This article first appeared in the April 2018 edition of Freshwater News.  Marine swap meets are a shining example of boating capitalism.  To say nothing of the Law of Conservation of Energy, which states that energy never disappears, it just changes forms.  Or something like that…

As I put ink to paper here (or whatever the laptop computer equivalent is) it’s just turned spring in the Pacific Northwest.  It’s still raining, but the rain is…well…warmer.  Fellow sailors are migrating back to the marinas to start removing the green winter coats that so many boats have worn all winter, and meanwhile, that annual rite of spring passage is showing itself once again.

Yep.  It’s the season of the marine swap meet.

These things have a weird allure for me.  For starters, I don’t particularly enjoy going to regular garden variety garage sales, and I sure don’t like to work at them.  And the mere mention of spending a Saturday afternoon “antiquing” is enough for me to check the position fix of nearby pubs in the general vicinity of whatever “antiquing” neighborhood I’m about to get dragged to.  To say nothing of calculating the time/distance numbers BETWEEN all those pubs.  As Pop taught me, it’s always prudent to be prepared with alternative Ports of Refuge.

Marine swap meets are different, though.  I know, I know, we’re talking boat stuff, and that makes all the difference.  Perhaps, but the fact of the matter is, I still have a dock box AND a storage unit filled with “boat stuff” that I’ve bought at these things, stuff that in many cases has never seen the light of day.  A quick rummaging through my storage unit the other day revealed, in no particular order, the following:

1. A plastic tub filled with a few dozen stainless steel deck fittings, most of which I’d never be able to use;
2. Two BRAND NEW Lewmar® winches, still looking for an appropriate mounting location in my cockpit;
3. A sea anchor that could probably secure Paul Allen’s mega yacht (at least one of them) in a category five typhoon (what it would do for my Catalina 36 I’m not sure; probably yank it down to the seabed);
4. A folding crab pot that’s seen exactly zero crabs;

It doesn’t matter.  You don’t buy this stuff at a marine swap meet because you need it.  You buy this stuff at a marine swap meet because you MIGHT need it someday.  It’s like the guy who got into my wallet for $50 when he sold me that Mack Truck-sized sea anchor: “Eric, you don’t want to get caught in an offshore storm and THEN wish you’d bought this indispensable safety item.”  I was sold.

In all fairness, not everything I’ve bought at marine swap meets has languished in my dock box, unused.  A few years ago, I picked up a brand new, mint-condition Lifesling®, in a hard case no less.  It still hangs on the pushpit of our boat, waiting to be deployed.  Also, we bought a full set of really nifty signal jacks to fly from our rigging.  They look fantastic every July 4^th.  And one year at the Schooner Creek Fall Swap Meet, my ever-patient wife bought a set of dinner plates depicting various legendary sailing vessels.  They reside in Cannon Beach most of the time, and come in pretty darned handy when the evening meal consists of crab (bought at the local fish market, of course, since our folding crab pot never actually catches crab).

All of this leads us (sort of) to that “zero sum marine swap meet game” I mentioned at the beginning of this column (remember that?).  On at least a couple of occasions, I’ve actually bought booth space myself at a swap meet, the obvious intention being to clear out my dock box of unused items, while pulling in a few bucks that could be used more judiciously (like during my next Saturday spent “antiquing”).  Anyway, on every occasion I’ve managed to unload any number of items, including hand-operated bilge pumps, old dock cleats, or a used cruising guide or two.  One time, I even sold a pair of antique wooden skis once (not water skis, mind you; the kind you’re supposed to use on snow).  Unfortunately, on every occasion I’ve sold off boat stuff, I’ve also managed to walk the meet and buy more or less the same amount of boat stuff from other vendors.  At the end of the day, the dock box was just as full, just with different stuff, and I’d achieved that zero sum game I was talking about.  Perfect.

And maybe that’s the way marine swap meets were meant to be.  A constant exchange of goods that basically make the rounds and re-appear every year.  At least if I’m buying or selling them.

And so gentle reader, get ready!  Spring is here (unless you live in Boston).  Clean out your garage, convince your spouse that you have a fun way to spend a Saturday, fill up the back of your car or truck, and get in line at whatever swap meet is closest to you.  You’ll be offering a vital service to the greater boating community in general, and who knows?  You might find that one piece of indispensable safety equipment, that nearly-full set of ratchets, or those dock fenders that you’ve been lacking.

Does anyone want to buy a super-sized sea anchor?  Never used.  I’ll let you have it for…$75.