I didn’t mean to buy an old wooden boat. At age 24, the 53-year-old Atkin ketch was what I could afford. But there was something else about Tosca that drew me in. The bulkheads groaned, the mast creaked, and in even in a tranquil cove, the barn-door rudder gently swung, as if she couldn’t sit still. Made mostly of oak, cedar, spruce and teak, the old gaffer was alive.
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