You don't need a fancy boat or an expensive boat or a large boat to sail, You Need a Boat!!

I know, I know this seems simplistic, but it is the truth. A sailor needs a boat. You don't need a fancy boat or an expensive boat or a large boat, but you need a moderately well-constructed vessel of wholesome design. 

Good Boats Cheap, Cheap Boats Free 

The traditional approach to boat purchasing works well for a certain type of buyer: They identify the type of craft they want, research selected models, visit a broker, and, with the help of a surveyor, close the deal. I have no problem with this method. It's how the majority of cruising vessels are procured today. As I said, it works well for a certain type —a buyer with money. 
Alas, not everyone has a pile of dough idling away in the bank. They might be young or old. Illness might have stolen their retirement nest egg. There are many reasons why good people aren't among the wealthy: bankruptcy, accident, divorce, and an economic downturn are just a few. Even the most successful entrepreneurs are often only one miscalculation away from the poorhouse. 
Don't despair, you there. The reader with empty pockets and a big dream is the very sailor I write for. 
I've always had, and currently, have empty pockets, but yet I've sailed hundreds of thousands of miles offshore and circumnavigated three times in safety and comfort. And so, I have good news for you. Newbie sailors mistakenly think new boats are less trouble than old boats because new cars are more reliable than old ones. This is often false. Many new boats come loaded with problems that will bedevil their owners forever. If you don't believe me, just ask the owner of a three-million-dollar sailboat who complained its keel was wobbling. The reputable company that built the yacht scoffed. Then a few months later, on a calm day off the coast of Spain, the keel fell off and the boat sank within minutes. 
Oops. 
That buyer would have been much better off purchasing a trashed out Westsail 32 for $10,000 had the safety of his family truly been the priority.

Honestly, it's a buyer's market because of the aforementioned "new boat" preference and because so many old boats still have sound bones and refuse to go away. You just have to find the right one. 
Many bargain-hunting, low-end cruising-boat buyers make a horrible mistake. They are looking in the wrong place, as I discovered when I purchased Ganesh, our 43-foot Amphitrite ketch built by Henri Wauquiez. 
Since I only had saved up $40,000 during circumnavigation number two, I was stupidly looking at boats advertised for $50 grand and under. (Yes, one of the reasons we sail around the world is to save the money that shore-bound wage-slaves can't afford to put away towards a new cruising boat.) Silly me. I now know better. Every boat has an asking price and a selling price, and the difference is in the mind of the owner. A (used boat) sticker price of multiple times what I have in my pocket wouldn't scare me off now, and it shouldn't scare you either. Toss out an offer and see what happens. The worst is the owner will say, "No.
" 0K, let's get down to the step-by-step process of obtaining a good boat cheap or a cheap boat free. First, be realistic. You need to forget about buying a boat that's actually worth $100,000 for $10,000. That's not going to happen. You can dream about it, but a dream without a plan is just wishful thinking.
We want results. We want a real boat. So, instead of looking for a miracle to drop out of the sky in the form of a well-found Peterson 44, we're going to look for a worthless boat. 
Yes, I said worthless. 
Money is, by universal agreement, worth something. Nobody is going to trade something for nothing; it is not in their best interest. Thus, you need to find a worthless boat. 
So, here's the good news: There are tons of worthless boats for sale. How do I know? Because they aren't selling. They are, after a year or two on the market, by definition, worthless because no one wants to trade something of worth (money) for them. 
Let that sink in for a while. 
Forget what banks say, or brokers say, or, even crazier, what surveyors are paid to say; look at the marketplace. The hard truth is that boats that don't sell are worthless, or at least worth less than the asking price. Boats that don't sell are also a continuing and increasing burden on their long-suffering owners, who eventually, to add insult to injury, may have to pay for their dismantlement and disposal. 
This is simple Economics 101. So now you've got the concept that the marketplace reveals a boat's true worth. Now I'm going to give you another one: Money is, as previously stated, only one coin-of-the-realm. Sweat equity is another.

My Amphitrite 43 entered the used boat market at $140,000, which was high, according to the tire-kickers. Not so, said the outraged owner, who had originally paid that amount and then spent an additional hundred grand on new gear and substantial improvements. (Yes, the legitimate receipts from prestigious yards were produced.) Nonetheless, other models of the same boat were selling for $100,000, and the trickle of buyers ceased. Years went by; four, to be exact. The engine froze. The rudder ceased to turn, and also many of the winches. The electronics gradually shut down and the battery banks died. The watermaker packed it up. Hoses cracked. Wires corroded. Swages burst. 

Basically, everything stopped but the bills: the yard bill, insurance bill, maintenance bill, water bill, electric bill, poppet rental, and more. I entered the scene, smiled, and said, "I like the boat. We're close, only one digit off. You're asking $140,000 and I have $40,000. What do you say we save time and you take in some money instead of continuing to pay it out, year after year after year? 

They were outraged. They were insulted. They screamed, they hollered, they moaned. I got up and left the room. They followed me into the parking lot bellowing with annoyance. I knew right where they were going to sell me the boat, that it was only a matter of time. People who follow you into the parking lot are motivated sellers; owners who don't, aren't.

The next day they called me and said the price was firm. I surprised them by saying, "Okay, perhaps I was hasty. I like the boat, as I said. I'll pay $140,000 for her if you bring her up to turn-key condition install a new Perkins M92B ($40,000), replace the missing gen-set which was torn out ($12,000), remove rig and replace crushed mast step ($2,000), unfreeze the rudder ($5,000), replace the watermaker ($5,000), replace the dead autopilot ($7,000), re-do the standing rigging ($8,000), and rewire her according to ABYS electrical standards ($12,000). Oh yeah, and replace all the cockpit instruments that were looted over the years ($6,000). That would come to $97,000 and leave only 3K for you to oversee the work for the next couple of years—if nothing goes wrong. That's $100,000 plus my $40,000 is your asking price, right? Or you could just sell the boat to us for $40,000 and we'd do all the work and worrying. It's same-same, really." 

A week later, we bought Ganesh for $56,000. It was a reasonable buy on a very well-constructed craft. 

So that's how to buy a good boat cheap, but that does not help if you have empty pockets. 

Give up? Never!

Here's how to get a cruising boat for free, step by step. 

Find a copy of a year-old classified boat magazine for your area. Start haunting the "bone yards" of your local shipyards, namely the boats whose owners have stopped paying their bills. Ditto the local marinas and any local farms that might have a boat, like a half-disassembled Carl Alberg 35, collecting dust in a barn. IA, That you are looking for is this: discouraged owners who failed to sell their boat. 

Then narrow the list to cruising boats you'd like to buy. 

Further narrow the list of discouraged sellers to boats with a major problem: like a sailboat missing its rig, rudder, or engine. Or one that's been holed, or had a small fire in the engine compartment, etc.

Lastly, limit the list to deals with a ticking clock; The farm where the boat is located is being sold; the marina demands the vessel's removal within the month; divorce looms; somebody is going to jail. (My sister Carole paid pennies for Miz Bligh, her graceful fiberglass Kenner ketch because she purchased it on a Friday and it had to be removed from the sold condo dock by Monday, but the boat had no rudder. Actually, the silly sellers just thought it had no rudder, but the rudder had merely slipped down and was stuck in the mud. I fixed it in four minutes and sped away that Sunday afternoon.) 

Once you find a boat you lust after with a major problem and a ticking clock, go find the owner, cast yourself at his or her feet, and honestly start crying. Do not tell the owner his worthless boat is worthless, tell him exactly the opposite. Tell him that, you, too, love the boat just as much as he did; that you, too, want desperately to sail it around the world; that you, too, would still love to have the dream come true however possible; and that you would be happy to invite him to Tahiti or New Zealand or Borneo to visit. Then mention that you have no money and thus have to pray for a miracle, and ask if the owner happens to have any miracles in his pocket, pretty-please? 

Pie in the sky? Nope. Hundreds of people have acquired solid-if-neglected cruising boats in exactly this revive-the-dream approach that I've outlined in my book, Buy, Outfit, & Sail. Don't believe me? Ask the proactive, highly personable Christopher Adams of North Florida who followed these steps to be gifted a 20-foot Balboa, purchase a lovely Westerly 26 for $400, and, wonders upon wonders, have an old duffer lay a perfectly sound Ericson 35 MKII on him for $1,000 cash. 

Here's the sobering truth of it; not all dreams reach fruition. Life can get in the way if you're not careful. But just because your neighbor failed to sail to Tahiti is no reason you can't. And many of those same neighbors have boats that have become, for one reason or another, essentially worthless.

These owners may have given up their dream, but you can reignite it in a slightly different fashion: You can help them, help you make it happen. People are good. Many of them want you to succeed, even where they failed. All you need to do is apply some sweat equity and a ton of chutzpah. 

Goofy? 

Nah. I know of which I speak: I grew up aboard the $100 Elizabeth, sailed away with Carolyn aboard the $200 Corina, crossed my first ocean on the homebuilt Carlotta and circumnavigated twice on the $3,000 Wild Card (at a cost of 3 cents an ocean mile). 

Life can be sweet, especially if you live on a small boat in a big ocean while spending the pennies Scotsmen throw away.