Nomad's maiden voyage (Tim's take)

Solo maiden voyage!

As you have seen Deb and I took Nomad out for the first time today. Not only was it our first time in a boat that we own, it was our first time without someone more knowledgeable along to keep us out of trouble. A leap into the deep end (so to speak). Though we took the sailing courses this felt like the first day of class to me. So feel free to laugh at my lessons learned, I did. After all, though sailing can be deadly serious business, this is mostly about learning a new thing and having fun. Beside, today was as close to a controlled environment as it is possible to get.

We got off to a less than stellar inauguration with me trying to back out of our dock. Prop walk on our boat is to port, where the dock is. So the back of the boat wanted to hit the dock. The wind was out of the southwest, on our starboard side. So the front of the boat wanted to hit the dock as well. Somehow I managed to miss the dock but ended up with the boat pointing the wrong way, up the dead end to the boat ramp. “No problem,” I figured, “I’ll just pull into this convenient empty slip, back out again, and get going in the right direction.” That however, started going bad as well. So LESSON #1: When your wife says “put the wheel all the way THIS way,” put the wheel all the way this way. It will, in all probability, get you facing in the right direction and headed out of the marina rather than in.

After getting turned around and going around two 90 degree turns it occurred to me that I should let off on the steering lock. LESSON #2: The boat steers a lot easier if the helm lock is free.

We worked our way slowly out to the mouth of the river and on toward the lake, passing several inbound boats along the way. In the “No Wake” zone our passing speeds were pretty slow, but after my clumsy start I wasn’t at all sure I knew how to drive little Nomad yet. It seemed like pretty heavy traffic to me. Once actually in the lake with a light breeze stirring it seemed like a good time to put up a sail. The jib seemed a reasonable choice to start with and I asked Deb to take the helm so I could go forward and hoist a sail. (This would be the first such hoisting I have ever attended.) The jib was hanked onto the head stay but I had not yet latched the halyard or down haul to the head of the sail, which meant going out to the very end of the bow sprit. LESSON #3: Get the sails ready to hoist before sailing out into the lake.

The jib went part way up then jammed on the down haul line, which had developed a small tangle just where it goes through a lock. I moved aft, cleared the tangle and moved back to the mast to continue hauling up the sail. LESSON #4: Get all those ropes under control.

With the jib flying, a nice breeze blowing and Deb at the helm, Nomad, for the first time in a couple of years, started moving under sail. I have to say I think our little boat was pretty pleased and rewarded our amateur efforts by leaving a bit of a wake behind us as we moved along. Too, too cool. After a while we got pretty comfortable and decided to hoist the main. Nomad has a more traditional sail plan so to do things like hoisting sails one must move out of the cockpit, onto the cabin roof and out to the mast. It can’t be more then 10 or 12 feet, but it feels a lot longer when the boat is rolling and pitching (even just the little bit it was today) under your feet. After a bit the main was flying along with the jib, but: SEE LESSON #4 again.

We started tacking back and forth across the lake, getting more and more comfortable doing the things a sailor has to do to keep a boat moving. Then, in the middle of a jibe the jib sheets kind of locked up, killing our turn and our speed. As it turns out the port jib sheet had tangled up on the still open forward hatch. LESSON #5: Close the freaking hatch before ropes start flapping all over the place.

After that things settled down to a pretty nice sail. Deb and I had lots of conversations about who had the right of way as we encountered different boats going in different directions. I felt pretty good that none of the sailboats seemed to be going that much faster then we were and, for the most part, when we were on a similar tack we were holding similar headings. Like they say, copying one person during a test is cheating, copying everyone is resource management. Keeping an eye on what the other boats on the lake are doing is a good way to learn. We played with the sails, seeing what would happen if we eased a sheet or trimmed a sail up a little tighter. It seems our little boat will actually point pretty far up into the wind. She seems pretty light on the helm and rode the small waves and occasional bigger boat wakes well. We had some tunes playing on the CD, ate peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, I drank a couple of cold ones, and generally just had a blast ghosting across the water. Toward mid-afternoon the wind died. Instead of firing up the engine we set the sails as best we could and just kind of drifted back toward the marina. It took a while but we weren’t in much of a hurry and the marina grew slowly larger. Then it came time to take the sails down. Deb wanted to do that so I stayed at the helm. She asked me a bunch of questions but I have never UN-hoisted sails either, so I’m not sure my suggestions were actually of much help. She got the sails down with little drama, lashed the main to the boom and we worked our way back to the dock with the little engine knocking away at dead slow. I made a better job of docking than I did undocking, and so finished our first lake adventure.

I spend the next week flying the jet back and forth across a big chunk of the country, from Denver to Ft. Lauderdale at something like 400 knots. But I suspect my mind will be wandering a bit, replaying the first hours Deb and I spent on our boat, just the two of us, probably never making more than 4 knots and never getting more than a couple of miles (if that) from the dock. LESSON #6: Actually sailing a boat is just too, too cool.

Nomad's Maiden Voyage (Deb's Take)

So we managed to get the boat out of the dock and into the lake with no damage. We motored clear of the buoys and got the jib up without either of us falling in the water. The winds were about 12knots and we sailed along with just the jib up for quite a while just getting used to the way Nomad handles.

  

 After a while we got the courage to put the mainsail up. You have to understand that in both the classes we took, the boat we used had roller furling sails. If you wanted to put the sails up you just rolled them out. Nomad's sails are hanked on with clips which is much more involved and a little more prone to dumping a crew member into the drink if done wrong or by inexperienced (aka us) sailors.

  

   

We tacked back and forth and managed to make it most of the way across the lake and a good bit toward the dam before we figured we probably better head back. The winds at Carlyle Lake have this nasty habit of taking a siesta from around 11:30 to 1:30 or 2:00, so coming back was a slow process. There was enough wind though to make a very slight wake, so we evntually made it close enough to drop the sails and turn on the motor right before the buoys for the marina. We got back into our slip with a little more grace than we left, and added another 6 hours to our sailing logbooks. We had a great weekend. Saturday was my birthday and Sunday was Father's Day. Time spent with family, new friends, and a fabulous boat. What more can you ask?

The Captain with his very first cup of coffe on Nomad.

 

Keeping afloat

I wonder if every new boat owner has the same uneasy thought of going to the dock to find only the top of a mast sticking out of the water? I had almost talked myself into riding out to the marina today just to check and even took a set of boat keys with me to work. But airplane problems intervened and I spent the day first, trying to figure out why both main tires on the Citation were trashed and second, how I could get them replaced in time to cover the trips coming up. As it turned out yesterday’s commuter like schedule, with a couple of very short trips and very fast turns in the Gulf coast heat simply overwhelmed tires that were near the end of their service life anyway. Never getting a chance to cool and subjected to multiple long taxi routes in both Gulfport and New Orleans the tires simply overheated, shed layers of too soft rubber and scorched their way through to the cords. Thirty plus years I have been around airplanes and this is the first time I’ve managed to fry a set of tires simply by working them too hard; learn something new every day.

Most of tomorrow will be spent having technicians drive in from Alton to jack the airplane and replace the tires. So we can’t plan on making it to the boat until Saturday morning. I guess if it hasn’t sunk by now it will still be floating a couple of mornings from now. I know I turned off the batteries and closed the thru-hulls, but I think I’m going to need to write an airplane-like checklist I can have on the boat. Something I can look over both before pulling out of the dock and before leaving the boat behind. After more than 3 decades pilot habits will not be broken.

While at the office this morning, and for the second time in as many weeks, I got word that a friend had passed. Ken was another friend from the airport with whom I had flown on many occasions. He had a stroke last night and died this morning. There are probably not two middle-aged white guys anywhere who are more opposite then Ken and I. He was ex-military (Vietnam Vet), pro-gun, conservative, religious, and to my way of thinking both a bit sexist and a little intolerant. But I considered him a friend. He was also a superb craftsman and artist. He had a Piper Cub dressed up in its military uniform as a L4 that we flew many times. The airplane was as perfect as any I have seen and Ken was as good a Cub pilot as there can be found anywhere. One of the rare times when I actually used my CFI was giving Ken his biennial flight reviews in his beloved Cub. It was both a huge amount of fun and a complete waste of time. He could, on demand and in nearly any wind, land that thing on any spot and on either wheel, out of a full wall-banger of a slip or at the end of most gentle of glides, three-point or wheel, power off or power on. I doubt that airplane will ever be flown that well again. He was also in the process of building a Fokker Tri-Plane replica. The fuselage and wing work are pure art. Ken will never finish that project, a sad and pointed reminder that we do not set the margins of our lives, neither the start nor the end. But we do set the limits.

By buying Nomad Deb and I decided not to wait but to move the limits of our lives, just a little, while we had the chance. To learn a new thing or two, see a new place, look at the world from sea level rather then the flight levels. This evening, knowing full well that we can plan for tomorrows but can’t make promises for them, I am pretty content with having taken the chance to buy the boat. The trick now is to enjoy every moment, every wave, every time we leave the dock and every time we return, to keep it afloat as long as I can.

Wetter is better

It turns out that putting a boat in the water can make for a bit of a long day. I got to the marina around 9 to open up the boat, empty out the lockers, (so I had an unobstructed view in case water should be where water shouldn’t be) and generally check things over one more time. I also had to undo the head stay to get it out of the way. Around 11 (after a few minutes on the charger) the marina’s big tractor was started and the lift gantry was backed into place. Straps were slung under the boat and little Nomad was hoisted off of its cradle with ease. That gave me access to the 4 spots on the hull that still needed painted. I have to say I was a bit uneasy working beneath 6000 pounds of boat hanging on a couple of straps and cables. By noon all the paint and touchup work was done so I headed into town to get some lunch. The plan was to launch the boat around 3, giving the paint a chance to dry as well as giving Gary (the boat broker and Commodore of the yacht club) a chance to round up some help and get to the marina to show me what to do. I have never even seen a sailboat launched before and was more than a little curious about the whole process.

After inspecting, buying, cleaning, painting and hoisting, the actual launch was a bit anticlimactic, which is not a bad thing. Craig fired up the tractor again, (after more time on the charger) and just hauled the boat over to the launch ramp. Gary and I rode on the boat as it was backed down the ramp. There was no splash, just the sudden realization that we were floating, not hanging. We eased the boat out of the web of steel that had carried her to the water, Craig drove away and our boat was back in its natural habitat. Gary hit the starter and the 10 HP diesel fired up instantly, settling into a smooth idle. I was a bit behind the process though, and realized that the thru-hull valve for the water inlet was still closed. It only takes a moment to open it, but I banged my knee pretty good in my haste to get down into the starboard locker to reach it. Getting in a hurry on a boat seems to be about as bad an idea as getting in a hurry with an airplane. Bad things happen. It’s much better to plan ahead a little and then move with some deliberation.

Gary gave me the helm and for the first time in my life I was driving a boat through a marina full of other boats. It seemed a really good time to go slow and I was reminded of lesson #2; a slow moving 27 foot sailboat handles as much like a loaf of bread as a slow moving 31 foot boat. Idle RPM seemed perfect for my (lack of) boat handling skills and I managed to guide Nomad into her berth almost as if I had some real clue about what I was doing. It was all remarkably fun. (And made much easier by the total lack of wind.)

Later I started putting stuff on the boat, stuff like sails and the Bimini. I got the head stay back on and tightened, (a first) hanked on the jib (another first) and stuffed it in its bag. Wrestling with the jib was a bit of a handful just sitting at the dock. Out on the water with the wind blowing and the boat bouncing? The Bimini was a puzzle as well, and I ended up putting it together three times before I decided it was correct. Then I sat and drank a Coke staring at the Bimini and decided I had it on backwards. I turned it around and this time I really do think its right.

There is still a lot to do. The main sail has to go on along with its cover. I haven’t quite figured out all of the electrical system yet and still need to run the power cable on the dock. The water tank needs filled. All stuff we will attempt to finish this weekend. Still, Deb came to the marina after work and for a little while we sat on foredeck, leaned against the cabin and were just kind of astonished / delighted where we were and what we were doing. By then it was well after 6 pm and I was starting to feel the heat, the hours and the miles. But we have a boat and it is in the water. And that is just way cool.

Splash!

Well Tim will have to tell you all about putting the boat in the water today because, unfortunately, I had to work. But the picture and video posting are my job, so here's a few of his busy day:

In the sling and ready to move to the water. 

After you lift it off the jacks you have to paint the piece of the bottom that the jacks were resting on.

The new captain:

  

Nomad is finally off the hard and in the water where she belongs! 

Let the games begin

Another weekend is nearly done and little Nomad is within a couple of days of getting wet again. At least, that is the plan at the moment. Deb and I spent the last two days working on the boat, staying over Saturday night so we could get started on the bottom paint first thing this morning. The V berth was surprisingly big and comfortable, but even with the wind blowing around 20 knots at times and all the vents open, it was pretty warm. And I guess boats like to move. Even on the hard I could feel some subtle swaying as the wind played with the boat.

We read and heard all kinds of horror stories about how difficult it is to paint the bottom of a boat. The paint is some special kind of stuff that costs a fortune and has copper powder in it to keep uglies from growing on the bottom and slowing the boat down. (A definite no-no in a boat that can only do 6 knots or so anyway.) As it turns out painting the bottom is not that big a deal, its just paint after all. We had a harder time painting the living room. Bottom paint looks pretty cool though, and with the rest of the hull cleaned and waxed our little boat seems eager to get off her stand and back into the lake.

Another good thing about staying on the boat last night and getting up early to paint her was that we had the work done in time to go sailing with a new friend this afternoon. Schmitty is the vice commodore of the club, saw us working on Nomad, came over, introduced himself and invited us out on the lake with him and his friends. Schmitty owns a Catalina 31, which is a really nice boat. (Not as nice as Nomad, but bigger. Schmidty would probably disagree.) The wind was blowing with gusts to 28 knots, stirring up white caps on the lake and apparently keeping a lot of people at the dock. (I know it was gusting to 28 knots because I checked the pilot weather for the nearby airport. I haven’t learned yet where sailors go to get their weather.) Those who stayed at the dock missed a really fun day. Flying just a piece of a headsail we rounded the exit from the dock area and plowed our way out into the lake. Once in a while we smacked a wave hard enough to throw spray all the way back to the cockpit. Tacking back and forth trying to make our way south I realized something I knew about sailboats, but never experienced. Sailors always talk about “beating to weather” when they go upwind. Now I understand. A sailboat can’t sail straight into the wind; about 40 degrees off the wind is the best they can do. But the waves run more or less directly downwind, putting the boat at an awkward angle to the prevailing sea. (Or lake in this case.) The boat corkscrews itself across the waves making for a really weird kind of ride with a lot of yawing motion. I can certainly see where beating to weather for several days nonstop while trying to make a long passage could wear a person out.

Schmitty let Deb and I take the helm for most of the day. I expect I tripled my sailing experience in this one afternoon’s sail. Which is kind of the purpose behind buying the boat in the first place. The games have definitely begun.

Between weekends

Deb and I spent last Sunday working on Nomad. Deb got her sparkling on the inside while I poked around the engine and systems to make sure things were tight and to get some idea of what I am dealing with. Truth to tell the little boat looks to be a pretty simple piece of equipment. The 10 HP Yanmer is about as basic an engine as has ever been made. The water, waste and electrical systems are straightforward and have all been well maintained. The outside of the hull shows a bit of oxidation from sitting on the hard so long, but a good working over with a restorative, a coat of wax and some bottom paint will fix that. I even made some progress in figuring out the running rigging. Standing on the bowsprit, holding onto the head stay to play with the anchor it struck me that a sailboat up on the hard and sitting on stands is pretty close to every kid’s dream tree house.

Maybe that’s why it seems so many sailors are pilots and bikers as well? We are all just big kids playing with our favorite toys. Serious toys though. On the way home from the lake a friend who works for the FAA called. While Deb and I were getting to know Nomad another friend had been killed flying the immaculate little bi-plane he had spent 17 years building, finishing it barely two years ago. I had flown with Dave in his award-winning Acro Sport on several occasions. He was as careful a pilot as he was a gifted craftsman. His loss is both tragic and mysterious.

Airplane, boats, motorcycles; we love these things, the places they take us and the adventurers we find with them. But only a fool would ignore the fact that part of the reason we do love them is the challenge and the risk involved of going to the places they can go. The sky, the water and the open road offer rewards that can’t be found just sitting watching life go by, but each cares not what our plans for tomorrow might be. And sometime each of them can be just plain mean.

Yet that is not the whole story. I am in the middle of a four day run of flights. (I spent last night in Biloxi again. This morning I walked around the docks looking at sailboats and kept thinking to myself, “How cool, I own one of these!) On Tuesday we were supposed to go from St. Louis to Moline, IL and then on to several other places. There was some tough weather out there but a look at the RADAR showed a clear path. In spite of what the RADAR suggested the sky folded up and started dumping huge amounts of driving rain on Moline before we could get there. We aborted to Peoria, IL to figure out what to do. We decided to run the trip backwards, getting to Moline as the last stop rather then the first. And it worked for most of the day. But by the time we left Moline for St. Louis the sky was once again in a poor mood with rapidly building thunderstorms filing up in a line across our path. They were as big and dark as any storms I have seen, throwing lightning, hail and rain across several states while dropping the occasional tornado to really tear things up. At 19,000 feet our little Citation sailed through a slot in the storms that was barely 25 miles wide with the blow-off from the monster to our West forming a cloud roof over our head. We could see blue sky, lighting, sheets of virga and tumultuous boiling clouds all at the same time yet we coasted through with barely a bump to mark our sneaking past Thor’s kitchen. It was spectacular. In all the history of human kind how many people have had the chance to see something like that?

I expect the boat to show us some pretty special things as well. Maybe not bowsprit to lighting (or maybe) but how about ink black water reflecting a canopy of stars? Maybe we’ll see waves big enough to be both scary and fun and certainly wind enough to challenge my meager boat handling skills. So even if it is just your average kind of lake in the middle of Illinois, I am eager to get little Nomad wet and let the travels begin.

Airplanes, motorcycles, houses, cars, and now a boat...

Well here I sit watching the latest round of evening storms fade from the evening sky and trying to get my head around the idea that we bought a yacht. Looking back on these musings I see it was barely 9 months ago when we first even thought about getting a “starter boat,” (less then 30 feet, more than 20 feet). I have to say if 30 years ago someone had given me a list of all the things Deb and I would do, buying and working toward living on a sailboat is the one thing on that list I might have believed. On the one hand it seems like something that has happened really fast; but on the other it seems like a thing that has been a long time coming.

But right now I’m still a bit stunned. We bought a yacht. It is a little yacht mind you, just about 30 feet from stem to stern if one counts the cool looking bow sprit. It is a tick over 24 feet long at the water line, draws 3 feet 6, is 9 feet 6 wide at the widest part, and is known as “Nomad.” (I love the name.) It seems pretty modest as yachts go, not real fast (with a 24 foot LWL hull speed works out to around 6.5 knots, or 7.5 mph) and with a simple sail plan I suspect even that speed isn’t something we will see every day. But that is okay since fast is not the point

Several of the folks at the marina where we found Nomad, (and where we will be keeping her) told us that we had an “ocean going” boat. I am a bit pleased by that, even if I’m not sure I believe it. Still little Nomad looks like a sailboat should look and I have to admit I was a bit taken by her the first time we climbed aboard. Small stout little windows to keep the waves outside the hull, lots of wires and ropes running everywhere, brass, teak, bow sprit (I did mention that is a pretty cool looking part, right?) in fact I’m a bit concerned that, even with the class, I’m not sure I know what all that stuff is supposed to do. That’s okay though, virtually everyone we have met at the marina has volunteered to sail it with us and “show us the ropes.”

Drumroll please.....

We took the plunge today and left a deposit on the Com-Pac 27. Here's a picture of the new member of our family, appropriately named "Nomad". Only those of you who know us well can appreciate the appropriateness of the name.

Tim crawling around Nomad

The Galley and Companionway. Head is on the left

This is the head. Lots of teak everywhere and

an incredible amount of storage in lockers, racks and hideaways. 

This is the V-berth in the front of the boat (for you non-sailboaters). We got in there to try out the size and it's much roomier than I thought. It also has a cool brass sign above the berth that says "Captain's Quarters". There's brass all over the place - around the portholes and lights and a cool brass oil lamp that's gimballed so it rocks with the boat and doesn't spill.

The boat's been on the hard (on land in a cradle for you non-boaters) for more than 2 years so when we first saw it a couple weeks ago it was shrink-wrapped in this blue plastic. It was great to cut it away today and see what a beautiful boat it was underneath!

This is a picture of the cockpit. It's kind of full of stuff since we were poking around, but soon it will be clean and orderly. You can't see it very well in the picture but there's a fantastic teak floor and in the middle of the picture you can see a teak table that folds up to put drinks on. We signed the slip contract today so Nomad has a home as soon as we get her in the water. Before we can do that, we have to paint the bottom of the boat and do a little cleaning. Not too much, fortunately. The previous owner of the boat took unbelievably good care of this boat. We're hoping to have the boat in the water by June the 14th. They're having a party at the marina and it would be fun to get to know everyone and celebrate the beginning of our nautical adventures. Ahoy Mate!

From long shot to chip shot

"Taking the plunge” may not be the best way to describe buying a boat; after all the main idea is to stay dry. But nonetheless Deb and I have jumped off into the deep end and decided to try and buy the Com-Pac 27. It is the nicest boat for sale on the lake (in our price range anyway) and, even if we found a better boat / price combo someplace else, the cost of shipping would make it less attractive then a boat already here.

Like always $ is a concern. We can write a check (with borrowed money) and pretend that it is not a big deal, but it is just pretend and it is a big deal. The boat needs bottom paint and batteries and at the moment is sitting on land. Someone is going to want some dollars to take their big boat-picking machine over to the stands, wrap straps around the hull, and haul the boat to the water. So some home budget items will have to be trimmed (Mac-N-Cheese on the boat, not steaks) and it would really help if someone wanted to buy a little motorcycle and pay us too much money for a pretty nice truck.

Like any deal on anything, the deal isn’t done until the paperwork is finished, money has changed hands and the item in question is actually (in this case) floating somewhere. Even if something happens and this doesn’t work it will still be a big first step up the learning curve. The fact is I don’t know anything about buying a boat, but it looks like that will change pretty soon.

Plans now are for Deb and I to meet the broker and look the boat over tomorrow morning, (before another potential buyer). If we don't spot a show stopper (or get a case of the willies) we will leave them a big enough check to hold the boat. After that I have to go do the first test flight on the Citation and its new engines / FMS / entertainment systems. That will chew up what is left of the day. So by this time tomorrow we may basically own a boat and have the Citation back in its home hangar and be ready to go back to work. Or we could pass on the boat and the Citation will be back in the maintenance hangar getting a list of discrepancies fixed. Either way tomorrow should be interesting.

A baby step closer

I have traded a couple of more emails with the owner of the Com-Pac. It seems he is in no real hurry to list the thing so Deb and I are the only ones really looking at the boat. It may still be a long shot, but not a long, long shot. Odds improved when I dropped off the K-bike at the new owner’s garage a week or so ago. Two days later the check went into the bank and landed squarely in the “boat fund.” The little bike isn’t sold yet though and I’m thinking we are just going to have to live with the truck.

So my hopes for a Fourth of July launch seem to be fading a bit. Not only am I going to try and be responsible about the money part of it, (well not me so much as Deb keeping me from doing something really dumb, like buying the boat first and figuring out how to pay for it afterward) but also I may have to go back to actually being a Captain again pretty soon, though of a Citation V rather then a Com-Pac 27. The airplane isn’t quite finished yet but should be flying by the end of the week. The first week in June is already pretty full with four consecutive days of flying and an overnight in Biloxi. While there I might even indulge in a little more boat watching. But being back in the sky and on the road (a good thing) will put a dent in boat buying activities (a bad thing).

We spent the holiday weekend in Pittsburgh both visiting family and having family visit us. Amber and Catherine flew in from Cape Cod, so with Melanie also in attendance the only missing were Michael (being a Priest he tends to work on weekends) Kristin & Brian (busy moving to Indy) and my brother Tommy and his wife Deb, (still recovering from funding a graduation). The unanimous consensus of all in attendance was that the boat idea is a good one. Even my Mom likes it; at least I think she does. Maybe she just likes it more than the motorcycles? She did like the pictures of the Com-Pac I pulled up on the Internet. I think granddaughter Catherine was the most enthused but, since I haven’t learned to actually speak baby Catherine yet, maybe I misunderstood. At least she didn’t point to boat pictures and say, “No no no no no.” That was her response when I tried to take her out of the swing at the park. I take that as proof she will love the motion of a sailboat.

Speaking of motorcycles Deb and I did the one-day, 620 mile run from Monroeville to St. Louis, finding some rain and the backside of a cold front along the way. We ended up in rain suits, heavy coats, heavy gloves, and neck warmers and were still chilled; this on a Memorial Day weekend ride. I’m sure summer will get here eventually.

Go with the flow

I have been trading e-mails with the owner of the Com-Pac 27 Deb and I found a couple of weeks ago. It turns out our visit helped motivate him to get the boat ready to sell but he is just “going with the flow.” The boat isn’t listed anywhere yet so we may still have a (long) shot at that one. I smiled at his “going with the flow” comment. Deb and I have taken on the same kind of attitude. Without really trying very hard the BMW will probably be sold by the end of the week. We may have found someone to buy the little Suzuki as well. That will reduce the rolling two-wheel stock by half. The truck is also for sale though it may be a bit optimistic to think it will go very fast or for a very good price. (Something about gas prices…)

While it feels like we are more and more committed to making the boat thing happen, we are also less and less frantic about it. I will not be disappointed if the Com-Pac works out. I will not be disappointed if it doesn’t because some other boat will. No boat is perfect and unless I take complete leave of my senses, (something that Deb is pretty good about catching and preventing) no boat will be a disaster either. This is still a “beginner” boat. We will not be heading out to sea in this one and will live on it only for weekends and holidays. Big waves on the lake might make 2 feet and no matter which direction one looks land will always be in sight. Unless something drastic happens this will be the way we live for the next couple of years at least, and maybe a few more than that. (I do like the idea of buying even a first boat that we could have hauled over to the Mississippi. Once there we could get in, sail south until the water turns salty, hang a left, pass a couple of Keys, hang another left, and end up where we want. We would probably never do that, but it would feel good to have the option.)

Boats have moved to the top of my interest list, right next to motorcycles and a bit ahead of airplanes. I’m on the ground for most of this month with maybe just a couple of lessons in the Cub to get me airborne. Next Sunday I head for Tucson, AZ for four days of learning how to run the new FMS equipment that is being installed in the Citation. I suspect it will be about 2 hours of information crammed into four days of boredom. In any case it is more of the same. Maybe airplanes will move back to the top once I am back in the sky. I was telling Kristin the other day my perfect place would be living on a boat with my motorcycle parked in the lot that I used to ride to my Challenger (or Gulfstream or Falcon) job at the airport. But for now we just go with the flow, confident at the moment we are heading in the right direction.