Restoring Tally Ho: Rebuilding a 107-Year-Old Albert Strange Yacht

I’ve done something a little foolish and wonderfully absorbing: I bought a 47-foot yacht named Tally Ho. She cost me about $1.30, is a 107-year-old Albert Strange design and a gaff-rigged cutter, and she needs a complete rebuild.

I left a secure position on a beautiful superyacht to take on life amid sawdust and dust motes, living and working with Tally Ho in remote but spectacular Sequim, Washington. On a personal level this move is about independence and challenge — choosing to risk everything for a stubbornly beautiful project. I’m driven by the desire to create something worth remembering and to gather stories worth sharing with good people.

On another level, this rebuild is an effort to save a piece of yacht-building history. Albert Strange (1855–1917) earned respect for his elegant canoe-stern yawls and for advancing yacht design through his writings and exhibitions. Tally Ho is one of his largest surviving designs and, in my view, deserves careful restoration so her craftsmanship and story are not lost.

Tally Ho has an impressive history: she won the third Fastnet race in 1927, besting established competitors such as Jolie Brise and Ilex. Later she proved herself a seakindly cruiser, capable of long ocean passages, but she eventually vanished from the spotlight and was later found in a small Oregon port where she had been used for salmon fishing and then abandoned. Attempts to save her over the years were hampered by her obscure location and advanced state of decay.

When I first inspected her, the amount of work was daunting. Still, several encouraging signs stood out: many of the planks were in reasonably good condition and the massive keel timber was solid teak. Those discoveries convinced me that a serious restoration was possible, even if it would be a major undertaking.

Sequim was the nearest community with a traditional sailing and boatbuilding culture, and I was fortunate to be offered land and a workshop large enough to house volunteers and myself. The Albert Strange Association, which sold me the yacht, contributed toward the cost of moving her to this location, which helped make the project viable at the outset.

When people asked how I felt about the project, I answered “excited and terrified.” Reflecting on that, I realized the same feeling accompanied every risky but rewarding choice I’ve made. Those choices — however risky at the time — became the most meaningful milestones of my life.

I’ve had similar adventures before. In 2012 I spent my modest life savings on a 1947 Nordic Folkboat named Lorema (after my grandmother), rebuilt her on a shoestring over ten months and then sailed her across the Atlantic without an engine or GPS. That voyage was difficult at times, but it was also profoundly rewarding and taught me a great deal about the value of risk, self-reliance and experience.

The Lorema passage led to other opportunities: I later skippered the 1927 ketch Sincerity on a long voyage from Antigua to Italy via summer charters in Greenland, and I worked as bosun aboard the 213-foot, three-masted gaff schooner Adix, sailing between Cuba and Maine. Those experiences reinforced how gratifying it is to pursue projects you shape yourself, rather than simply working in someone else’s world.

My time in the superyacht industry exposed me to great wealth and meticulous standards, but nothing compares with the freedom of restoring an historic boat on your own terms. That sense of purpose is the heart of the Tally Ho project.

Although I have spent several years working as a boatbuilder, I’ve never managed a restoration on this scale. The keel timber and ballast keel may be salvageable, but major sections of the centerline will probably need replacing. Many frames have deteriorated because oak futtocks were side-fastened with steel, which has allowed rot to set in. The hull planking is fastened with copper rivets, so a good number of teak planks can be saved, but most of the fastenings will need replacement as new frames go in. The deck planks and much of the deck structure will require renewal, although some hatches and coamings might be salvageable. There are no spars, rig, interior, engine or systems on board at present, so those installations will come later in the project.

I’m funding the start of the rebuild with personal savings and will likely work on the boat in stages unless additional funding or sustained volunteer support appears. I’m committed to using quality materials and traditional methods wherever practical. Tally Ho was originally built to a high standard by Stow & Son in Shoreham, U.K., and I intend to restore her to that level — even if it requires extra time to use bronze fastenings and other period-appropriate materials.

I will aim to stay true to traditional boatbuilding techniques, though I’m not planning to install a paraffin engine. Volunteers will be welcome, working for accommodation, experience and skill development rather than pay. The yacht has already been trucked roughly 600 miles to Sequim and I spent a week erecting a protective shed over her hull. I’m also creating short documentary films to record the restoration work; the first two films are available on my own website.

When Tally Ho sails again, I hope she will serve as a living classroom for traditional navigation and seamanship — whether through charters, charitable initiatives or trips with family and friends. I’m particularly drawn to cruising in higher latitudes, so I plan to install a wood stove in keeping with her original plans. I also hope she will take part in classic yacht regattas and might even compete in the Fastnet centenary in 2027, marking the race she once won.

Many will see the restoration as optimistic, and rightly so: it will demand time, money, commitment and help. The work itself will be an adventure with highs and lows, but I am grateful for the chance to revive such a historic vessel. Above all, I hope the project becomes a memorable story worth telling.

This article originally appeared in the November 2017 issue.