• In 2010, Christopher Willson bought a deteriorating historic cruise ship off of Craigslist.
  • He poured his heart and what he estimated to be about $2 million into renovating the boat.
  • Last year, he made the tough decision to walk away from the project. Now the ship is sinking.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Christopher Willson, a 52-year-old retired engineer who spent more than 15 years renovating a cruise ship he named Aurora. The following has been edited for length and clarity.

In 2008, I was living in Santa Cruz, California, and working on several different projects. One of these involved developing some of the first virtual tour software.

Back then, a virtual tour was taking two 183-degree fisheye images and stitching them together in a Java platform. That way, you could navigate the image, 360 by 360.

At the time, I was an avid surfer of Craigslist because you could find deals on anything. In Silicon Valley, many people sold off computer gear, tech gadgets, and all sorts of electronic toys.

I kept noticing the ship pop up on Craigslist. At first, I ignored it, but eventually, my curiosity got the better of me, and I thought it could be a great opportunity for a virtual tour.

I was entranced by a ship for sale on Craiglist

The boat was docked on an island near a small Californian city named Rio Vista.

The first time I went aboard, I posed as a potential buyer. The boat felt creepy. It was a rusty hulk, and for many years, no power had been running through the electrical system, leaving the boat without lights.

Even so, it had an amazing layout and beautiful staircases. It looked more like a giant yacht than a cruise ship.

I went home thinking, "What has the ship accomplished?" I did not know the ship's name, so there was no way to reference it.

A vintage picture of the Aurora cruise ship. Foto: Courtesy of Christopher Willson

I did a massive amount of image searching and was surprised. The ship was named Wappen von Hamburg, the first ship Germany was permitted to build after World War II.

It was one of history's most pioneering cruise ships and no expense was spared in its creation — down to every last detail.

The boat had four lounges and an area where luxury cabins once existed, though all had been removed. There was a main lounge and entry, 85 cabins, and several random rooms, including a dining area accommodating about 250 people.

I couldn't figure out how such a beautiful ship with historical significance made it to the California Delta.

It was difficult to find a home for the ship

My first thought wasn't to purchase the boat — which I eventually renamed Aurora — but to assist the owner in finding a solution.

It was illegally moored on state land, and there was a deadline for its removal that was already six months overdue.

Back then, I didn't own the ship yet, but I was helping to find a solution and fix it. My goal was to find a safe home for the boat, which I did.

In late 2008, I got a one-year lease for the ship at a former army base in Rio Vista. However, we had to figure out what to do when the lease expired.

I eventually secured a long-term lease on Pier 38 in San Francisco in 2010.

By the time Willson encountered the cruise ship, the Aurora was deteriorating. Foto: Courtesy of Christopher Willson

I purchased the boat later in 2010. (Editor's note: Willson declined to share how much he paid for the boat. In 2022, though, Willson told BI the boat was initially listed on Craigslist for $1.2 million, but that he successfully negotiated with the seller to reduce the price by half. BI has not independently verified the purchase price of the ship.)

We worked on it for months with the help of dedicated volunteers. I even moved onto the ship that year.

However, months into our long-term stay, and after investing around $80,000 of my own money to build the boat's infrastructure and transport it to the pier, we found out that the pier's leaseholder had lost the pier.

After he lost the pier, the Port of San Francisco wanted us out. For a while, I tried to stay and communicate with them, explaining how challenging it was to find a new location for the ship. However, a lawsuit was eventually filed to force us out.

By then, the volunteers working on the boat had completely stopped coming.

A side view of the Aurora cruise ship. Foto: Courtesy of Christopher Willson

In 2011, we found a place to house Aurora at a Stockton, California, marina.

We had big ideas for Aurora. We thought it was in a safe place and wanted to get it into better condition. But ultimately, the marina owner lost the marina.

It felt like we were jumping from one frying pan into another.

I ended up feeling trapped by the boat

After the owner left the marina, there were a lot of situations that would temporarily stop progress on the Aurora.

A dredging issue in the channel where the Aurora sits also made it impossible to relocate the ship. Being stuck in that situation made me question whether I was wasting my life trying to manage a mess I couldn't control.

For years, I felt a little bit trapped. So, in October 2023, I decided to sell the boat and move out.

It took me about five years to reach that decision, compounded by other issues, including a power company shutting off the marina's electricity, leading to the boats on the marina slowly experiencing issues. One vessel sank next to us, followed by another shortly after.

Inside of the Aurora cruise ship. Foto: Courtesy of Christopher Willson

I found someone who could take over the quest — a smart and knowledgeable mechanic who had volunteered during renovations. I figured he could do it, and I wouldn't mind helping him organize fundraisers, find volunteers, and physically help with projects.

Even though I left behind hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of materials, furnishings, and artwork, I sold the ship to him at almost a giveaway price. It was like $20 — more of a symbolic sale. I truly wanted him to succeed.

By May 2024, Aurora had also begun to sink — about four to five feet. The new owner was absent during this time, but when he returned, he discovered a hole near the waterline.

I'm sad the boat has been destroyed, but I'm moving on to new projects

Today, Aurora is still at the marina, but sadly, contractors have razed the boat.

According to the news, contractors took everything on Aurora, tossed it into trash bins, and called it debris.

It's sad to see. If we could have moved to another location with a dry dock, it would have been a permanent fixture in a nearby community.

A hallway on the boat before Willson bought it looked run-down, but his hard work made it livable again. That was before the ship started to sink. Foto: Courtesy of Christopher Willson

We did so much with Aurora.

The main area and seven cabins were restored, and the main entryway was well on its way to completion. The lower entryway was fully finished and beautifully detailed. We also received donated furniture from the Island Princess, the ship featured in "The Love Boat."

I spent shy of $2 million of my own money fixing up the boat. Though we never asked for donations, many people contributed small amounts here and there — I kept a record of the donations from the very beginning, which totaled around $4,500.

The rest of the money that went into the boat came from revenue generated by selling T-shirts, creating a YouTube channel for Aurora, and money I made doing various tech projects.

Before I got involved with Aurora, I spent 12 and a half years as an electromechanical engineer in disaster recovery. Over the years, I earned my income through the cryptocurrency markets and continued to work in tech doing contract work. I also took part in corporate auctions for high-tech companies, buying items and reselling them online.

A renovated room on the Aurora. Foto: Courtesy of Christopher Willson

The whole project morphed into something really cool for a long time. The knowledge I gained from that ship is quite impressive. I would have stayed out there and been part of that boat forever.

I'm pretty sad about the whole situation, but I believe things happen for a reason. Although I don't regret a single minute of my time on it, I knew I needed to leave before I started to feel regret.

It was time to move on and start another project.

This year, I was offered a 300-foot sailboat, but I think I'll stay on land for a while.

I'm now looking for something like a theater or perhaps an old church to be my next project — something historically significant with some character.

Read the original article on Business Insider