Written by Hannah Godel

Jerry Lee Jones doesn’t need a map to find his favorite stretch of the Tennessee River; he follows the sun. With fiancé Cathy St. Georges at his side, the engine’s hum fades into the background, replaced by the rhythmic rush of the water against the hull. For a few hours, the rest of the world is just a dock they’ve left behind.
After decades navigating the corporate landscape at IBM, Jones has traded the glow of a computer screen for the grain of polished wood. Having spent years quietly crafting hulls in his garage, the retiree now has the one thing his career couldn’t provide: the freedom to follow the river whenever the water calls his name.
Woodworking has been a part of Jones’ life for as long as he can remember. At ten years old, he and his father built a kayak together, a project that sparked a lifelong obsession. That project did more than just teach him how to join two pieces of wood; it instilled a standard of beauty that the modern world rarely meets.

That lifelong dedication eventually led to an unexpected moment. “I met a person that saw my boat and couldn’t wait to send me a picture of a painting he had on the wall,” Jones recalls. “Somebody saw it docked, tied up, and they painted it. Now it’s hanging on the wall of his house.”
For Jones, that’s the highest compliment, because his work is driven by a dissatisfaction with the modern market. “I just love working with wood. There’s nothing prettier,” he says. “You just can’t buy a boat at the store that looks like this.” For him, the appeal of a vintage aesthetic isn’t just about nostalgia, it’s about the fact that those old wooden designs are often more practical and “work better than new boats, too.”
Over the years, his garage has been a revolving door of maritime engineering. To date, he has hand-built a staggering fleet: eight paddleboards, three lapstrake dinghies, a catamaran, a trimaran, and two pangas. But nothing tops his collection quite like the massive, 31-foot Northern Pacific Dreamboat.
While his kayaks and paddleboards begin as blueprints from Chesapeake Lightcraft, a “wonderful little company,” as he calls it, they rarely end that way. Jones uses the official plans to ensure the waterlines are technically sound, but from there, the engineer in him steps aside for the artist.
Take his panga, for example. While the hull followed the drawings exactly, the rest was pure Jones. “The center console, I used my own design,” he says. “I made it much larger so that I could put a door on the front and a toilet inside. I also added a rope rub rail ‘cause I like the way that looks.”
He didn’t stop at structural changes; he gave the vessel a distinct personality. “I wanted it to have an authentic Caribbean look, so I painted it with light blues and yellows and had a friend make fish stencils using Haitian art for me to paint on the sides.”

The undisputed crown jewel of his collection is a massive, 31-foot Northern Pacific Dreamboat. Inspired by the classic cruisers of the 1930s, this project required a level of planning that went beyond his garage modifications.
Jones sought out Tad Roberts, a renowned naval architect in Canada, whose designs Jones admired. Since Roberts didn’t have a plan in the specific size Jones envisioned, the architect custom-designed the Dreamboat specifically for him.
While the boats are the focus of his labor, the joy of the journey is shared. Beside him on every excursion is his fiancé, Cathy St. Georges. Though she serves as his dedicated “first mate” today, winning her over was perhaps his most successful “build.”
The two were friends for three years before the relationship shifted. While Jones was patient, he was also certain. “She finally realized that I was what she wanted,” Jones says. “I pretty much knew pretty quickly.”
Today, that partnership is the foundation of his life on the river. For Jones, the years of sawdust and varnish are validated every time he leaves the dock. Whether it’s the technical perfection of a custom hull or the whimsical touch of a rope rail, the true reward is in the shared experience.
“People that haven’t been on many boats, I just love seeing their faces the first time they experience my boat on the water.”
Meet the Storyteller

Hannah Godel
Hannah Godel is a senior double majoring in communication and studio arts at the University of Tennessee at Chattanooga. Originally from Los Angeles, California, she now works as a staff photographer for The University Echo, using photography to explore stories that challenge and broaden her perspective. In addition to her work with the Echo, Godel has written a blog for the Chattanooga Tourism Co., expanding her interest in storytelling beyond photography. She is passionate about documenting culture, people and places, and hopes to travel the world after graduation covering cultural stories through visual media. Outside of photography, she is often found with a book in her hand and one of her pets nearby. To connect with Godel, contact her at zyd457@mocs.utc.edu









