First Entry – Pre Launch Part 1
“All I ask is a tall ship, and a star to steer her by.”
I am a boat owner! Not only a boat, but a sailboat! And not only a sailboat, but a 30-foot, French-made, world-cruising, deep-sea sailing vessel. This is a big deal to a Colorado boy like me!
Four years ago, my family and I moved from Johnstown, CO to the deepest of deep south Texas. We live in a beautiful town called Los Fresnos, which sits just minutes from the Mexico border and less than 20 minutes from South Padre Island.
I love the tropical, Mexican lifestyle. Good food, lazy afternoons, and burning red sunsets in the warm ocean breeze. It’s a little strange to me that though I was born in a place of unparalleled beauty: majestic mountains, crystal clear mountain lakes, autumn colors and crisp, cold winter mornings, the rustic vibrancy of downtown Denver; yet I love this place of warm sand, seagulls, and gently waving palm trees just as much as the place I was born.
The sea calls to me. It has to be the biggest cliche of them all, but it’s true. The water pulls at my soul. There is a lonely quiet near the waters’ edge where a man is utterly alone with his own soul. I have never been to the ocean and not felt creative, at peace, and adventrous. As you stand at the very edge of your world, with all your life’s experiences literally behind you, the ocean beckons, “Come!” It was inevitable that I would at some point I would need to heed the water’s call.
Being from Colorado, I had no idea what to expect in my desire to find a boat. I could go with the old reliable powerboat, like so many I was familiar with growing up around small lakes and reserviors in the Rocky Mountains. But there is something romantic about sailing, something that ties you to history. Sailing the deep blue sea places you in company with some of the bravest men in human history. With just the wind to power you, and the stars to guide you, sailing makes you a better man, a more resourceful man, a man who learns to interpret, trust, and eventually become one, with the elements of his world.
So I knew I didn’t want a powerboat. I also knew I wanted one big enough to leave the shore. I mean, really leave the shore. She needed sleeping quarters and a means for a crew to survive an honest-to-God voyage to a distant land.
I began my trek into the past in the most modern of ways: I started looking on ebay for what I could expect to spend on a boat once I finally got serious about buying one. I found a few boats that intrigued me and placed them on my “watch list”, just to get an idea of what they finally sell for. That would give me an added motivation in my day job (financial advisor), to work extra hard to finally earn this vessel of unparalleled freedom.
(You know, “vessel” is a perfect word for a sailboat. It is a means of transportation, yes, but not just a body or cargo. It moves the spirit, carries hope and aspiration, and brings you to a different place than when you stepped on board. But I digress.)
I found a lovely sailboat in Rockport, an incredibly beautiful coastal town about 180 miles north up the Texas coast from my home. She was beautiful, at least in the pictures; she needed work (she is 38 years old), but fit all of my criteria: deep keel made her steady in harsh weather and blue sea sailing, sleeping berths for six, a small galley on board, a navigation desk with maps, compass, sextant, and, being a French-made boat, even a built-in wine rack.
I said to myself, “That is the one. Right there.” But not being ready to purchase, I set it to watch the auction, and see where the wining bid ended up. It was being auctioned by a wonderful charity called BoatAngel, who receive donated cars and boats, and auction them. Winning bidders are funding their mission work around the globe, and donors get a tax break. Everybody wins, and I highly recommend for those who seek to follow me into this lifestyle, that you start there.
The auction ended, and in our busy world , I failed to notice. So about a month later, as I was clearing our “Watch List” of the dozens of things my son adds to it, I noticed five little words next to the boat that made me sit up in my chair: “This item has been relisted.”
I clicked on the link, and there she was, ready for the taking if I was willing to fight for her:
So I watched the bidding over the weekend, just wanting to see if the price would go crazy or if it would be a great deal. I had a friend who owned a smaller boat check it out and give me his opinion on its listing. I quizzed the charity on the specifics. I studied the oversized photos on the auction in detail. I begged my wife to talk me out of it.
But it was meant to be. After watching the auction all day at work on a Monday (the auction ended at about 6pm Monday night), the price had only risen to about $4,000. With two minutes to go, and my son nearly having a heart attack behind me, I placed a maximum bid of $4,502, and sat back to see what happened. With my son standing behind me, trying hard not to show me his hopes for our victory but telling me over and over to “Refresh!”, we watched the auction count down. Three. Two. One.
I won it for $4150. I now owned a sailboat!
