Sailboat For Sale Lake Carlyle

The Retirement Project: Nomad hits the road...

(Or how to move onto a sailboat) With the advent of our 50th birthdays came the usual sorts of life evaluations that one goes through. At what have I succeeded? What contributions have I made? What do I have left that I want to do before I die? Living on the water was high on both our lists. For any who share the dream, and for our family members who might not understand, this is our story. We don't know where it will take us, but welcome along for the ride! ... a figure of speech of course; at least I hope it turns out to be a figure of speech. The rig she left town on didn't look quite up to the task of hauling 6500 pounds of sailboat some 1700 miles to the northwest; but then I don't know too much about trailering boats. Should she make it unscathed she will find a glassier lake some 70 miles on one leg by 30 miles on the other, 1500 feet deep in places, as her new playground. A bit more room to roam than Carlyle. new owner was on a tight schedule we crawled into foulies to start pulling rigging, sails, and what-not from the deck, the occasional lightning bolt dancing along the bottoms of the clouds as we labored. (It was far from the smartest thing I have done lately.) With just a stick left standing the new owner asked if I would motor his boat across the lake to the waiting travel lift while he drove the truck and trailer around the long way. Doing so would save him an hour. (Schmitty is in the BVI somewhere with a goodly number of the normally assembled. Not only does that make for a quiet weekend here in Boulder, it means there is no one around to operate our travel lift.) I was glad to do it so long as he understood that, when it comes to a certain Com-Pac 27/2, I am not the one insured any longer. Such details covered Mark and Bill jumped aboard with me and little Nomad will be a few days before she gets under sail for a second time. Even as we hope to sail more, items needing the "laying on of hands" continue to accumulate. The relentless rain was apparently too much for the main hatch over the saloon table. Moving about to start my day the boat heeled over in the wind and a big dollop of cold water spilled off the corner and right onto my sleepy bald head, landing re-bedding the hatch at the very top of the "do this next" list.