I've been lucky enough to spend the past few winters cruising the Bahamas in my old 35' Rasmus ketch. When I tell people this, they get a dreamy look in their eyes, and you can see they're conjuring up images of tropical sunsets, warm transparent waters, and trade winds driving the boat along on a comfortable reach. And while all of this good stuff does exist, and you even get to experience it from time to time, what really brings us back cruising year after year is the people we meet.

what really brings us back cruising year after year is the people we meet.

Cruisers are this wonderfully self reliant subset of society. They're out there living their dreams, and having adventures along the way, so are a pretty happy bunch. Most of those "adventures" have to do with torn sails, groundings, docking mishaps, and gear failures - all pretty entertaining stuff to recount, over a drink, once you've survived the episode. But living aboard, you stay busy maintaining and repairing the boat, trying to avoid too much more fun of that nature. That's why one popular definition of cruising is "working on your boat in exotic locales".

The guys all spend an inordinate amount of time admiring each others innovations and field repairs. Anchored off a remote island, far from any marine services, you get more status points for coming up with a creative fix, built from materials at hand, than you do for flying in the proper part from West marine. And of course, the ultimate statement of self sufficiency is the home built boat. These are the guys who are doing it right, because they can fix everything aboard.

This last March, we were anchored in the lee of Warderic Wells, waiting out some breezy weather, when a beautiful little Elco 26 chugged past. I recognized the design thanks to the Weston Farmer articles in Messing About. Now this boat wasn't some tack and tape wonder, coated with house paint, but one of those museum quality gems you see on the cover of "Wooden Boat". This was obviously a home built boat of the highest order, and I was over the side and in the dinghy, before they even had their anchor rode cleated. I introduced myself, admired their vessel, and soon enough was aboard, getting the tour.

Her name was "Traveler", very appropriate in a craft from Yellville, Arkansas ("The Arkansas Traveler" is a famous American folk song). The owners were Don and Gayle, and they'd already been in the islands for 6 weeks, which is a long cruise on a 26' boat. Traveler was beautiful, but also small, simple and spartan by modern standards. What was really impressive was all the stuff they didn't have aboard. There were no banks of electronics, no portable generator perched on deck, no television nor stereo system. And no stainless gantry hanging off the transom, no solar panels nor forest of antennae. These folks were simply enjoying being out on the water, with none of the modern distractions dragged along.

The wind continued to blow, so we wound up dodging weather with Traveler for the next few weeks, and learned more of their story. It turns out Don was a native of the Miami area, and had spent his youth wandering around Biscayne Bay, in any floating contraption he could conjure up. Then the happy hippy days of the sixties and seventies found him anchored off Coconut Grove, part of the wannabe cruiser feet that flourished there, before big development decided that boats at anchor were an eyesore.

Members of this floating community would work menial jobs for a few months (or years), and spend their evenings trying to keep their homes afloat. The goal was to sail off to the islands and have adventures, if they ever got both their boats and finances shipshape at the same time. Don was part of this scene for 23 years, and worked a variety of jobs, but eventually settled in as a carpenter. Gayle came onto the scene as the cute Blond living on a neighboring boat, without a dinghy. Gallant Don naturally became her chauffeur.

What was really impressive was all the stuff they didn't have aboard. There were no banks of electronics, no portable generator perched on deck, no television nor stereo system.

Don's first floating home was a 35' Cuban fishing smack, that he bought from early Castro refugees in 1959. He wandered the S.E. coast and the Bahamas in that $300 boat for 14 years, repairing it as needed, and eventually adding a cabin over over the aft fish hold. He also re-rigged her as a schooner. Then he moved on to a wooden 35' Alden ketch, a bargain due to her tender condition. Rather than glass her over, he covered the hull with layers of cedar strips and epoxy, producing a cold molded skin attached to the Alden plug. This was his home for more years, until eventually he got his hands on a fiberglass Hans Christian 33. Finally with a sound craft, he headed across the Atlantic, visited the Med, and then eventually sailed her back to Florida, broke again.

Around 1995, Don and Gayle got the bug for some real estate, and so headed across the country, looking for cheaper land than Florida offered. An early stop was in Arkansas, where they wound up buying the first place they looked at. There they kept busy for several years, building a house and shop, and then Don's aging mother moved in with them. They took care of her - for a long time as it turned out - since she lived to be 101. Nice genes to have in the family. Happily, she was in relatively good health, and not that demanding a guest, so to fill his spare time, Don decided to build himself a boat.

He wanted a trailerable craft, but something comfortable enough to live aboard for extended periods. He'd cruised enough to know that sailing rarely happens when you're coasting, so he went for the many benefits that a small power boat can offer. Shoal draft, people shaped living spaces, and lack of rig to limit bridge passage are high on that list.

Don reviewed a bunch of designs, but didn't quite see what he wanted in any of the modern plans. In his inland idle, he had become a Wooden Boat subscriber, and that had reinforced his preference for classic boats with traditional lines. And as a carpenter, he enjoyed a bit of challenging woodwork. So when Don found some Elco 26 plans on line, they looked like just what he had in mind.

There followed the usual progression of building a boat shed, then making the hull. Don was familiar with cold molding, so rather than the framed construction in the design, he built a plug of pine. This was covered with 5 layers of 1/8" cedar strips, glued together with epoxy. The process was tedious, because at each layer, he would carefully remove all the thousands of staples that had held down the cedar below. Finally, the hull was complete, and after one year, and he rolled her over to finish her out. That step took 2 more years, as he worked through every detail in exquisite style.

The plain white hull is set off by a tan deck, with bright transom and trim. The same color scheme is carried below. Some cast bronze bits (fairleads, steering wheel, hinged helmsman stool and ships bell) add the classic touch. The interior is impossibly large for a 26 footer, due to the raised deck and plumb sides. The head is forward in the peak, with a large hatch above, that allows you to work the ground tackle from inside the boat. Then the main cabin features settees port and starboard, and a nice small galley aft. There's a three burner propane stove and sink with pressure water to port, and a counter/navigation area to starboard. Going up 2 steps gets you into the huge cockpit, big enough to host 10 people, or maybe haul a load of traps. Most of this area is shaded by the cockpit roof, with wind and bug screens ready to roll down and snap fast, if conditions warrant. If Traveler were my boat, I'd be tempted to enclose most of that big area, and have a nifty galley and dinette up there, with a view. The big roof is a perfect spot for solar panels and/or a dinghy.

The main cabin features settees port and starboard, and a nice small galley aft. There's a three burner propane stove and sink with pressure water to port, and a counter/navigation area to starboard.

Don put a 2 cylinder Yanmar diesel in, and burns about 1/2 gallon an hour, running around 6 1/2 knots. He has reasonably sized fuel and water tanks, fitted under the watertight cockpit floor. And even a few modern conveniences, like depth sounder, vhf , and refrigeration. There is of course a holding tank forward for the head.

These old sailors report that the Elco does roll under way, especially when compared to their sailing boats. So they have to wait for better weather windows when contemplating open water passages. Still, the huge advantages of her shoal draft and trailer ability make them very happy with the boat. They're set up to explore the rivers, lakes, and coastal waters the boat was designed for. And with an adventurous skipper, Traveler is able enough to cross the gulf stream. They've spent the last two winters in the Bahamas, and their plans this summer include an exploration up the British Columbia coast, perhaps all the way to Alaska. Wherever they wander, they will be welcome, traveling in such a gem.

Elco 26 Plans available from Duckworks

Other Articles about Wes Farmer's Designs:

• Robinson Crusoe
• Simplex
• Shorebird
• Irreducible
• Elco 26
• Tintillee
• Kingfisher
• Poor Richard
• Sure Mike II