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Sanderson's townhouse is at the quiet southern end of the island. He escorts a visitor around like they are on a passage and will be spending the next month aboard. Seeing the trinkets he has brought from his worldwide travels is reminiscent of a ship captain's house—more than homes, they are repositories for exotic collectibles and rich memories. There are rugs from all over the world, including a Persian rug that purportedly was once housed in Saddam Hussein's Bagdad palace. The vintage navigational charts on many of his walls were handed down to him from his seafaring grandfather. On a shelf in the high-ceilinged living room is a teeming collection of ceramic sea turtles from dozens of international seaports.

The yacht Eclipse, built for Russian oligarch Roman Abramovich

I wonder aloud to Sanderson if buying a big yacht is all that different from upgrading to a really nice carbon fiber bike. The same emotions are involved: there's no need, per se, but the desire—once you touch and ride such a machine—is almost impossible to ignore. Bill says it's a pretty decent analogy up until the point where it's, you know, a bike. "I can buy a bike," he says. The point is clear: Buying a mega yacht, or for that matter, building one, is in a different league. Last December, he was in northern Denmark enduring sea trials with "friggin ice on the deck." On a different sea trial, this time with Melaina, they cruised between the French and Italian rivieras. "It was good, we had pasta, nice cheeses...but the boat wasn't quite right. I said, 'What are we doing? Why don't we just build a new one?'" The client agreed.

I checked in with Sanderson after his meeting with the Boston client. He and the yacht's interior designer had flown up to New York in the late fall to meet with the buyer and the buyer's wife. The yacht seemed a lock—many manhours had gone into the specs and details. In the end, however, the 62-meter yacht wasn't right. "It's not an easy business," said Sanderson, not explaining whether his client had lost his ardor for the boat or whether the client's spouse had.

Sanderson didn't seem surprised things hadn't worked out—and he certainly wasn't daunted. He had spent the last few months accumulating a good chunk of his 200,000 hours of annual flight time, visiting boat yards and various vendors and traveling to boat shows. The good thing, at least in mega yachts, is that one man's discarded dream is another's opportunity. A Turk has come calling on the 62-meter in Viareggio, he added. The Boston client, meanwhile, was thinking of building a 151-footer in Anacortes in Washington. As Sanderson says--and you'd have to take him at his word on this—the yachting world isn't easy, but it isn't dull either.

"You really have to get into the mind of a client," says Sanderson. In a real sense he is still the 20-something UNH graduate exploring strange uncharted territory. The difference is he doesn't have to get wet or use a sextant. "What I do can be frustrating sometimes," he says, "but I'd never want to anything different." ~

Todd Balf '83, a former senior editor for Outside magazine, writes for national publications and is the author of The Last River: The Tragic Race for Shangri-la, The Darkest Jungle, The True Story of the Darien Expedition and America's Ill-Fated Race to Connect the Seas, and Major, A Black Athlete, a White Era, and the Fight to Be the World's Fastest Human Being.

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