Boatyard, as defined in the yellowing pages of my Webster’s New World dictionary, is a noun which means “a place where boats are built and repaired.” This is mostly true, but of course a real boatyard serves a larger purpose than that. It’s a gathering place for people and vessels from all over the world, a meeting site for the queer international brotherhood of the sea, a union of shores and cultures amid the dust and noise of construction. A good boatyard is a place you can walk around and see giant sleek white power yachts alongside beat old rusty sailboats, tight efficient professional passenger and cargo vessels parked next to wild flights of individual fancy. Dreams and careers collide, languages and experiences are shared. Fortunes made and lost. A boatyard is a necessary tradition that has been around as long as humans have worked and recreated on the water.
The yard we were at in Freeport was such a place. Boats of all sizes and build haunted that dusty sand, with strange characters from around the Caribbean working and lurking on each aisle. We were fortunate to meet a few; they are described in this chapter.
Read all about it here.