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We bought a boat last year, a 21-foot Chaparral bowrider, which we love. However, from a practical standpoint, we have started to contemplate perhaps selling it and getting a travel trailer instead. There are a number of advantages to this kind of switcheroo, from my perspective, anyway, but I wanted to see if my Readers have any thoughts about us doing this, especially if anyone has done the same, or similar, kind of thing.

On the upside:

  • With a travel trailer, we would have the ability to pretty much take off and GO, regardless of the weather forecast. We’ve quickly learned that not just rain, but wind, temperature and lake conditions can limit boating opportunities in what is already a pretty narrow outdoor season for us here in the Midwest, sometimes for weeks at a time. I love the idea of us traveling all over the U.S., even in the winter, to places where warmer weather beckons and getting a travel trailer would help keep us off the couch, much as we enjoy our YouTube videos, football and basketball and other streaming entertainment!
  • If we opted for a travel trailer instead, providing our own lodging would simplify the inclusion of Coco, our much beloved furry companion. Currently, we have to search out hotels, B&B’s, and other accommodations that allow pets OR find someone to watch him. At the beginning of summer this year, we had four dog sitters on speed dial. Now, we have just one and she isn’t always available. Many ‘places to stay’ do not allow you to leave your dog in the room when you’re not there. That excludes so many travel and sight-seeing options: restaurants, museums and other indoor venues. National parks, most if not all, do not allow dogs. With a travel trailer, we could leave puppy for a brief stint whenever there’s something we want to do by ourselves. NOTE: Coco is 7 1/2 years old but, to me, he’ll always be puppy!!
  • We are already familiar with towing a boat so the learning curve for a travel trailer, it is assumed, would not be as steep.
  • Likewise, because of the boat, we already have a storage unit. That was a major headache for us at the beginning of our boat-owning journey so cross that item off a travel trailer To Do list.

With a travel trailer, there will always be finding a place to set up camp, the set-up process itself, less living space and maneuverability challenges. ALSO: We’re in our sixties and in a few years, launching and loading and getting in and out of a boat might prove more difficult as we move into our 70s and beyond. Again, it is assumed, those concerns wouldn’t be as jarring with a travel trailer.

If anyone has other insights or comments, I would LOVE to hear from you. Thank you, in advance, SO MUCH!!

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we come into big money someday, we salivate over boats—

Nordhavns.  Ranger Tugs.  Kadey-Krogens.  a Riviera would be nice. 

I mean since we’re day-dreaming after all.

husband and I don’t just want some hulking mass

of floating, well, whatever it is boats are made of.

nothing too austere and yet, nothing too ornate.

we’re not greedy, after all.

a nice, sound, sturdy vessel for taking on The Great Loop,

the Erie Canal, sailing in and out of Canadian waters—

if they’ll have us.  (thanks for nothin’, Orange).

we’ll tool around the Great Lakes.  a few months in the Keys

and/or the Bahamas.  oh, and maybe the Pacific Northwest—

across the Atlantic once we get our sea legs?

we’d love a walk-around.  with fly-bridge. 

washer & dryer would be the bomb.

galley with four-burners, ample space in both

the fridge and the freezer.

sweet little tender with remote-control davit.

a brightly lit, easily accessible engine facility

with plenty of headroom and extra storage to boot.

auto-pilot.  kick-ass, comfy helm.  all the necessary

navigational bells and whistles.

husband charting our course, handling daily maintenance

& all other called-upon Captain duties.

as First Mate / Admiral, I’ll be responsible for the lines

and maneuvering us through the locks,

I’ll cook the meals and oversee our provisions.

I’ll deal with laundry and keep the vessel ship-shape.

our boat—a lovely, cozy liveaboard, whether we’re underway,

docked in a marina or anchored in still and silent waters,

gorgeous sunsets to cap off each day, no matter the state of overhead skies.

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My husband and I purchased a boat late last year. Yippee Skippy!

We waited patiently throughout the winter months for spring – and our new vessel – to arrive. In late April, we were told, our boat would be ‘coming off the line’ and would be ready to ship within 4-5 days. Well, not so much. Another month would pass before we could make the three-hour drive to the dealership to take possession of our new toy. And even then, we had to poke and prod the salesman every step of the way for information.

In any case, the day finally arrived, and we were sorely disappointed. Yes, the boat was there – and she was a beauty. But it was still in the process of getting detailed and we had to navigate around puddles of water and equipment and a greasy floor to look her over. When we first met with the salesman back in October, we had been impressed with his descriptions of how, when we came to get our new boat the following spring, he would hook it up to our trailer for us and then unhook it so we could learn how to do it ourselves. He would make sure we understood the process and what we had to do.

We were also told he would take us to a small lake nearby and we would launch the boat, take it out in the water so he could demonstrate how to safely operate it and use the instrumentation – how everything worked – and finally, he would show us how to load it back on to the trailer. This whole boating thing, as we’d told him, was entirely new to us so I was quite impressed with what awaited us when the time came to get our new boat!

When we picked up the boat, there was nothing of the sort. He helped us hook it up, wished us well and that was it. Said he’d check in with us in a few days to see how things were going. You guessed it: crickets. More than a month after getting our new boat, we’ve yet to hear from him.

To make matters worse, as we were looking the boat over, I commented on the tires on the trailer. They looked a little low. “Oh, no”, he told me. They were fine. He was a real stickler for tires being properly inflated, he said. Once we were out of Kansas City on our way home, we stopped at a rest area. Bill checked the tire pressure. Two of the four trailer tires were in the range of 20 psi, nearly thirty pounds of pressure lower than they should have been!

Also, while we were still at the dealership, I commented on the orientation of the boat engine which was nearly parallel to the ground. We’d been reading and watching a ‘boat load’ of videos and while there is some dissension on the topic, we’d been made aware of the importance of using a transom saver, a device that protects a boat’s transom from stress, especially when towing the boat over long distances.

Now, I may not be getting the details exactly right in my description of this but when we questioned the salesman about our concerns – what about a transom saver, we asked – he assured us that the boat manufacturer – and here he pointed to a place on the transom (the flat, vertical structure at the very back of the boat) – had provided a support intended for just that purpose. However, once we got home and my husband resumed his research on the topic, he learned that this support mechanism is only intended for use while the boat is being stored, and certainly not for a long haul. There is a risk of damage if the engine is not properly supported when the boat is being trailered.

Thus began our search for a transom saver and the means to mount it to our trailer. By now I’ve probably bored my Readers with extraneous detail so suffice it to say, we met with numerous obstacles and roadblocks to achieving our goal. However, said transom saver has, at last, been mounted. We are good to go. Hurray! Let’s get on the water.

Not. So. Fast….

With a ton of rain the last several days and weeks, water levels are now dangerously high. In some places, boat ramps are closed and where they are open, boaters are advised to use caution as there is so much debris in the water which can be a) unsafe and b) a menace to hulls and propellers, both of which are quite costly to repair or replace.

These photos were taken yesterday. One gentleman who lives along the lake told me the water is still rising.

It doesn’t look like we’ll be out on the water – yet! – for another week, probably more.

Yes, our gratification has been very much delayed. What else can go wrong?!?

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Resembling a laser-focused aircraft marshal on a busy tarmac, I know my ears will be protected by the sound.  The nail gun is heavy in my hands, and it certainly takes both of them to hold firm as I tentatively climb the ladder.  We’re putting up storage shelves in the southeast corner of the basement, a long-awaited first step in finally, finally providing some semblance of order to the disorganized mess in the foundational underpinning of our home that’s been neglected for far too long.

To be sure, husband is doing most of the work—measuring room dimensions, researching materials and tools, installing outlets, running wires, picking through the meager selection of straight-as-an-arrow two by fours in the racks at Menards, loading (and unloading) the lumber and shelving, all those weighty pieces of bracketing—indeed, all of the heavy lifting.  My home-enhancing contributions tend toward providing assistance whenever Bill needs a second pair of hands but mostly, I’m our home’s interior designer.  Bill does the grunt work.  I just make it all look pretty.  Or presentable, at least.  Homey and cozy and welcoming, that’s always what I’m aiming for.

But today, I’ll make my own mark—literally.  My five-foot-one frame will absorb the kickback.  Warily, I’ll stand within inches of that impossible-to-anticipate deafening crack, the pum of compressed-air as the nail explodes from the chamber and embeds itself into the stud.  Once the deed is done, when my body is no longer reverberating from the impact, I’ll circle the nail head with a red Sharpie marker, date and initial it.  A talisman for future home dwellers, proof of my physical contribution to the accoutrements of our new and improved storage space.

****************************************************************************

We purchased our house, a three-bedroom ranch, in 2005.  It was—and remains—our dream house.  Situated along the fourth fairway of The Legacy golf course, it has a spectacular view of the second hole and adjacent pond, nice woodwork throughout, a modern kitchen and is nicely landscaped.  The basement, however, was unfinished.  Oh, but did we have plans for rectifying that situation!  Enthusiastic brain dumps on how we might best use the space and a multitude of ideas for floor plans morphed into one configuration after another time and again over the first several years.

Other pursuits, however, soon consumed our time, our energies and our resources until now, nearly fifteen years since I drove a nail into that two by four.  My husband and I are both retired and, like many Americans, covid quickly and thoroughly put the kibosh on any immediate plans to travel overseas or even throughout the United States.  We still talk about ‘maybe someday’ but I think we both know the deeper truth.  We don’t have any compelling need or desire to finish off the basement.  Currently, it serves to provide a number of satisfactory purposes. 

The exercise space houses an elliptical and my husband’s old Nordic Track, both strategically placed in view of a big screen TV.  Bill has a work space for his computer, with two large monitors.  There are several book cases and a place for him to play his guitars.  There’s the aforementioned storage room, with shelving running floor to ceiling that spans the length of the room.  A section of the basement is my sewing room.  I have a large daylight window overlooking my work space and shelving for all the fabric I’ve accumulated in the three short years since I began quilting.   

We have what we need and then some.  It works for us and no regrets.  Entertaining has never been high on our priority list and besides, how many times would we really make use of a pool table or the shuffleboard table we thought we’d love to have?  No.  A finished basement just isn’t something we spend much time thinking about anymore.  We, however, made an alternate decision and started to look outside ourselves.  I mean, really outside….

Instead of finishing the basement—fireplace, wet bar, billiards table, huge screen TV, exercise room—all those amazing features we once drooled over—we’ve directed our salivary glands to contemplate the new boat we’re getting this spring.  Certainly, fresh air and sunshine have to be healthier for the body—and the soul—than the dim confines of a basement, no matter how lavishly appointed!

More importantly, we’ve come to realize we enjoy our own company and what better way than out on the water, just my husband, our puppy and me.