Captain Hoarder and the Boat From Texas

Captain Dave is a great guy. Funny, kind and can fix just about anything; he's like a mixture of Professor Dumbledore and Inspector Gadget. Dave is what some people might call a hoarder. He's the guy who keeps things in their packaging to save the instructions and doesn't throw things out "just in case it comes in handy some day". These aren't such bad intentions, but on a 36 foot boat, it's not OK.

I have a bunk in the boat where I sleep and store my stuff. I was rather pleased when I first saw it because it seemed reasonably sized for a boat. Usually, I'm accustomed to having a bit more space than other people because of my small stature. Not here.

"How tall are you?" Dave asked
"5 foot"
He pulled out his measuring tape and measured the bunk.
"5 and a half ought to do it then" he said putting a giant tool box at the end of my bed. "You're not exactly wide either" he continued as he placed a huge inflatable life boat by my side. There is now a Maya shaped hole in my bunk surrounded by mountains of things.

The boat is exploding with stuff. Granted, I have no idea what you need to make a boat work. Maybe he needs all 400 ropes we have on board (Dale and Mike say he doesn't), but I'm pretty sure we don't need 2 kettles or every book on Canadian wildlife ever written.

The boat is called Evensong and comes from Wichita Falls, Texas. That's right, Texas. Almost every person who walks past asks how on earth a boat from inland Texas made its way up to Rimouski, Quebec.

She was built in 1967 and has almost no original parts. Unlike most boat owners, Dave has picked up most of her interior from yard sales and the Salvation Army. The door is a floor, the table is a door and the seat is a table. It's all rather ingenious really.

Dale finds the state of the boat horrifying and frustrating, Mike thinks it's hilarious and I'm somewhere in between.