Do you like apples?

(Yesterday)
Deb and I paced the piers most of the day as word from the transport company was a 1600 arrival. Finally the appointed hour arrived, Schmitty provided transport across the lake in his jetboat; to help with the lift, make sure we got underway, and provide a tender boat if needed. (Not only is Schmitty a good friend, he is a Guru of All Things Sailboat.)

Standing around waiting just minutes before the truck appeared at the gate, we watched a nearly new Seaward 36 bang the edge of a pier and ricochet off the bow of anther boat as its new owner tried to figure out how to make it go, turn, back and stop. Not a good omen as this would be my first time to helm The Tartan, and only the second time at the helm of a boat longer than 40 feet. A little voice in my head spoke up, "What ever you do, be considerably less entertaining than that guy!"

The first time 6500 pound Nomad was up in a lift and heading for the water was a bit exciting for a newbe. Seeing 23,000 pounds of Tartan 42 being trammeled out over "The Pit"? Yep, that was pretty exciting as well. Actually, it was hard to keep from jumping up and down shouting "Look at the Pretty Boat!" The only glitch in the whole process of truck-on lift-water-off lift-across lake-home pier was the lift running out of gas with Deb, myself and The Tartan still about two feet from floating. Getting to the fuel filler, which was now some 10 feet in the air over the rip-rap, took close to an hour. Motivation restored and The Tartan settled the last couple of inches, the straps went slack...are we floating? Mmmm, not quite. The Corps is being stingy with the water level this spring and the keel was resting slightly below the bottom of the pit. Jetboat to the rescue.

Floating free at last Schmitty pulled our stern through a 270 to get the bow pointed toward home and cut us loose. Deb, The Tartan and I were on our own for the very first time. I can't tell you how she sails as the mast is a week or more from being ready to step. But Oh Boy does she motor sweeeeeeet! With the RPM at some comfortable rumble we surged across the lake at more than 8 kts. Eight knots. The only way little Nomad would go that fast on her own would be to drop her about 14 feet out of the travel lift.

Just as the sun set we nosed VERY CAREFULLY up to the pier. Waiting hands caught the lines, warped us in against the fenders, and we were home.

(Today)
Flogging the jet to places East. There is a Tartan 42 floating in Lake Carlyle...wow...how about them apples?