The annual insurance survey on the Betsy. Punk’s holiday means that, for the first time in several years, I had the pleasure of witnessing the surveyor’s incredulity: 'Oh, it’s ferrocement', followed by complete bemusement. Beyond taking core samples, there is no way, that I know, of checking the integrity of a ferrocement hull. As she continues to float and take no water after nearly thirty years, I suggested that there is every reason to assume that she remains sound.
The surveyor had arranged for the boat to be lifted out, so as to inspect the skin fittings, which gave me a chance to examine the hull. After thirty years, this ugliest of boats continues to hold a special place in my affections. It is the only time in my life that I have had the time, opportunity and sheer bloody mindedness to design and fashion something of this kind in my mind, and then bring it to life with my own hands. Yes, goddammit! I remain proud of my ugly duckling. Even if the surveyor was wonderfully dubious.
So, Happy Birthday, the Betsy. The insurers have begrudgingly agreed to grant you another year of life.
"Begin with the possible and move gradually towards the impossible."
