When a professional boat builder spends two years working on a boat just under eight metres long, something could be wrong. When a boat builder with an affinity for regattas, noticeably excited, calls, invites you to a trial sail and mentions "tiles", "minibar" and "carbon fibre rig" in one sentence, something is wrong. Somehow you've always suspected it: paints and solvents can't be healthy in the long term.
On the journey to the Zwischenahner Meer, the brain is working at full speed, trying to somehow fit the building blocks into a sensible grid. And a picture of the owner at the same time. Two years to build an eight-metre-long catboat is not an option, that much is clear. What owner would accept such a long wait? Or to put it another way: What did Jens Dannhus, an experienced boat builder, and Marc-Oliver von Ahlen, an equally practical designer, have in common?
An hour later, the question is answered: a total work of art. A beauty lies in the reeds on a specially constructed jetty. Not sleek and simple like a skerry cruiser. Not modern and stylish like a Wally. But beefy, striking and cosy. Like a Dutch flat-bottomed ship, only more elegant. An American catboat of the very highest calibre. With a typical unstayed rig, full foredeck and seaworthy lines.
But it's more than that. Once the trained eye has quickly assessed a boat lying in the harbour, roughly classifying the equipment and workmanship with just a few glances, you can't stop looking at the "Pomeranian Flounder", as this beauty is called. Is that really ... ? What is ... for? Why ...? And there ...! "Wait and see what else you discover when you're below deck!" - Jens Dannhus has noticed the many glances and grins, von Ahlen nods in agreement.
The accuracy and attention to detail that radiates from the deck is more than enough for now: Halyard stoppers that disappear under a cover, carved emblems on the negative stem, a labelled nail bank, wooden boat hooks on precisely fitting brackets, ball bearing blocks with ash jaws, covered mast rings and shimmering golden cordage. The perfectly laid teak deck is almost lost in all this, as are the immaculate paintwork on the oak superstructure, the white cabin roof and the dark green hull. Here floats a boat that is bursting with attention to detail, just as the triumvirate of owner, designer and boat builder gathered at the jetty are bursting with pride.
"I've never worked on a ship in such detail before," says Marc-Oliver von Ahlen, summarising the past 24 months. "I even bought the glasses and plates so that I could measure them and make the drawings of the drawers on this basis." The interior in general: "Some people think it's too much of a good thing," notes Jens Dannhus, "but it was great fun." And it slowly becomes clear why the five months of hull construction were followed by another 21 months at the shipyard in Dümmer.
It all starts with a sole. The owner of a large food company discovers this 6.5 metre long catboat during a visit to a shipyard and plans to use it as an incentive vehicle for his customers. But it would have to be a little bigger. After further visits and detailed planning, it became clear that only a new design would be able to accommodate all the requirements, from electric propulsion to a comfortable saloon for six people. Above all, guests who are unfamiliar with sailing should feel comfortable on board and remember the day as an experience. With an enormous width, high weight and moderate sail area, it is at least guaranteed that no one will cling anxiously to the coaming because the boat is shifting a lot. Instead, the aim is for guests to soak up the maritime feeling during the excursion, just like in a living open-air museum.
Marc-Oliver von Ahlen joins the team as a designer. A catboat owner himself, he is familiar with the special features of this type of boat. His new design was modelled on the American types, which had long been a popular class on the east coast. At this point, however, no one realises just how much detail he will go into in his drawings for the "Pomeranian Flounder". In the end, he even sketches the painting of the handmade Delft tiles stuck behind the small stove on the cabin bulkhead. "Speaking of the stove," Jens Dannhus interjects. "We installed a gas heater in it for fire safety reasons." The plan to install a smoking oven in line with the company philosophy is the only project that failed. Because of the chimney sweep.
It is now midday and the odd breeze is blowing across the Zwischenahner Meer. The "flounder" is parked backwards without a sound, the 4.3 kilowatt electric motor does the job with ease. However, the question arises as to how the drive is operated - there is not a single switch to be seen in the cockpit. Another knowing smile - from those in the know - as a locker lid is folded up and a complete control panel is pulled out. The bow thruster control is hidden behind another flap. It is no longer surprising that the warning label stuck to the hull is customised. The standard product in white would not have fitted in with the ensemble.
As soon as it comes out of the box, the massive mainsail is set. Ball-bearing blocks and a gaff made of white-painted carbon fibre make the action child's play, which is quite unexpected for this solid-looking ship. But even though 30 square metres of cloth are now hanging in the wind, the "flounder" doesn't get going because of this; it takes a few knots more for the catboat to get up to speed. The wheel, which is classically suspended aft rather than at the front, is correspondingly unfeeling. A hydraulic system moves the massive, retractable rudder blade.
The high coaming conveys a feeling of safety, and you would love to take this ship on an extended autumn trip through the Wadden Sea - fall dry, sit in front of the warm stove and read, sailing from island to island across the foggy North Sea. Nowhere would the "Pomeranian Flounder" be in better hands. Its use as a summer bathing platform on an inland lake is only suitable to a limited extent. But even that can be helped. Once again, the boat builder rummages around in one of the many cupboards and conjures up a handful of carefully cordage-covered brass tubes. Fold here, stick there, and five minutes later a perfect bathing ladder complete with railing hangs from the side deck into the water. And again just minutes later, the designer is already looking at his work from the outside.
Opportunity for an extensive look below deck, where the temperature is surprisingly good despite the summer heat. For once, however, this is not due to a hidden gimmick, but simply the combination of the white-painted coachroof and light-coloured oak side walls. A simple, timelessly elegant look that stands in stark contrast to the cabin. This is more reminiscent of a mix of classic yacht and museum harbour. Anyone who sits down here on the brown, quilted leather upholstery breathes the air of sailing in concentrated form. Rustic hatch panels, heavy paintings with nautical motifs, brass everywhere. In addition, white furniture with coffered doors, a stove with a tiled shield and a companionway bulkhead with a clinker door. Of course, a half-model of your own boat is a must in the saloon.
The available space is used almost lavishly here. We are no longer used to so much quality of life, so much fun in furnishing. Comparably long small cruisers would offer at least six berths and a toilet room. But they would never manage to get a guest to settle down below deck in the bright sunshine.
The salon is much less of a doll's house than you might expect. The three fathers of the "Flounder" have complemented each other perfectly from the idea to the planning to the execution, because even if you get the impression of a nautical antiques collection: everything is well thought out and functional down to the smallest detail. The seating area provides two fully-fledged berths, the centreboard halyard is concealed on deck, the desired television disappears stylishly behind the clock, barometer and hygrometer, and there is even a suitable place for private business - including wooden glasses. The minibar can withstand even a hard day's sailing, lockers and drawers hold all the contents without rattling, and the action radii, dimensions and arrangement of the fittings demonstrate the experience of the shipyard and designer.
And time and again you come across endearing details. The soap dish with wooden brush. The bearing compass and storage area. The spice jars, matching the owner's range of goods. It seems as if the three obsessives are just waiting for the guest to stop and surprise them with the next item. Yes, the generator for charging the on-board batteries is in the box here, in the centre of the cockpit. "It needs to be ventilated." He says, lifts a cover and allows a quick look through the ventilation grille. Then the cover is turned 180 degrees, replaced and the flat cap has become a drinks holder for eight glasses. How fast do you think the boat sails in good winds? "I don't know, we actually wanted to test the log today." And heaves an aged Plath towing log, apparently from old naval stocks, into the cockpit.
Then why not set up the sunshades? Four wooden frames covered to match the boat are inserted into prepared mounts and the entire cockpit is covered in style. It's high time, because our heads are spinning from all the impressions. This is probably the first time that such secondary details have been talked about more than the really important things during a sailing appointment. But seriously: the fact that the hull was built using Dura-Kore battens, laminated with glass fibre and epoxy, or that the carbon rig from Nordic Masts still weighs an impressive 75 kilograms despite the high-tech fibres, is almost irrelevant.
Jens Dannhus agrees, who has long been hanging upside down in the baking box again and this time pulls out a wooden oil barrel with a matching oak hammer. And finally surprises the other people present. The ensemble walks around in reverent amazement and sums up the entire fascination of the "Pomeranian Flounder": in times of mass production and the increasing uniformisation of yachts, the catboat from the Zwischenahner Meer is a real antithesis. It was created because its owner, an experienced cruising sailor of many years' standing, is just as enthusiastic about perfect boat building as he is about classic style elements and witty details. Together with Marc-Oliver von Ahlen and Jens Dannhus, he has designed a boat that fulfils his goal 100 percent. All guests will remember the trip with pleasure and will have savoured the salt air, even though the Zwischenahner Meer is a brackish brown.
Of course, a boat like this is as unsaleable as it is priceless. The boat building work alone swallowed up 7,500 hours of labour, and von Ahlen invested another 600, "as much as a 14-metre yacht". The resulting affection for the project is evident in everyone involved, even the ship. And everyone is still bursting with enthusiasm. The owner is fitting the jetty with a self-invented bird deterrent, the boat builder is practising making brass wind chimes, and the designer is pondering an easily removable tarpaulin.
And as you walk to the car, you can still hear Jens Dannhus shouting from the boat: "Wait a minute, we haven't shown you this yet!"
The article first appeared in YACHT 25-26/2009 and has been updated for this online version.