I Bought a 1979 Achilles 24 - What Could Possibly Go Wrong?

I bought a boat. Specifically, a 1979 Achilles 24 - or something very close to it. I say “1979” with the same confidence you might say, “This milk smells fine.” It’s not confirmed, but based on the sail number and a few key design features, it’s a solid guess. Close enough for now.

She’s red, fiberglass, and let’s be honest, rough. But she’s mine.

This blog is where I’ll be documenting the resurrection of this little cruiser, from barnacle-bedraggled beginnings to blue-water dreams (or at least weekend sailing without sinking). Think of this as part restoration log, part therapy, and part warning for anyone else thinking, “How hard could it be?”

The Boat & The Buy

The Achilles 24 has a bit of a cult following among small cruiser fans, and for good reason. Designed by Oliver Lee and built by Butler Mouldings in the UK, it’s a 24-foot, fin-keeled fibreglass sloop that punches well above its weight in terms of sailing ability and rugged charm. According to the Achilles Owners Association, around 600 were built between 1968 and 1985, with various tweaks across the years.

This one was found in a boatyard. Not just any boatyard, but the one at Erith yacht club, where I am a member. Abandoned by a previous owner and left to quietly decay behind more glamorous neighbors, she sat there, slowly fading into the background. One day I asked the club about it. A short while later, after a successful bid and a nod from the General Committee, she was mine.

She came with a name - Dream - though at the moment, she looks more like a nightmare with potential. And spiders.

First Impressions: Spiders, Stains, and Some Solid Bones

At first glance, the boat looks tired. Not terminal - just very, very weary. Like a student during finals week. The good news: the hull seems structurally sound. The bad news: nearly everything else needs love.

The windows leak. The interior smells like it’s been fermenting something unholy. The running rigging is either brittle, missing, or tangled in a way that feels personal. And did I mention the spiders? It’s like a low-budget horror movie in there.

There’s also slight osmosis on the hull, and the antifouling was mysteriously half-finished, as if someone gave up halfway through or was abducted mid-brush stroke. So, my first job was obvious: finish the antifouling. I’ve already ordered supplies from Pirates Cave chandlery. Let’s see if I can apply paint without becoming permanently red myself.

Initial Research: A Bit of Boat Forensics

Like any good boat detective, I began by crawling through the Achilles Owners Association website. Using the sail number and a handy production chart, I worked out that this boat is likely from 1979. That, along with the step down into the saloon (a feature of later models), helped narrow it down.

There’s no builder’s plate or paperwork left, but the clues line up. At this point, the age doesn’t matter as much as understanding what’s original, what’s been bodged together, and what’s missing entirely.

The Goal: Float Now, Finesse Later

This isn’t going to be one of those "strip it to the hull and rebuild from scratch in a heated workshop" kind of projects. I don’t have the time, budget, or workshop. My plan is simple: get her sailing safely, then refine and improve as I go.

The goal is a slow, progressive refit. I want to get out on the water, figure out how she handles, and let that inform the longer-term upgrades. It’s about sailing first, aesthetics later. If she floats, points vaguely into the wind, and doesn’t try to kill me, that’s a win.

Next Steps: The (Very Real) To-Do List

Here’s what’s on the fix-it list so far:

Before She Sails:

• Finish the antifouling
• Replace all running rigging
• Acquire a reliable outboard motor
• Reseal the windows (rain should stay outside, ideally)

This Winter’s Projects:

• Strip antifoul and properly address osmosis
• Repair interior water damage and tidy up the saloon
• Inspect & restore water, gas, and fuel storage systems
• Fit a furler on the jib (because foredeck acrobatics in a breeze? No thanks)

Closing Thoughts: A Dream, In Progress

Was buying this boat impulsive? Maybe.

Will the restoration test my patience, budget, and ability to Google "how to fix [thing I just broke]"? Almost certainly.

But standing beside her, even covered in dust and decay, I feel nothing but excitement. Dream might not float yet - but she floats in my imagination.

Let’s see where this goes.

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