyone listened intently as he went on about it being a 'classic' and a real 'beauty'. I simply smiled and nodded, wondering if I was going to be able to get my swelled head out the small door. Yet another prideful moment, of which there were many on this adventure.

Lee and I pulled off, and I quickly resumed my post as "Crab Pot Locator", dodging quite a few of the many pots laid out to catch one of the Bay's best assets - BLUE CRABS.

We're heading home on the Chesapeake Bay - Day Four

As a small side note, it should be well-known by now that Lee is not one to take kindly to being out of range regarding his cell phone. It worries him when he can't reach someone, or someone can't reach him. We soon discovered that the Bay, unlike many of the other areas we had traveled, was not cell phone friendly. A weak signal plagued us for several hours, finally rendering our phones nothing more than devices from which we could get the current time. And nothing more. Lee tried and tried to get through to his wife, Jodie, while I tried to get in touch with my partner, Jamie. We didn't have any luck on this front and finally gave up on it. Periodically, we would check signal strength, to no avail. It was not until we reached the Norfolk shoreline that we were able to get even a weak signal by which to make phone calls.

As we approached the Bay Bridge Tunnel, I could feel myself beginning to get both excited and more relaxed. We were just about home, and we were within an hour, or so, of seeing family and friends . We had essentially made it, but I wanted to contain my enthusiasm as to not jinx it.

We pulled into the Elizabeth River at or about 6PM, with familiar sights all around us. Pulling out was a large cruise ship, a couple of container ships (making good time, I might add), and the good old Naval Base. Lee and I immediately, almost in unison, thought a call to the boat's previous owner, Mr. McNew, was in order, so we dialed the number and told him where we were, and when we expected to pull into the marina. He was equally as excited, and asked a myriad of questions, none of which can I recall now due to the extreme excitement of the moment.

As we entered the small channel towards the marina, Lee and I both fell relatively silent knowing we (along with our dear buddy Fred) had done what many thought impossible: we had awoken this sleepy motor yacht after slumbering for almost two years, and in sight of 48 hours, prepared her for the journey of a lifetime, for all its crew, and for herself. Not only had her crew made it home safely, but she did as well. 

We rounded the corner heading for our slip, and what do I see in the distance? A host of friends and family welcoming us home in a way befitting a war hero. Lee did his final "10" docking, and backed the boat into its slip with ease, and we tied off with the help of friends. They couldn't wait to board, to give hugs, to plant kisses, and to offer their congratulatory remarks about our 4-day feat. And, of course, there were the tours of the boat that would go on for several weeks following our return.

Friends and family joined us for a delicious meal at one of Portsmouth's more noted taverns "Barron's Pub", and lots of toasts being made in honor of our success. What a thrilling time for all of us, especially Lee and I.

We had done it. We had worked tirelessly in the weeks prior to the journey, and in what can only be deemed good fortune, the plans fell into place like a well-choreographed ballet, never missing a beat and never missing a mark. And in a way, it was a sad moment, too. As two tired and sea-weary travelers, Lee and I were very much ready for a few "land days", but for myself, I secretly wished there had been one or two more days of traveling. Things had gone so well, and I think our baby would've taken us anywhere we wanted to go. All we needed were the keys and a little fuel (okay... a LOT of fuel). But as our plans played out in such a precise way, so did the ending to our passage. It was indeed a success.

Resting comfortably in her Virginia slip - Day Four

With a little help from my friends (the "thank you's")

Success doesn't happen without a little help, and I'd like to publicly thank Fred Delavan for acting as co-captain, chart extraordinaire and chief "sandwich maker" (he makes a killer deli sandwich!). Lee and I had originally designed the trip as a "trip for two", when Fred piped up and offered his assistance, his charts and his good spirit. We gladly accepted and I'm ever so thankful for his friendship and assistance. 

I'd like to also thank Dann Lockwood of Dodson's Boatyard for helping Lee prepare "CALLIOPE" (now M/V "Command Performance") for this excursion. Dodson's was touted to us as a first rate facility, and Mr. Lockwood served only to validate and exceed those claims. 

The "Silent Angel" who needs as much recognition as almost anyone involved with this adventure: Rick Traskos. Mr. Traskos came to my aid very early on in the pre-planning stages, helping to keep me relaxed when things looked as if they were going to go south. Rick also came ready to work when Lee paid the boat its first visit. His assistance in the mechanical area made it possible for Lee to make miracles happen. (And who else would scrub someone else's boat toilet in preparation for a surveyor?) Rick is a very selfless individual who worked behind the scenes to make this journey successful, and I will always hold him in the highest of regards. He is, and will always be, a dear friend.

None of my boating dreams would have ever come true without the love and support of my beloved Jamie. He is my world. He has supported me and aided me in bringing the joy of boating into our lives. His endless love and devotion keep me going, and kept me sane during the months leading up to, and during the acquisition of the newest member of our family; our beloved "Command Performance". All my love to him. 

I owe an incredible debt of gratitude to an unspoken hero here; one who made it possible for Jamie and I to realize a dream: Sanders McNew. Sanders and I spent an incredible amount of bandwidth prior to our deal, and he continued to offer information, support and assistance while I made the necessary arrangements in taking ownership of his treasured 42' Commander. A simple "thank you" does not seem adequate, but we both offer it to Sanders from the heart. We can only hope that he finds equal enjoyment from our "other child", the 1968 31' Commander he received from us.

And finally, I need to thank the one person in my life who has become not only a friend, but someone I love and cherish like a brother. Lee Dahlen. It is once in a lifetime that you meet someone with whom you seem to be able to share all of life's experiences; someone who truly cares; someone that exemplifies the word friend. I was fortunate, back in 2000, to meet such a person. Lee and I formed a friendship immediately, a bond that has seen us both through joyful and sorrowful times. The acquisition of this Commander was one of those joyous moments, and I couldn't think of another person I would have rather shared this thrill than Lee. He made miracles happen, and took to heart his position in this adventure, that of "Captain". As much as I take pride in knowing that we made it happen, I know my biggest debt of gratitude goes to him. He truly made it happen. Thank you, Lee. 

In closing, let me also express my thanks to all the members of the worldwide Chris Craft Commander Club. Their support over the years, their advice and their dedication to these fine vessels has made boating much more meaningful for me.

Design and Content  ©2004 - Rob Cutchins