As mentioned in my earlier thread, the Ericson 28 and 30 Plus were at the top of my wish list.
</SPAN>
But when one of you recommended an Ericson 29, I added it as well. So when a 29 showed up as part of the City of Long Beach’s annual boat auction, I thought I’d go check it out.
</SPAN>
The auction was scheduled for this past Saturday. So I stopped by Friday morning for a look. But only a few boats were there. Most would be delivered later, a clerk told me. I didn’t see the E29, however a fairly modern racer/cruiser caught my eye. Although it was dirty and suffering from years of disuse, she looked way too nice to be let go for back rent. I didn’t recognize the design and nothing on the auction flyer looked to be this new. I asked the clerk but she had no clue. ‘If it’s not on the list, it’s not be part of the auction,’ she said without interest.
</SPAN>
Perplexed, but undaunted, I snapped a few photos with my phone and went back to work. That afternoon I came back. Still didn’t see the E29, but the R/C boat was still there. Potential bidders were milling about and several were paying special attention to the mystery boat. One guy with a clip board and looking like he came straight out of that auction show, “Storage Wars” was making notes. I ask him, ‘hey, is this one in the auction?’ </SPAN>
‘Yeah, he says. It’s the Ericson 29?’
</SPAN>
‘You sure?’, I retort.
</SPAN>
‘Yep’, he says knowingly, with a tip of his red cap, ‘Typical ’70s Ericson. Made as a racer. But look at all that freeboard. Never was successful. So now it’s just a big ol’ daysailer. Looks cool, but not worth much.’ </SPAN>
OK dude, whatever. The boat looks nothing like a ‘70s vintage Ericson. I’m calling BS. But why argue? So I continue sniffing around. Something about it looks familiar. I’ve seen those funny oblong slots in the transom before. But where? </SPAN>
I look up, across the turning basin and spy Brown Sugar, an Express 37. Same transom. I pace out the length. Thirty feet. Hmm, Never heard of an Express 30. </SPAN>
I rush back to my office to hit the internet. There’s an Express 34 and a 27. No. Neither fit. Let’s try another approach. The express 37 was drawn by Carl Schumacher. Did he design any 30 footers? I check sailboatdata.com. There’s the Sonoma 30. Nice, but not it. Capo 30. Could be. Check the auction list. No Capos listed. Olson 911. That’s it! But the windows are wrong and there's definately no Olson's listed. 911SE. BINGO!!! The E is for Ericson and it’s 29 feet and change. </SPAN>
I’ve lusted after an Olson 911 for years. Almost as fast as my old J29, but with standing headroom, enclosed head and bunks for six. Marlo, my wife, might just go for that.
</SPAN>
I’m gonna buy this thing!!!</SPAN>
But first I gotta get the boss’s OK. And then there’s the actual auction. </SPAN>
Fortunately, my wife is awesome. I met her on a race boat and just this past Wednesday, I babysat the kids while she raced on her dad’s boat. Over a glass of wine, I pop the question. She gives me the go ahead.</SPAN>
The next problem will be my minuscule five-grand budget. I’d just started shopping. Researching, really. I hadn’t planned to buy before next winter, when I’d have enough saved to afford a late 70’s or early 80’s fixer. An Olson 911 wasn’t even on my radar. As many of you know, the 911 is a well-loved and sought after racer/cruiser that sells for way more than I’ve got. And auctions can turn into bidding frenzies driving prices to atronomical heights. Who knows what this one will fetch.
</SPAN>
But… No one knows there's a 911 up for sale. It’s being advertised as an Ericson 29. So I got that going for me.
</SPAN>
Saturday morning: official inspection starts at eight. I show at seven. There are already a couple of dozen people walking the dock. By eight, the crowd numbers around 100, and everyone’s talking about “lot 32”, the fast-lookin’ Ericson 29. Most people are confused. It doesn’t look like an Ericson, they say. Maybe it’s a one-off. They’re scribbling notes and kicking tires, strutting around, talking big. Most are clearly duffers and won’t be a factor. But I'm watching the guys that’re keeping quiet, lurking around the fringes. You know the type, wheelin' the boats you don’t see in the box until about ten seconds ‘til the flag drops. Those are the guys I’m worrying about. Long Beach may not be Annapolis or Newport, but we’ve still got plenty of sailors that know what’s what. The boat’s been moored in plain sight for several days and it was naive of me to think I’d be the only one to recognize it.
</SPAN>
The auction starts at nine AM sharp. First up are the sabots, kayaks, and inflatables lined up around the parking lot. Bidding is spirited. A crappy sabot goes for 3 times what I pegged it at. Same with several other boats. </SPAN>
I downgrade my expectations. Oh well, it’s been fun dreaming. And it was a fixer-upper anyway. Dirty as hell, no spin pole or race sails. Running rigging is green with mildew; motor is missing a starter. But the deck hardware looks good. Harken all around. Upgraded winches. Self tailers on the house and 3 speed primaries. And most importantly, the deck feels stiff and strong.</SPAN>
After twenty minutes the action moves down on the dock. I follow the crowd. The auctioneer efficiently moves through the list, but I’m not paying a lot of attention. Most of the boats are derelicts you’d have to pay me to take home. I slink over to my target, getting in position. </SPAN>
Then before I know it, the guy with the mic is hailing, “Next up. Lot 32, an Ericson 29”. The crowd packs tight around the boat. There’s defiantly a buzz in the air now. Bidding starts low. I count about a dozen cards raised as the price moves rapidly from $500 to a grand, to fifteen hundred. Then I notice my feet are wet. There are so many people crowded around the boat that the dock is sinking!</SPAN>
A couple of guys drop out as the number gets to $2,500. By three, only a few are left. I wade in, trying to be casual, yet putting out a vibe that says, ‘don’t bother boys. This one’s mine’. At least that’s what I’m telling myself. But the bidders are thinning out. By thirty three hundred there’s just a couple of guys and me. At this point, I just keep my card up, signaling my determination. My ‘buy-it-at-any-price’ vibe is working .
</SPAN>
Then I hear it. “SOLD, to…” And the auctioneer is pointing at me, looking for my bidders number. But I’m in shock. My card’s upside down and the inked number is all-but bled off into my sweaty palm.
</SPAN>
Did I just buy a 1990 Olson 911SE for $3,700? Hell yeah I did! Woooohooo!!! Several other whoops go up across the crowd and a few bidders shake my hand in congratulations. One guy asks incredulously, ‘you do know what you just bought, don’t ya?” </SPAN>
It's been a few days now, and I’m still in shock, pretty overwhelmed. Gonna have a ton of questions. So you’ll be hearing a lot from me.</SPAN>
The adventure has just begun.
</SPAN>
Steve Aichele</SPAN>
1990 Olson 911SE,
#135</SPAN>
</SPAN>
But when one of you recommended an Ericson 29, I added it as well. So when a 29 showed up as part of the City of Long Beach’s annual boat auction, I thought I’d go check it out.
</SPAN>
The auction was scheduled for this past Saturday. So I stopped by Friday morning for a look. But only a few boats were there. Most would be delivered later, a clerk told me. I didn’t see the E29, however a fairly modern racer/cruiser caught my eye. Although it was dirty and suffering from years of disuse, she looked way too nice to be let go for back rent. I didn’t recognize the design and nothing on the auction flyer looked to be this new. I asked the clerk but she had no clue. ‘If it’s not on the list, it’s not be part of the auction,’ she said without interest.
</SPAN>
Perplexed, but undaunted, I snapped a few photos with my phone and went back to work. That afternoon I came back. Still didn’t see the E29, but the R/C boat was still there. Potential bidders were milling about and several were paying special attention to the mystery boat. One guy with a clip board and looking like he came straight out of that auction show, “Storage Wars” was making notes. I ask him, ‘hey, is this one in the auction?’ </SPAN>
‘Yeah, he says. It’s the Ericson 29?’
</SPAN>
‘You sure?’, I retort.
</SPAN>
‘Yep’, he says knowingly, with a tip of his red cap, ‘Typical ’70s Ericson. Made as a racer. But look at all that freeboard. Never was successful. So now it’s just a big ol’ daysailer. Looks cool, but not worth much.’ </SPAN>
OK dude, whatever. The boat looks nothing like a ‘70s vintage Ericson. I’m calling BS. But why argue? So I continue sniffing around. Something about it looks familiar. I’ve seen those funny oblong slots in the transom before. But where? </SPAN>
I look up, across the turning basin and spy Brown Sugar, an Express 37. Same transom. I pace out the length. Thirty feet. Hmm, Never heard of an Express 30. </SPAN>
I rush back to my office to hit the internet. There’s an Express 34 and a 27. No. Neither fit. Let’s try another approach. The express 37 was drawn by Carl Schumacher. Did he design any 30 footers? I check sailboatdata.com. There’s the Sonoma 30. Nice, but not it. Capo 30. Could be. Check the auction list. No Capos listed. Olson 911. That’s it! But the windows are wrong and there's definately no Olson's listed. 911SE. BINGO!!! The E is for Ericson and it’s 29 feet and change. </SPAN>
I’ve lusted after an Olson 911 for years. Almost as fast as my old J29, but with standing headroom, enclosed head and bunks for six. Marlo, my wife, might just go for that.
</SPAN>
I’m gonna buy this thing!!!</SPAN>
But first I gotta get the boss’s OK. And then there’s the actual auction. </SPAN>
Fortunately, my wife is awesome. I met her on a race boat and just this past Wednesday, I babysat the kids while she raced on her dad’s boat. Over a glass of wine, I pop the question. She gives me the go ahead.</SPAN>
The next problem will be my minuscule five-grand budget. I’d just started shopping. Researching, really. I hadn’t planned to buy before next winter, when I’d have enough saved to afford a late 70’s or early 80’s fixer. An Olson 911 wasn’t even on my radar. As many of you know, the 911 is a well-loved and sought after racer/cruiser that sells for way more than I’ve got. And auctions can turn into bidding frenzies driving prices to atronomical heights. Who knows what this one will fetch.
</SPAN>
But… No one knows there's a 911 up for sale. It’s being advertised as an Ericson 29. So I got that going for me.
</SPAN>
Saturday morning: official inspection starts at eight. I show at seven. There are already a couple of dozen people walking the dock. By eight, the crowd numbers around 100, and everyone’s talking about “lot 32”, the fast-lookin’ Ericson 29. Most people are confused. It doesn’t look like an Ericson, they say. Maybe it’s a one-off. They’re scribbling notes and kicking tires, strutting around, talking big. Most are clearly duffers and won’t be a factor. But I'm watching the guys that’re keeping quiet, lurking around the fringes. You know the type, wheelin' the boats you don’t see in the box until about ten seconds ‘til the flag drops. Those are the guys I’m worrying about. Long Beach may not be Annapolis or Newport, but we’ve still got plenty of sailors that know what’s what. The boat’s been moored in plain sight for several days and it was naive of me to think I’d be the only one to recognize it.
</SPAN>
The auction starts at nine AM sharp. First up are the sabots, kayaks, and inflatables lined up around the parking lot. Bidding is spirited. A crappy sabot goes for 3 times what I pegged it at. Same with several other boats. </SPAN>
I downgrade my expectations. Oh well, it’s been fun dreaming. And it was a fixer-upper anyway. Dirty as hell, no spin pole or race sails. Running rigging is green with mildew; motor is missing a starter. But the deck hardware looks good. Harken all around. Upgraded winches. Self tailers on the house and 3 speed primaries. And most importantly, the deck feels stiff and strong.</SPAN>
After twenty minutes the action moves down on the dock. I follow the crowd. The auctioneer efficiently moves through the list, but I’m not paying a lot of attention. Most of the boats are derelicts you’d have to pay me to take home. I slink over to my target, getting in position. </SPAN>
Then before I know it, the guy with the mic is hailing, “Next up. Lot 32, an Ericson 29”. The crowd packs tight around the boat. There’s defiantly a buzz in the air now. Bidding starts low. I count about a dozen cards raised as the price moves rapidly from $500 to a grand, to fifteen hundred. Then I notice my feet are wet. There are so many people crowded around the boat that the dock is sinking!</SPAN>
A couple of guys drop out as the number gets to $2,500. By three, only a few are left. I wade in, trying to be casual, yet putting out a vibe that says, ‘don’t bother boys. This one’s mine’. At least that’s what I’m telling myself. But the bidders are thinning out. By thirty three hundred there’s just a couple of guys and me. At this point, I just keep my card up, signaling my determination. My ‘buy-it-at-any-price’ vibe is working .
</SPAN>
Then I hear it. “SOLD, to…” And the auctioneer is pointing at me, looking for my bidders number. But I’m in shock. My card’s upside down and the inked number is all-but bled off into my sweaty palm.
</SPAN>
Did I just buy a 1990 Olson 911SE for $3,700? Hell yeah I did! Woooohooo!!! Several other whoops go up across the crowd and a few bidders shake my hand in congratulations. One guy asks incredulously, ‘you do know what you just bought, don’t ya?” </SPAN>
It's been a few days now, and I’m still in shock, pretty overwhelmed. Gonna have a ton of questions. So you’ll be hearing a lot from me.</SPAN>
The adventure has just begun.
</SPAN>
Steve Aichele</SPAN>
1990 Olson 911SE,
#135</SPAN>
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