Rise of the Pend Oreille Phoenix

Terry Anderson launches his final boat after a lifetime of tinkering and building

By Ben Olson
Reader Staff

For most people, dragging a 50-foot long and 20-foot-wide sailboat down an incline into the lake using a bulldozer without brakes might induce some anxiety. Terry Anderson, however, is not like most people.

The local boatbuilder, tinkerer and self-proclaimed “hippie junker” successfully launched his latest — and final — boat into Lake Pend Oreille on July 6, as a crowd of onlookers cheered his accomplishment.

Anderson launched the craft from his home near Sunnyside after nearly four years of work. He built it entirely from scratch, naming it the Phoenix after the mythical bird that cyclically regenerates by rising from the ashes of its predecessor. The choice of name was apropos, since the trimaran was built from materials Anderson repurposed, scrounged, bartered for or handcrafted. Much of the boat was built from materials sourced from remnants of the 20-odd other boats he’s built in the past, and each piece — from the twin masts to the smallest shackle — was placed with intention by the nautical hippie boat builder who prowls the shores of Lake Pend Oreille searching for the perfect balance between art and function.

Anderson has been using scraps to build his dreams since he could hold a screwdriver.

“I’ve been a junker since I was a kid,” he said. “I used to take my wagon when I was 8 or 9 years old on trash day and go through trash cans to make things. I had to sneak it in my yard when my parents weren’t looking.”

Anderson told the Reader he was inspired to make things largely because he struggled as a student.

“Ever since I was a kid, I didn’t do well in school,” he said. “I’m ADD and dyslexic. I have all kinds of learning things. I could make things, though. When I wanted to have something, I made it. I made my own toys, too. When I wanted a go-kart, I’d steal the engine off my buddy’s lawnmower and make it.”

Anderson leaned into his burgeoning abilities in high school, building cars and making money on the stuff he built in metal and auto shop. 

“It was obvious to me that I was not going to be college-bound,” he said. “The last two years of high school I took all shop classes.”

He made paraphernalia and pipes for the head shops that were just opening in the late 1960s. He built motorcycles and scooters, torches, kinetic metal sculptures and anything else that caught his fancy and maybe earned a buck.

“My contraptions didn’t always work, but that’s the way I’ve lived my whole life,” Anderson said. “I just learned as I went, by trial and error. We won’t talk about my errors, though.”

Those early years helped shape Anderson into the builder he is today, largely because he had big dreams — and his passion insisted that the dreams were his, not someone else’s.

“Everything I wanted to make has been made before and somebody made it the first time, but I’d rather have my version of it than a copy of someone else’s version,” he said.

After high school, Anderson began making annual trips to Belize and Mexico to experience the tropics in wintertime — an itinerant lifestyle he’s maintained to this day. There, he dove and explored the underwater world, encountering archeological finds, sought out adventure and surfed every chance he could. During downtimes, Anderson started tinkering and building small boats out of materials he scrounged up on the beaches. But, before launching into any projects, he would build an intricate model of the design out of whatever materials he came across — often coconut husks and palm fronds.

Building models became a habit that followed him all through life, with dozens of them lining every spare inch of his workshop and home. Mostly boats and airplanes, the majority of the models had working rigging and moving parts.

Four years ago, Anderson began scheming his latest boat-building project. The Phoenix was about to begin its heroic rise from the ashes.

Anderson first constructed several models of the boat he saw in his mind’s eye, initially envisioning a much different design than the finished product.

“I was originally going to make something that looked like an old pirate ship,” he said. “That year I made the hulls and it took so long to put the center hull together, by the next year I decided I’m not going to do that. … I thought, ‘I should make a trimaran.’”

A trimaran is a boat with three hulls — a large center hull with two smaller outrigger hulls on either side that are attached to the center.

For the main hull, Anderson used cement forms he’d taken from local dockworker Dana Martin decades ago. [Publisher’s note: Sadly, Martin passed away July 11. See the July 23 edition for his obituary.] He also pilfered some hulls from a catamaran he built in the 1970s and painstakingly built them up about 10 inches higher, adding a bow and a stern. That job took another year of work, usually by himself at his shop as he fiberglassed it together.

After completing the outer hulls, Anderson began checking off different aspects of the construction, piece by piece.

Two circular clothing racks that once displayed men’s shirts and ties were reborn as twin steering helms. He handmade the shafts that go through the cabin, then wrapped cables around to turn the rudder, which will be steered manually. Inside, he built individual cabins and lockers, made cushions and decks. Slowly, the Phoenix began to resemble a sailboat.

“All the rigging is stuff I found on eBay or in swap meets when I’m down south,” he said. “I made my own cleats, too.”

Anderson salvaged a main mast in Florida and cut it in two for transport to Sandpoint. The other mast was found in Santa Barbara and also cut in two for the trek home.

With hair askew, ratty sweatshirt, and pants covered in paint and fiberglass residue, Anderson toiled day after day, slowly completing dozens of small projects that would culminate in the finished sailboat he saw in his mind.

Working out of his shop, which resembles an old-time chandlery, he picked through work benches lined with all manner of nautical equipment. The look was messy, but somehow organized.

“I used to go to auctions and buy boxes of stuff,” he said. “I have a spring collection with probably 1,000 springs. Everything from leaf springs on a car to tiny little springs out of an ink pen. I can make something out of anything. I have millions of nuts and bolts. I don’t throw anything away.”

Anderson completed the construction of the Phoenix this spring. The trimaran’s final dimensions make it one of the largest vessels on the lake at 50-feet long with a 20-foot beam. He hoped for a 10-inch draft, which would ensure he could navigate close to shore in the shallow waters off of his lakeside home.

On launching day July 6, a crowd of local sailors and friends gathered to help Anderson with the tricky maneuver from the building platform to the shore. The task was made exponentially more difficult thanks to his old bulldozer without brakes.

After about an hour of jockeying into position, Anderson finally managed to get the Phoenix to the water’s edge, where, after a short ceremony and some applause from the shore, he gave it a final shove into the water. Only one mishap marred the otherwise flawless launch: A weld broke on the bulldozer bucket and caused the Phoenix to lurch, which damaged the figurehead on the bow. Her figure was mostly destroyed, but her smile endured.

“Oh well, we’ll make another one,” Anderson shrugged.

He bent down and examined the marks on the hull he’d made to see how much water the boat drew. Initially hoping for 10 inches, he was pleased to see it settled around eight inches, with a slight rake to stern.

“Perfect,” he nodded.

Though the sailboat is finished, Anderson’s work continues. He plans to install a series of solar panels on stern racks and eventually an electric motor to push the craft to and from the dock.

But for now, the next plan is to bend on the sails and take the maiden voyage, introducing the Phoenix to her new home on Lake Pend Oreille.

Blending the line between art and function, the Phoenix is a perfect testament to Anderson’s abilities. 

“I’m more of an artist than a builder,” he said. “I build things to look good. Sometimes they don’t work, but they look good.”

Looking back on an artful life, Anderson’s fantastic crafts all hold special places in his heart, all culminating in the construction of the Phoenix. He’s built steam-powered canoes, motorcycles, beautiful catamarans, day sailors and dream projects. He’s poured every bit of engineering prowess and imagination into each craft, leading up to this, his final effort.

“This will be my last big project,” he said. 

A version of this story by the same author first appeared in the summer 2026 edition of Sandpoint Magazine.

Anyone interested in taking a look at the Phoenix in person, Anderson’s wife Devon Chapman is participating in POAC’s Artist Studio Tour from Sept. 4-6. Her studio (and the Phoenix) will be open and available for visitors.